*The Day Freedom Tasted Like Jollof and Cold Mirinda: October 1, 1960*
_(A story that replayed in my mind last night)_
If you were not a schoolchild on October 1st, 1960, I must say with a mix of pity and pride: you missed one of the greatest days our village has ever seen.
The world woke up that Thursday morning under a brand-new sky. The Union Jack was gone, the Green-White-Green was rising, and a young Nigeria was taking its very first breath as an independent nation.
Across every single school in our village, the morning felt electric. We walked into our school compound expecting the usual—the rhythmic scrape of wooden desks, the dry dust of white chalk, and the strict routine of school life. But there was no chalk on the blackboards that morning. Not in our class, and not in any other classroom in the village. It was a day frozen in time.
The Prince Who Put Down the Cane
In Primary 4, our teacher was Prince Francis Adeleye Alli. A man who always carried himself with royal grace, Prince Francis looked at us that morning with a look we had never seen before—a profound, joyous pride.
He didn’t reach for the duster. He didn’t write a single sum on the board. Instead, he smiled, stood tall, and let us know that on this day, the textbooks would remain shut. The same scene was playing out across every school compound in the village—teachers and headmasters laying down their canes and lesson notes to celebrate history in the making.
A Village-Wide Feast for the Children of Freedom
What happened next was a masterclass in celebration. Across the entire village, every school had coordinated a feast fit for the dawn of a new republic:
Mountains of Rice and Stew: Cooked in giant iron pots over open fires, the rich, crimson-red stew sent an intoxicating aroma wafting into every compound and through the village paths. Portions were served so generously that even the hungriest pupils were humbled into silent, blissful eating.
_Rivers_ of cold Mirinda and krola: Crisp, bright, and cold (not ice-cold o), Mirinda flowed endlessly in every classroom. We toasted to freedom, our lips stained orange, our laughter ringing out across the village.
The Sacred Colors: Every single pupil across every school was served with special disposable plates and cups proudly bearing the brand-new national colors: Green, White, and Green.
Prince F.A Alli, (now late) moved between our desks like royalty presiding over a grand banquet, making sure no child’s plate was empty and every cup was full.
A Piece of the Nation to Take Home
Before we were dismissed, every child in every school across the village was handed a small, pristine, handheld Nigerian flag.
Holding that crisp piece of green-white-green fabric—freshly printed for a sovereign state—did something to us. As the afternoon ended, thousands of children flooded out of the school gates and poured into the village paths, waving their tiny flags high in the October breeze. The entire village was bathed in green and white, buzzing with singing, cheering, and pure, unfiltered hope.
Decades have passed, but I can still taste that stew, feel the cool fizz of that Mirinda, and see Prince Francis standing proudly at the front of Primary 4.
To those who weren’t in school in our village on that historic day in 1960… I am truly sorry. You can read about Independence in history books, but we tasted it, drank it, and carried it home in our hands.
