“I gave you my entire life, I forfeited my sleep… what did I get in return?” Solomon lamented his failure in the just-released May diet ICAN professional examinations. As he wallowed in the agony of his recurring failures, the nursery rhyme from his five-year-old son cut short his litany of woes.
“Daddy, I can recite state and capital,” Tomisin ran towards him.
Tomisin was barely a week old when he started taking the ICAN exams, and now five years down the line, he was still stuck in a spot and had never passed any paper.
“Okay, my baby, let me hear you recite it.”
“State and capital…Abia – Umuahia, Adamawa – Yola, Akwa Ibom – Uyo, Anambra – Awka…Zamfara – Gusau,” Tomisin reeled out the entire thirty-six states of Nigeria with a loud applause for himself.
“That’s my boy!” he lifted and twirled the little boy around and then made him sit on his lap.
“Can I ask you a question?”
“Yes, daddy,” Tomisin replied excitedly.
“What is the capital of Kwara State?”
Tomisin pondered for a while and then shook his head. “My teacher did not teach me.”
Solomon felt like spanking his little buttocks, but the little boy’s innocence subdued him.
Solomon travelled to Ogun State the following weekend for an event organised by the Accountancy department of his alma mater. Although the trip was unplanned, when he heard that his favourite artist, Segun Johnson, would be performing at the event, he reconsidered.
“Accountant kweenu!” the PRO of the association greeted his comrades in their usual professional slogan.
“Kweenu!” The response was almost deafening.
The hall grew livelier as more old students entered the hall. The passage of years had robbed him of most of his acquaintances. However, it was a blessing in disguise for him because he was not prepared for much fraternity. Trying as hard as possible to avoid any conversation regarding professional qualifications, he spoke merely about his job. Thankfully, the official car he brought to the event made him immune to intimidation of any sort.
“Comrades, please, bear with us, our guest artiste will be joining us any time soon,” the PRO announced.
Solomon felt a tinge of envy at the way the PRO brandished the ICAN wristband he wore like a lucky charm. The pain of not being able to pass any paper since he started writing the ICAN examinations, saddened him. But why is the ICAN study pack so voluminous that no matter how much he read it, the questions usually appear very complex during the exams?
“Wise King Solomon!” a female voice echoed behind him.
Instantly, he knew who it was: Aanu Jelelaiye.
Aanu Jejelaiye was the least of his classmates whom he was eager to see. The young lady was notorious in their undergraduate years for her frequent requests for help during tests or exams. “Ejo, help mi,” became her usual slogan, which subsequently replaced her real name.
“Ejo help mi,” Solomon called her nickname in a sarcastic tone.
Aanu Jejelaiye smiled, revealing a gap in her teeth; the unique feature which had attracted several of his male classmates to her, but not him. He would never go for beauty without brains.
“Where have you been all this time?” she asked.
“Lagos,” he replied casually.
“Wow, the same Lasgidi where I live, interesting!” she stressed. “Which of the districts do you belong to?”
Solomon paused for a while. What district was she referring to? Does she think that he is into grassroots politics?
“I’m referring to the ICAN district society,” she quickly added.
Solomon was stunned. What concerns an Agbero with overload? His mind ran wild. How could Aanu possibly be a chartered accountant?
“Solo, I can read your mind,” she barged into his array of thoughts. “Yes, I am a chartered accountant of five years.”
Aanu trailed off on her journey of academic transformation, which started when she met her fiancé, Alex, a year after graduation. Displeased with her 1.89 CGPA result, Alex had sent her back to school two years after they got married. The feat, which appeared impossible initially, gradually got easier when she realised that her only problem was intellectual laziness. The intellectual rebirth not only led to rewriting her academic story but also propelled her to sit for the ICAN professional exams shortly after her graduation.
“That is my story in a flash,” she ended with a smile.
Solomon felt the remains of his ego dangling in the air, about to crash.
“I hope to see you at the next annual accountant conference in Abuja,” she continued.
“I read the ICAN study packs cover to cover at every diet, but I had never passed a paper once,” his voice fell flat.
Solomon noticed the impact his confession had on Aanu. Who would have thought that eighteen years later, he would be the one needing help with how to pass an exam?
“I teach Advanced Taxation in one of the ICAN tuition centres at Yaba,” Aanu revealed. “One of the discoveries I made about students failing ICAN exams is that they read so much without knowing how to apply the knowledge to passing their exams. So, when they fail, they claim their teacher never taught them…”
The words hit Solomon so hard. He was no different from his son, who could only recite the thirty-six states in Nigeria but did not know the capital of Kwara State. If there was anyone who needed spanking, it was him. The confidence with which Aanu spoke fascinated him. Now, the tables had turned, and he was the one needing help.
“Solomon, I can help you out,” she said, barging into his thoughts and handing out her business card. “Success is not always about effort, but strategy. It is not over until you succeed.”