'Lord of the Manor' By Adesina Ogunlana

THE LEARNED SQUIB

A man’s home is said to be his castle. Why? And, why castle? A castle is a symbol of a haven, a place of safety, even redoubt of freedom and liberty for the owner. In one’s home, properly so called, one feels very free indeed. Free to be at peace and ease with one self. Free to display and disport without fear of attack, criticism exposure or ridicule.
A man’s home, little wonder then, is one of his most prized possessions. Of course homes come in different shapes and sizes, the important thing is that it must really be a place where a person feels the least qualms and where he is most likely to be true to himself.
In one’s home you can dine on any-thing, any-how and any-time. For example, I know of a man who has two different ways taking bread and tea.
In high society, and away from home, he eats his bread, in bits and pieces, carefully, thoughtfully and meticulously chewing his transformed wheat and then sips his tea straight way from the cup ever so gently and with utmost delicacy. He makes no fuss about his tea or his bread, no matter how unsatisfactory to his buccal canyon and esophageal tunnel.
This same man (please stop suspecting me as the culprit) tackles his bread and tea in more liberal terms once at home. For starters, he spoons into his mouth some of the tea for tentative appreciation of its virtues, before casting some parts of the bread into the enriched and sweetened and coloured, hot H2O.
He then waits a few seconds, about five, before hauling the delicious lump into his mouth. Of course, we all know, that’s a barbaric way of dining on bread and tea, but our man does not care-after all it is a home-based barbarity.
In one’s house, one, depending on the circumstances, can afford to walk about in the manner of Adam and Eve, before the duo discovered the art of fashion designing or one may adopt the 80% nudity style popularised by Fela Anikulapo Kuti, where the only piece of cloth on a person only covers his or her genitalia.
Clearly not many people are like Fela, so only a few can embrace the 80% nudity style. But only a few, especially men will, in their own homes, feel too embarrassed to go about half-naked, especially waist-up. But how many can afford to adopt even the 50% nudity style outside their homes? You don’t know any? I don’t blame you. Even me, I only know one person, who did that.
This wonderful person is a lawyer, a senior lawyer, called to the bar twenty-two years ago. He is an easy going and quietly successful specialist counsel. What the gentleman does not know about moving and perfecting bail (at the magistrate courts) is not worth knowing.
On Thursday, 29th May 2008, (Democracy) I came to meet a client in compound B of the Ikeja High court. Barrister Osita Egonu also came to do the same. But while waiting for his client Barrister Egonu removed his buba. He was left wearing only his trousers.
As he strolled about the compound looking for a cool place to stay and enjoy his newspapers, the barrister was a sight to behold. To me, he caught the perfect picture of a lord of the manor. His tummy described a modest convex and there was this Mona Lisa-ish half-smile playing on his hips. So free was barrister Egonu in the court premises, that Thursday afternoon than one could easily mistake the premises to be part of the man’s estate.
One young buck who was with me, however wondered at barrister Egonu’s appearance. Said the buck “Sir, honestly I thought the man was one of the gardeners in the compound or may be one of the gate-men.”
Fortunately Osita Egonu is a lawyer and not a gardener or a gate man (even if he looked the part on democracy day). And we thank the Lord for that.