Professor Itse Sagay (SAN) in his latest autobiography ‘ALL WILL BE WELL’ touches every subject from the serious to the hilarious, from his experiences as a law lecturer and Cambridge University postgraduate scholar who taught at the then University of Ife and University of Benin where he fought “titanic battles” with Professor Grace Alele-Williams, the then vice chancellor. I enjoyed the story of his lover-boy years and the advice he gave to young unmarried Nigerian men: “Whenever you are in a relationship with a woman, and you feel you are in heaven and are no longer treading on the ground but are floating through space: hold your horses. You are on the brink of a disaster; the edge of precipice. Take some steps back and review the situation. You might just be lucky enough to save yourself from unspeakable trauma.” My dear reader, fasten your belt and read what Professor Sagay describes as what “would make a blockbuster Nollywood film.” And make sure you buy the book, particularly if you are a lawyer or a law student who needs a practical book from a celebrated law professor, author of ‘NIGERIAN LAW OF CONTRACT’ and other law books.
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I fell “in love” three times before I met the woman who became my wife. The first encounter was with a French girl who was a tourist in Cambridge. The relationship developed fast from casual to serious. When she returned home, I was ordering flowers for her through a British florist with international branches. I even flew to Paris to be with her on one occasion. When I got back, the urge to see her again was so strong that I booked another flight to Paris. My Ph.D. research suffered expected distractions.
On the morning I was to travel to Paris, I got a call from her asking me to cancel the journey. Her parents had forbidden the relationship and she was abiding by their instructions. That was it! My “hot” love of a week earlier was now a cold and calculating judge delivering a death sentence on our relationship. I was absolutely devastated. Dele Cole and Ibrahim Tahir, who seemed to be immune to my “in love” disease, calmly consoled me, though they were amused about what the whole fuss was about.
My other friend and classmate in primary and secondary school, who was now a resident doctor at Guy’s Hospital, London (now Professor Sam Okpaku, a top psychiatrist in Tennessee USA) invited me to come and spend a few days with him in London. On my arrival, he organised a party for me which was full of young ladies, most of them nurses. I had a very good evening although my wounds were still too raw for me to take a serious interest in any other female then. I returned to Cambridge by train three days later in a much better frame of mind. Needless to say, my research work suffered a setback because of this “adventure.”
My second encounter with “in love” happened in October 1971, during my second year at Ife as a lecturer. I had just returned to my office after my lecture on the Law of Contracts when a gorgeous girl swaggered her hips into my office. Apparently, she was one of my Contract students, although I had not noticed her presence before then. She introduced herself and handed over my jacket, which in my usual absent-minded manner, I had forgotten in the lecture hall. Naturally, after my expression of gratitude, we got talking and I got to know she was not a Nigerian, but from a West African former British Colony.
We commenced a relationship whose intensity grew with every passing day. Unfortunately, unknown to me, she had a private agenda. Too late for me she confessed she had a fiancé in her home country and that she only wanted a limited relationship with me. In other words, our “in love” affair was not to go beyond the campus, and was to end latest on her graduation.
I could not believe that a human being could be so cold and calculating, without a care for its effect on another person. If she had told me about her engagement earlier, I would have either ended the relationship or put some control on my emotions. For me, all hell broke loose and I almost forgot that I was a lecturer. We had to put an end to the relationship, painful as it was. My friend Dr. (later Professor) Steve Ogude, a Professor of English Literature, laughingly told me that “If a woman lets you down, don’t hang yourself, go and hang on another woman.”
We laughed and I took his advice. I tried to hand on another woman, a final year student at the University of Ibadan. This time I had all my wits about me. I travelled to Ibadan, took her out to a party in the hope of building up some familiarity there. However, as soon as we got to the venue of the party, she left me and started exhibiting greater familiarity with other men there. I didn’t waste my time. I got into my car and drove off. I was sure she was going to leave the party with someone else. So, I ended the “hanging on another woman.”
My final “in love” encounter was the most disastrous of all. It was a relationship that should never have been. It was wrong and socially unacceptable. I cannot give more details about this so as not to reopen old wounds. Suffice it to say, that on becoming aware of it, my father banned me from that relationship on the pain of disowning me, but I was too far gone. Danger and embarrassment meant nothing to me. I was like Don Quixote tilting at wind mills. Absolutely maddened by the effect of “in love”, I was saved by the basic sensibility of the lady concerned, who broke off the relationship abruptly after mounting pressure came from her friends, immediate family and relations. I was absolutely devastated and did not appreciate that a noose had been removed from my neck. This was the most serious “in love” situation I ever got into. I had lost my senses altogether and took terrible risks under the influence of that drunken “in love” “potion” that could have cost me everything dear to me.
Soon after, I fell ill and was in bed for almost one month. I consulted the doctor at the University Health Centre, who took my blood and urine samples. When the test result came, he said “my friend, there is nothing wrong with you.” I was confused by the test result, and went back home to bed. Luckily, my auntie, of the same age as I was, was a Sister at the University hospital, living with her husband, a lecturer, later professor at UNIFE. They lived just outside the campus. Since I could not eat, she brought me Itsekiri-style pepper soup every morning. That was all I could tolerate for almost a whole month. The full story of this final encounter with the demon called “in love” would make a blockbuster Nollywood film. Such were my daring acts of madness which made me shudder when I remembered them in subsequent years.
When I recovered, I sat myself down to analyze my life. My conclusion was that I had a dangerous tendency to “fall in love”, thus, losing my sense or capacity to reason. Secondly, I needed to have an armour against falling “in love” rather than simply loving a person. Thirdly, I reasoned that the best protection against falling “in love” was to get married. Once married, even if a man has a “roving eye”, the stability and responsibilities brought about by marriage would control his feelings and stop him from running amok, because the space for “in love” would have been blocked by realities. So, I decided to marry. I got married to Sheila Tare Ogedegbe at the ripe age of 36, six years too late.