THE UNDERDOGS HAVE RISEN

The most memorable day of my childhood took place in the period of 28th-31^st of July, 1996; I was 6 years old at the time. I don’t remember much about those years but I remember that day almost so clearly I can still feel the taste of beads of sweat running from my forehead to my mouth. It was the day of the Olympic semifinal game between Nigeria and Brazil. For several years we had been trying to make our mark but this time around it was time to take the bulls by the horns. There was an extra spring to the steps of everyone walking on the streets that day. My teachers in school were nicer than I had ever seen them. My dad was almost a nervous wreck the whole day and my mum seemed to be in a hurry to do everything on time. I was excited, hopeful, nervous, scared and more patriotic than I have ever been in my life. The game was going to be played at night and NEPA in their usual element failed to supply power for such an epic match. The landlord of the house we lived in went to a car he was repairing and removed the car battery which was used to power the small battered black and white TV that sat haphazardly in the middle of his large living room. All the tenants, children, adults, everybody! Gathered and crammed themselves up in the room that had suddenly become stuffy, to sit on the cold cement floor to watch Nigeria make history. Just before the game begun I went outside and there was no one on the streets, not a single soul.

 I looked around the room where I was and all I saw was a bunch of people united for the first time in a long time gathered together irrespective of tribal and religious beliefs to support a cause we believed in. It didn’t matter that we were under a dictatorial government that was becoming increasingly suppressive, or that there was so much poverty around me I didn’t know how we managed to pay rent sometimes. The only thing that mattered was that our problems took a back burner and we lived our lives as Nigerians for three hours. Halfway into the second half Brazil was up 3-1, Ronaldo was substituted to rest him for a final that Brazil never got into; hope seemed like an elusive dream in that moment, nails were bitten with aggression and no one could sit on the bug infested, lumpy sofa as  everyone stood up to pray for a miracle. It happened in the form of Kanu Nwankwo who scored a late goal to give the team a life line and we held on to it to win the game 4-3. I will never forget how euphoric the moment was when Kanu scored the winning goal. 

The screams of an entire nation filled with disbelief at achieving the impossible dream to beat Brazil, the shouts of joy that something good can happen to Nigeria, the tears of jubilation streaming down the faces of my neighbours who couldn’t hold their passion in. I remember what I did; I screamed at the top of my voice so loud a banshee would have been proud of me, and then I ran up and down the stairs so many times with my friends I lost count. We slid across the floor in our cotton covered buttocks singing Oshe Baba! Baba Oshe! The adrenaline coursing through my tiny frame was so large I hugged my dad down in the most joyful hug I have ever given anyone.

The dream team went to the USA earlier than any of the other teams. They were unknown, new and searching for glory. They played for each other with passion, strength, talent, agility and a doggedness instilled in them by Jo Bonfrere. They were underdogs who came out as top dogs.

I always say that people will never be able to over-estimate the importance of Barack Obama as the first man of colour to be President of the United States of America. You only have to look into the history of the black race to see the journey they made with shackles on their hands and feet, iron cast branded on their body, over worked beyond our imagination, raped, dehumanized and treated as objects rather than human beings. Yet they persevered; our fore-fathers didn’t give in. They sang when things got though working on plantations that stretched for miles and they found ways to live their lives past the abysmal existence they were forced to suffer. If anyone had told them that there was a chance in the future where a black man would not only be allowed to vote but to stand and win a presidential election, they would have laughed, looked at you with pity and said “Child, you must be tired and delirious from your hard day in the fields, you best be going home to get some rest so you can be lucid tomorrow”. The thoughts or verbal proclamation of such wishes was tantamount to murder and best left hidden. It has happened though, the black man repressed for ages; born as an underdog, discriminated upon and stereotyped with crime and indiscipline has risen to become the most powerful man in the world. 

The first time it happened in 2008 some people might have called it a stroke of luck but Obama’s re-election in 2012 has proven that sometimes the things we think are impossible are just yards of elastic boundaries waiting to be stretched by us.

Goodluck Jonathan, the most interesting President with an unusual rise to power that Nigeria has seen till date. He was born to a family of canoe makers, had to trek miles without shoes to get basic education. He worked his way to the top by getting his first three degrees in the Niger Delta before venturing into politics in 1998. He was sworn in as Deputy Governor of Bayelsa State in 1999, he became the Governor in 2005 after Diepreye Alamieyeseigha was impeached, rose to the office of the Vice President after he contested election alongside Umaru Yar Adua in 2007, fate smiled at him again in 2010 after the death of Yar Adua became Acting President. 

It is interesting to note that he became governor and President without contesting an election. Through strokes of fate, doors opened for him and he took the opportunity to rise every time it came.

Daniel Tammet, the ordinary looking man born into a family where he had eight other siblings. He suffered epileptic seizures as a child, probably got bullied a lot for his dorkish looks and was miserable a lot. His life changed when he started exhibiting signs of the savant syndrome and today he has not only risen as one of the most intelligent people in the world but as a great writer whose work has been described as ‘perfect’ by scholars in that field.

 A gay man, he brought something new to the table that has forced people to acknowledge, respect, indulge and stand in awe of the magnificence of his brain.

All underdogs have two common factors; Resilience and tenacity. From the Nigerian Dream Team who conquered Brazil to Barack Obama who rose to become America’s first black president. These underdogs refused to give up. They had seen fear, lived it and embraced it, they refused to cower and instead chose to stand, to grasp at opportunities when it came their way. They milked their chanced and used it to advance themselves. All underdogs possess certain unique abilities that stand them out from the rest of the crowd.

The Nigerian team was fearless in the face of such an intimidating opposition, a bunch of young men drawn from their differences to a single purpose. Raw talent, high work rate, a deep sense of passionate patriotism and the desire to win was what set them high above their peers.

Barack Obama, a great speaker, good motivator, a born leader known for his abundance of charisma, involved in his community. A fearless man with bags of hope who believed that just because it hadn’t been done before does not mean it can never be done. The time to act was now.

Goodluck Jonathan, a man I do not support but respect for his tortoise like ability to take the chance when it came. He took with both hands what fate had given to him and solidified his position from an environmentalist educator no one knew to the President of Nigeria everyone talks about.

Underdogs give us hope, we can relate to them because once upon a time their lives mirrored ours. We live our aspirations of hope and our dreams of emancipation by watching their rise to power. Their romantic grass to grace stories makes us believe that if they can, we have hope.

Underdogs are rising everywhere, the things we thought impossible are increasingly becoming common place. From obscurity and oblivion to greatness and power they stamp their authority in our faces, we are inclined to respect the manner through which they have defied the odds in their childhood, environment and culture to break the mold that shaped their existence into people that others see, admire and envy.

Things will never be the same again. I am an underdog and my rise to greatness will be memorable. Will you rise like the underdogs or will you live your life in ordinary existence wondering what could have been if your only took the chance?