Dr Nnamdi Azikiwe

By 11 p.m, I decided that the best way out was to lie down across the rail so that when the tram came by at midnight it would run over me and cut matter shot. This plan was well devised because the track of the tram was a descent of the hill, and it would be difficult for the tram to stop, and by the time it stopped I would have been ground like a sausage. I packed my few belongings and enclosed three letter in my portmanteau: one was addressed to my father, another to my mother, and the third to Dr MacDonald.

It was now 12:45 am and Centre Avenue was practically deserted. I thought that was the opportunity to execute my designs. At 12:50 am I heard the tram about 300 yards away at the top of the top of the hill. I prayed to God to accept my soul, and, bracing up, I reclined across the track. Anxiously waiting the approach of the speeding tram.

Nearer and nearer it came, and faster and faster it moved. My heart throbbed and almost leapt out of my mouth as the mental strain became too much for me. I did not waver, I prayed harder and harder for the tram to grind me to pieces and let me have peace of mind. Then, suddenly and unexpectedly, a good Samaritan dragged me away from the track. As soon as the tram was about twenty yards or so from where I lay, I heard the screeching of steel.

Nearer and nearer it came, and faster and faster it moved. My heart throbbed and almost leapt out of my mouth as the mental strain became too much for me. I did not waver, I prayed harder and harder for the tram to grind me to pieces and let me have peace of mind. Then, suddenly and unexpectedly, a good Samaritan dragged me away from the track. As soon as the tram was about twenty yards or so from where I lay, I heard the screeching of steel.

The conductor had seen what he thought was a struggle between two persons and he applied the emergency break. Because it was downhill the break did not respond immediately, hence the screeching; and by the time it came to a dead stop, the tram was about ten yards from us. There was confusion inside it, because the emergency stop had caused some of the passengers to become frantic, thinking that some accident had happened. Some women shrieked.

Meanwhile, I opened my eyes. Then I said to this unknown friend: ‘Why didn’t you let me die?’ He answered: “Because life is full of the glory of God. Why must you die, so young and so full of promise?’

‘Oh, you have messed up everything. You should have left me die,’ I replied disappointedly.

The conductor having satisfied himself that it was only ‘Nigger’ who wanted to die, continued his journey as the passengers gossiped about the incident.

“Look here, my boy,’ said the kind friend, ‘why did you do this? Your life belongs to God. You have no right to take it away.’

‘Yes. Sir.’ I remarked, ‘but God must have known that I must live, before he made me. Why, then did he allow me to become friendless and dejected so as to starve when I live in a world where there is plenty of foods?’

The gentleman took me to the YMCA and explained to the desk clerk on night duty what had happened. One pint of milk was given to me for nourishment. I was guided upstairs to my room by the desk clerk and the unknown friend. Then I went to bed. When I woke up the next day, I found an envelope addressed to me. It contained five dollars. There was also an unsigned note which assured me that I would be introduced to a friend, to realize that the world was not a wilderness after all.

I had a hearty meal that day. I went to my usual restaurant and the waiter brought the regular fare one cup of coffee and two slice of bread. I told him that I wanted something else. He was flabbergasted because he knew that for some time that had been my regular order. Oh yes, Italian restaurateurs are usually mindful of their patrons, and this fellow was no exception! I placed an order for beef steak, and when I got through with the meal I felt much better.

As soon as I returned to the Young Men’s Christian Association (YMCA), I was told that a reverend gentleman was there to see me. In a note that he left me, the Rev. Dr A.M. Lamb, a white Presbyterian minister, introduced himself as a friend and requested that I should have lunch with him at one of Pittsburgh’s leading hotels that day. I kept this appointment and cultivated his acquaintance. He assured me of his deep interest in me and my future.

Placing his aged hand on my head, he said to me, “it is the unseen hand of Providence that saved you early this morning and brought me here, my son.’ Then he announced that he had a job for me at a restaurant which belonged to one of his friends. The job would last for two weeks. It was dish-washing. If I cared for it, I could have it, and in two weeks’ time, the Lord would provide another opening. The pay was 15 dollars weekly, and the hours of work were from 7 am to 7 pm and one day off every two weeks.

I accepted the job. He gave me a note to the manager of this branch of ‘Gammon’s Restaurant and Cafeteria’. There were some branches in Pittsburgh. I left him and went to my mew job. He returned to his manse, at Cheswick, and thus began a friendship which was destined to be lifelong. As soon as I gave the manager the letter of introduction, he shook my hand and spoke to me familiarly: ‘I am glad to know you Mr. Azikiwe; go to the head dish-washer and he will give you an apron. You can start on the job right away.’

For two weeks I learned the art of dish-washing. It was fascinating. At times, from fifty to one hundred used plates would be piled on the sinks. I and another colleague, a student of Mechanical Dentistry, would then stack them in the machine and ‘let go’. In a jiffy, hot water jets would saturate the front and backs of the plates in an elliptical manner washing away the dirt on the dishes. We would then remove them and all we had to do was to wipe he dishes dry with clean towels.

When the man whose position I filled returned, the manager was not disposed to give him back his job. According to the workers he had a bad record. He swore at the waitresses, handled the dishes carelessly, and at times he was drunk; but he was very industrious; he would work for hours without rest and that was his saving grace. The manager told me that I need not leave. He would remove the fellow to another branch of the establishment. When I noticed that this fellow did not take kindly to the idea of being transferred, I begged the manager to reinstate him, telling him I had prospects for another temporary job. He agreed and promised to engage me whenever I returned for the winter, it then being the fall. I took leave of my co-workers and went to the cashier for my pay.

Once more I was unemployed; but I had better prospects since I now had friends who cared and were willing to help, it is became necessary.

Credit: My Odyssey, An Authobiography by Nnamdi Azikiwe