It was high noon in Lagos. Outside, the
tropical sun had crested and it seemed as if the world was a furnace. But I was
ensconced in a climate-controlled, elegantly-furnished corporate Boardroom in
downtown Lagos. Although a Saturday, the matter at hand was serious. My
employers had a four week deadline to close an M&A deal or risk going out
of business all together. Together with a group of colleagues and consultants,
we were furiously working against time and at great odds to make the deal
happen.
It was a high
octane, testosterone-charged environment as counter parties strove to get the
best possible deals for their respective corporations. I was midstream in the
course of one such submissions when the persistence beeping of my cell phone
compelled me to excuse myself and reach for it in annoyance. As I made to
notify the caller to call back at a more auspicious time; I literarily stopped
dead on my tracks. To the onlookers, as I would later be told, my facial
expressions morphed from panic, disbelief, shock, and horror all in one split
second. They were all transfixed and watched as the phone fell from my hands in
dreamlike fashion. My hard-nosed negotiator reputation rapidly peeled away as I
cried uncontrollably like a baby.
The phone call
was from Daddy and he had given me the news as he got it: there had been a
plane crash at the Port Harcourt Airport. Kechi and about 60 other school mates
of hers had all perished. The news was irrefutable as Ije and other parents who
were at the airport saw the plane disintegrate into a ball of fire.
Random
thoughts ran through my mind as I grieved. I remembered the day Kechi was born
and how her Dad and I anxiously paced the corridors of First Consultant
Hospital and the sheer joy that followed her birth. Till this day, Kechi
remains the prettiest baby I ever saw. To have watched her grow in beauty,
brains and manners and to see her plucked away at the threshold of womanhood
was a personal blow, too cruel for me to fathom. Strikingly, she reminded me of
Ify, her cousin, another Jewel whose death finds root in our country's
intractable inability to place regard and value to the lives of it's citizenry.
But with my
Kechi story, the plane crash and the news of her 'death' was the high point of
evil, grief and despair. Joy and amazing grace however followed swiftly. A few
hours later another phone call from Daddy sowed a mustard seed of hope which
incredibly blossomed into a full fledged confirmation that Kechi had somehow
defied death and was tenaciously clinging to life in a Port Harcourt hospital.
Apparently someone had found her with three-quarters of her entire body burnt
near the crash site and in that condition she was still able to give this
individual her mum's phone numbers.
That was our
reconnection with Kechi and the commencement of her incredible story of God's
love, favor and amazing grace.
No comments:
Post a Comment