The University of Nigeria, Nsukka, Literature 301 (African Fiction) Class was weeks late in starting for the 1980/81 academic year. On the fourth week, the students had gathered as usual even before it was time for the class. Then five minutes after the time, a large Mercury Monarch car drove in and parked beside the class. A man of middle height in a brown safari suit and with a deeply creased and very serious face atop an erect body walked into the class.
He greeted the class and went straight to perch at the edge of the table, disdaining the chair – and waited for the hum his entry had elicited to die down. It didn't. Two minutes later he cleared his throat, went to the black board and began to write even as he spoke: "my name is…" and the class roared: C-H-I-N-U-A A-C-H-E-B-E!!!.
He shook his head ever so slightly, like somebody who had gotten used to such antics, nay adulation, and reminded the class that other students were also taking lectures in other sections of the Ansah Building which the English Department shared with Economics. Then he apologized for having not been in the country for almost a month, making the students to lose several lectures. He explained that such international engagements were making more demands on his time and he had decided to do something about his having to struggle to meet up with his lectures. With that he had hinted us that that we would be his last class in Nigeria … but that master of understatement did not make it that clear then.
He asked if we had all bought the long list of text recommended text books, and he added another long list; the class asked if we could ever have the time to treat all of them. No, he spoke ever so softly, so softly that you sometimes had to strive to hear him, saying that our studies would neither begin nor end in the class room. "You have to go beyond the official list of books. The world is your stage", he announced: "reach out and take it. Tackle it, subdue it. I'm just your guide. Soon, you'll forget me and open your wings wide and fly". His words were not rushing out; instead, he almost counted his words as he released them slowly as though he deliberately weighed each word before letting it pass through his lips.
Achebe was ever patient; never shouting at any student; not even when they gave the worst of answers. Instead, he would say, "why not look at it this way"?
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