My childhood hero.

Today May 19th would have been Sam Okwaraji's 51st birthday. He was a professional footballer who played for
Nigeria and a lawyer. He passed away on the 12th day of August 1989..

Source: Nigeria Centenary

Growing up in Eastern Nigeria in the late 1990's, precisely Anambra, i had a number of play songs picked up in break periods, assemblies and informal gatherings of kids near my house. One of those songs circled around the heroic trait of Sam Okwaraji.

Sometimes, i curled on the legs of my elders to listen as  they glowed and sighed at the untimely death of "that footballer with dada that loved Nigeria so much". In my child mind, i always wished i can be awwed and ohhed for, like Sam, when i will die. I will wish that one day, i will be the female Sam, becoming a reference point for my numerous relatives.

As i grew older, into adolescent, i moved to northern Nigeria, Abuja. The story didn't change. That was when the story of Sam was elaborated. Or rather, i began to yearn for the elaboration of Sam's heroism. What did he do? Why is he a hero? I began to ask questions. Now, i no longer curled at the feet of my elders, rather, newspapers replaced them. I began to read.
I grew up with an avid newspaper patron, so that rubbed off on me. Every corner of the flat had mountains of newspaper, old editions dating back to five to ten years ago - as of when i realized that reading was a hobby for me.

Naturally, reading about Sam-  his history, and the achievements my young mind failed to grasp earlier - didn't take long. Just like today, someone penned down a tribute for him in one of the older editions,  elaborating on his patriotism and why we need more of his type. I came to a stop.

"At a point, the young footballer from Imo state was reportedly to have paid the hotel and flight bills of his teammates so that Nigeria can be represented in a tournament..."

I chewed on that paragraph for a longer time, made some calculations, weighed whether i can do what he did, did some resolutions and continued with the tribute.

I guess till today, that paragraph about him was permanently engraved in my head. I don't think it will ever run away like the some memories and stories hidden somewhere. It has become another memoir of the dead man added to the childhood memorabilia i collected of him. It will always be a reminder that heroes don't fall from the sky, they sacrifice, they deny themselves stuffs they would've loved to have, they invest in humans around them instead filling up the bellies of their bank accounts. They build human beings; and above all, love humanity, even if they will sacrifice for that love.

My e-salute to a childhood superhero.