Special to USAfrica magazine (Houston) and USAfricaonline.com, first Africa-owned, US-based newspaper published on the Internet.
Dr. Okey Anueyiagu, public policy analyst and author of the book ‘Biafra, The Horrors of War, The Story of A Child Soldier’, is a contributor to USAfrica.
I have suddenly realised that life is like a roller-coaster, a hangover – fleeting, excruciating, intense, difficult, lingering, and seemingly endless at times, with rapid velocity and acceleration. For me, a lone supernova thrusted me into playing golf, a game I thought and felt very little or nothing of in the so many years that it surrounded me. This somewhat changed a part of my life.
For the last 40 years or so, 1 have been surrounded by family and friends who were enthralled and thrilled by the game of golf, most of them addicted to hitting those helpless round little balls mercilessly, and following them aimlessly in such a frantic, peregrinating and lunatic manner, that I thought of them as intently demented people. Then, when I found out how much money and time they spend playing this sport, I knew instantly, that there were some things inherently wrong with these little ball hitters and perambulators of the Greenfields.
Then, I married the daughter of an avid golfer who played the sport almost every day except on Sundays. My father-in-law tried to persuade me to pick up golf, but I shunned and resisted all his entreaties, dismissing his love for the sport as that of a man who was already well accomplished, fulfilled and had achieved so much, that he needed an outlet to release his pent-up extra energy by hitting and following innocent balls all over the place. I once visited him at the Ikeja Golf Club and found him in the company of his friends at the Club House, after a grueling game, dealing with sumptuous plates of goat pepper soup and well-marinated suya over sweating chilled bottles of beer.
The sight of this, as appealing as it was, did not take me into playing golf. I was reminded by my father-in-law’s playing buddies that he was one of their best players in the club; that at the age of 80 years and going into his 90s, he was upholding a perfect single digits handicap. At that time, I was oblivious of what a handicap meant in golf, except that l expected a handicap to be in a wheelchair.
Some 15 years ago, l acquired a property in the suburbs of Atlanta, Georgia, situated in one of the best golf estates of the over 350 golf courses in the State of Georgia, USA. I became instantly surrounded and suffocated by golf from all angles. Even as I continued to ignore its presence, it intruded with such propensity and prepense into my life. Every so often, a big golf tournament that even had the great Tiger Woods and other popular players in attendance, would occur. I couldn’t care less, but was mostly concerned with the massive disruptions that such roistering spectacle and circus brought.
Then came the dreadful COVID-19 Pandemic. When the pandemic began, I and my entire family were sequestered in our Atlanta home, hiding and hibernating, and learning to be together while being apart, and navigating the pain and agony of feeling apart while together. The world was in turmoil and our gatherings became fraught with dangers and dire consequences. The virus had taken so many lives of very close family members and beloved friends.
While I was in total isolation, the quarantine made me learn a lot about my significant others, making me stronger while rediscovering and experiencing the joys of bonding as well as the suffocation of being in each others way and in constant proximity.
Staying at home during this period, made me restless and golf presented the only outlet for an idle and tired mind and body. Golf, because it is played in the open, was one of the few interactive activities that was safe and practicable during COVID. Two friends of mine who are golfers, and lived around the corner from me, provided a beautiful example or examination of how loneliness and boredom can be transformed, cracked open, with the slightest touch from other living things. My friends, Ike and Brian introduced me to golf as a dramatic escape and expansion of my groundbreaking adventure and a preparation with veneration to fall in love with something I hated, dreaded and snubbed with such anathema and glee.
Today, l am a golfer. I play the sport with such imperfections that present imperceptible variables for me. Although I have been a member of the Ikoyi Club in Lagos for almost 30 years, I have just started playing golf there for some 4 years now. Previously, l only went to the Club to watch my wife play tennis and squash, and my children swim. My favourite outings were for the taste of Ikoyi Club suya and pepper soup.
I must confess that apart from the belly-aching silly and petty local politics at these clubs, I enjoy going out to swing. However, unfortunately, the growth of the game of golf in Nigeria, is not being matched by the infrastructural development of the facilities. The older courses remain derelict portraying direct reflections of our national decay and decadence. And the members and managers of some of these clubs remain mired in petty bickerings, paying little or no attention to the improvement of this game. Even as l am not too sure about the socialization benefits of golf gatherings, the game has revealed to me that you can tell a person’s character almost to a pin-point accuracy from his/her performance on the golf course. A person who cheats in golf, is a manifestation of a horrible person in real life. This game is a tradition that is definitely unlike any other.
