FATE has a way of intruding into our individual and collective lives in ways that might eventually prove providential. The text message from Mr Sule arrived on Thursday, July 10, 2014 and on Saturday, July 12, 2014, I found myself at the Redemption Camp – for reasons which cannot now be disclosed.
Never one to miss an opportunity for a self-guided tour of the facilities of any university, I proceeded to re-examine the Redeemer’s University, lodged in the bosom of the global headquarters of the Redeemed Christian Church of God. I will, for now, leave my observations about other aspects of the university untouched. Each one will be included in future articles concerning university life in Nigeria.
Let me declare, upfront, that I am a Christian – so nobody should send me a text presuming that this article is written by a Muslim. I am also the grandson of one Alhaji and two Alhajas – so I can see the virtues in the two religions. Second, nobody sent me to Redeem. I went there on my own in the spirit of free and unfettered inquiry into an institution which is one of those shaping the future of Nigeria. Finally, I did not go to investigate the murder of the late SAN. That is an unfortunate incident – which all Nigerians must pray never occurs again; not at Redeem and not anywhere else.
To be candid, I did not have a check list of what to look for. But, something would usually turn up – especially when the investigator is open-minded enough. After about one hour of roaming around, I landed in front of the TANTALISER Building – which I understand was constructed by the national fast food chain. In front of it is a notice board – which could benefit from replacement. The glass was broken and the only notice on it was weather-beaten beyond words. I was tempted to move on; but curiousity held me back. I wanted to read what was on the board because one can pick up a great deal of information about an institution from the items on its notice board(s). So, I approached the notice board. TREASURE!!
Dess code for male and female students
I once met an old man in Colorado, USA, in 1971, whose father went in search of gold in Colorado in the 1880s; he did not know where to go but, he went to a river and started fishing. No fish. Suddenly, he saw something glistering. It was a huge gold nugget. That old man could not have felt more divinely rewarded than I was when starring at me was the DRESS CODE FOR FEMALE and MALE STUDENTS of the Redeemers University.
Unfortunately, I had no paper. Otherwise, I would have quoted some of the rules and regulations contained in the dress codes for female and male students of the university.
There were eighteen entries under the female code and fourteen under the male list. But, in reality, there were over thirty prescriptions, mostly proscriptions, for dressing under the two codes.
Everything from the top of the head to the toes of the feet had a rule to guide what can be done with it. The drafters of the codes, certainly well-meaning individuals, must have borrowed their ideas, about dressing, from the monasteries of 13thand 14thcentury Europe with scant regard for the social developments which had taken place since then. Creativity in dressing, as well as self-expression, granted allied with modesty, had been totally snuffed out in a bid to produce graduates who can only fit into life at the Camp. Those were my initial impressions.
The first question is: “Does it work to produce great scholars and professional achievers?” My answer is: “it is doubtful”. And, the following are my reasons.
My wife and I bought a house in Cambridge, Massachusetts, in 1969, on a street almost halfway between MIT and Harvard Universities while working for Polaroid Corporation based in Cambridge.
The Greater Boston area was, and is still, full of universities, turning out students, some of who were later to become great scholars and inventors. Almost invariably, the greatest technological inventors (the few who were responsible for over 70% of Polaroid’s 4,000-plus patents for instance) were generally disheveled individuals; some were so unkempt you would need to wash your hands after shaking hands with them. Dress code? Forget it. One fellow at MIT wore the same pair of jeans for three years straight
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