By Valentine Obienyem
On Sunday, during the sermon by Bishop Jonas Benson Okoye at St. Ambrose Catholic Church, Ogbor-Hill, he stressed the urgent need for parents to take the work of parenting seriously. The occasion was the 50th wedding anniversary of Sir Leo Okoye, yet the bishop could not hide his concern about the declining state of the sacrament of matrimony. He noted that children raised by committed Catholic parents – who truly treat the family as a domestic Church – rarely lose their moral footing.
To illustrate how far society has drifted, he narrated an incident from his home: a young man wandered into his compound, visibly unstable. When he entered the toilet, they had to apprehend him. It turned out he had taken “nkpurumiri” and was completely out of his wits. Such incidents show what substances, whether cigarettes, Igbo, kolos, Shisha, Kinkana, Monkey tail, loud, Cana, okuisinaja, SK, isi monkey, Gum, Codeine, Tramadol, Sweet, Happy Hour, or nkpurumiri” are doing to Nigerian youth. Yet one keeps asking why, despite seeing the destructive effects firsthand, many young people cling to these substances as if they had discovered a “ninth heaven.”
This became the topic of our discussion this morning, Thursday, as we drove to the airport to receive our principal, who had a few visits to make across the Southeast. In the car were myself, Dr. E-Money, Arinze Okoye (whom we call “Cardinal”), and HE’s driver, Chidi. Each of us had a story to tell because I was the first to open up.
In 1989, when I was in SS3, one of our rascally classmates – Mr. Victor Okoronkwo from Ajali, whom we nicknamed Gaddafi – was smoking where we were gathered. Another boy with us was Mr. Peter Ugboajah, whom we called “Umaru Dikko” because he was always absent from school. After a long holiday, he once stayed away for over a month until his parish priest probably forcibly brought him back, earning him the nickname.
On that fateful day, Gaddafi smoked confidently while boasting about the pleasure it gave him. Out of childish curiosity, I asked what was enjoyable about smoking. He laughed in his merrifloricsome manner and offered me a puff. I refused at first, but his descriptions of what I was supposedly missing drew me in. I puffed once and exhaled. He laughed and said I would never “feel anything” unless I inhaled. Trying to prove something – perhaps to him, perhaps to myself – I inhaled deeply. Immediately, I was struck by “aju.” That single experience ended my smoking career before it began.
After our laughter subsided, Kingland (Ambassador E-Money) shared his own initiation. As a young boy living with Fr. Prof. Peter Akpunonu, a chain-smoking priest once visited. Out of curiosity, he stole one cigarette from the man’s pack. The moment he tried it, he could not smile again for hours because of the choking effect. Since then, he stopped experimenting.
Not wanting to be outdone, Cardinal narrated his ordeal. As a university freshman, eager to “belong” to a group that smoked, he took a few puffs and ended up with hiccups that lasted for days. Terrified, he hid it from his parents until the doctor threatened to slap him if he did not admit he had tried a cigarette. That confession marked the end of his smoking journey.
Even our gentle driver, Chidi, had a story. He recalled clubbing at Optimum Night Club in Idumota when the news of Fela’s death broke. As a sign of respect for the fallen icon, everyone in the club lit a cigarette. The unpleasant effects that followed ensured he never smoked again.
Listening to all these stories, it became clear that almost everyone carries a youthful tale of experimentation, misjudgment, or peer influence. Even many of our elders and clergy may have their own private histories. After all, we are told that the late Pope Francis once worked as a bouncer – an environment not exactly known for angelic company.
These stories remind us that the journey of youth is often marked by curiosity and the urge to belong. Most people who smoked for the first time did so not out of personal conviction, but because of the anxiety of group acceptance. Søren Kierkegaard captures this perfectly when he warns that “the crowd is untruth,” meaning that individuals often lose themselves when they surrender their judgment to group influence. Aristotle, on the other hand, teaches that “we are what we repeatedly do,” emphasizing that youthful habits harden into adult character.
This is why formation is indispensable. A seminary, for instance, is not meant to destroy human nature but to guide it along an ennobling path. What is truly regrettable is not that young people experiment – many of us did – but that some adults refuse to outgrow but rather remain becalmed in the vices they absorbed through the osmosis of peer pressure is worrisome. Growth demands self-correction; without it, one becomes stagnant, trapped in habits that should have been discarded long ago.
