My dear Prince Nduka, Nwènè,
Happy 67th Birthday!
Exactly fifty-four years ago—on the 12th of January, 1972—we both arrived at Edo College as skinny Form One boys with oversized dreams and undersized pockets. We were all trying to look intelligent, brave and important. Some succeeded in looking only hungry. But from the very beginning, there was something unmistakably different about you.
The rest of us were busy trying to understand the timetable. You looked like you were already planning the future.
The rest of us worried about passing examinations. You appeared to be preparing to examine the world.
The rest of us wanted to become successful men. You quietly carried yourself like someone who intended to build institutions that successful men would one day seek out.
At that age, we could not explain it. Boys are too young to recognise destiny when it is wearing school sandals.
Today, however, age has given us better eyesight than our eyes ever had. Looking back, I can now say confidently that Heaven deposited something extraordinarily special in you.
Your life has proved it.
You have consistently demonstrated that impossible is often nothing more than a lazy opinion. You have influenced governments without contesting elections, shaped public opinion without carrying a ballot box, built media institutions that command global respect, and reminded the world that an African mind loses nothing by thinking on a global scale.
Permit me therefore to repeat what I have said before: *you remain the most influential Black man alive today.*
Now, let us discuss the matter that no birthday celebration should ignore—your grey hair.
My dear brother, your grey hair has become so ambitious that it has overtaken mine. I honestly thought I was leading comfortably in that competition until I saw your latest photographs. I have therefore instructed my own grey hairs to file an appeal.
In fact, if grey hair were crude oil, Nigeria would have declared you a strategic national asset.
If silver strands attracted taxation, the Federal Inland Revenue Service would appoint you Chairman of the Board.
And if wisdom truly comes with grey hair, then your head should by now qualify as a UNESCO World Heritage Site!
But then, our elders warned us long ago: “The beard may grow white, but it never forgets where the mouth is.” Age is valuable only when it is accompanied by wisdom, and God has generously blessed you with both.
Another proverb says, “When an elephant walks through the forest, it does not need to announce itself. The broken branches speak for it.” You have reached that stage in life where your achievements introduce you long before anyone pronounces your name.
As for Edo College, I suspect our old teachers would be smiling wherever they are. Imagine them taking attendance today:
“Festus?”
“Present, Sir!”
“Nduka?”
“Present, Sir… but currently attending to Africa, Europe, America and the rest of the world!”
I also thank God that, despite all the influence, honours and global recognition, I can still tease you about your hair. That is one of the priceless privileges reserved for classmates who have travelled together from adolescence into old age. Friendship seasoned over more than five decades becomes family.
Nwènè, thank you for showing that excellence is not an accident. Thank you for proving that courage, vision and hard work can take an African to the highest tables in the world without asking anyone for permission.
May Almighty God continue to preserve you in excellent health, renew your strength like the eagle’s, sharpen your mind even further, enlarge your coast and grant you many more decades of impact. May generations yet unborn study your life and conclude that they witnessed a man who refused to think small.
Happy 67th Birthday, Prince.
Continue to soar. Continue to inspire. Continue to make Africa proud.
And please… leave some grey hair for the rest of us!
With abiding admiration, brotherly affection and a heart full of gratitude,
Dr. Festus Goziem Okubor
Your classmate since 12 January 1972, in Edo College.