The year was 2001. Lagos, Nigeria.
I had just completed my National Youth Service Corps assignment. I had enjoyed the year tremendously. Not only because I got to work with Nigeria’s very first internet service provider, ensuring I had an unfettered access to the internet, an access that less than 1% of Nigerians had at that time; but I had also been able to complete my MCSE (Microsoft Certified Systems Engineer) Certification exams earlier that year. There were six different modules to go through, and although thousands of people had to re-take at least one module, I had gone through them in a breeze. Of course, I received tremendous help from family, especially from my very loving parents (who were both retired), and from my big brother “Bros Dee”, who paid for a number of the exams. I will forever be grateful for their sacrifice.
But on this fateful day in August 2001, I was unhappy and I did not know why.
I was on a lunch break from my internet service support duties and having a quick lunch at “Mr Biggs” on Akin Adesola Street in Victoria Island. It no longer stands on that street today, but back then in 2001, Mr Biggs on Akin Adesola was thriving. My office was in Eagle House, just about three buildings away.
For no reason in particular, I was not in a very good mood. It was not the food, as I’ve never been the picky eater. I literally follow Apostle Paul’s injunction that whatever is placed before you, ask no questions, receive it with thanksgiving and eat on. While some people have highly developed tongues to know what food lacks what spice, I have never been in that prison.
So, it was not the food.