THE PRESENT
As I alighted
from my Range Rover Evoque and thanked my driver, a message buzzed my S4 to
life. It was a message from my sister and her husband thanking me for the round
trip to the Bahamas which was my widow’s mite towards their twentieth
wedding anniversary. The message was quite effusive and bubbling with a zillion
“God bless you’s”. I smiled as I walked into the glassy headquarters of Divine
Meadows, my real estate outfit.
As I opened the
door to the anteroom, my eldest brother who was waiting for me in the reception
rushed at me and gave me the kind of hug that could have crushed a panda. “How
are you?”, he inquired with uncharacteristic gusto.
“I am fine,
thank you sir”, I replied.
“Tola, your
niece, is getting married and we would appreciate it if you would be the
Chairman of the occasion”, he said thrusting an invitation card into my hand.
“Boda mi, that will not be a problem, it
would actually be an honour”.
Without further
ado, he declined the drink I offered and left.
After I had
settled down, my personal assistant gave me a letter from the Association of
Residents and Landowners of Eden City Estate over which I presided. The letter
was a formal invitation to our annual end of the year party.
I exhaled, sat
down and crossed my feet on my executive, expansive, table, and allowed my eyes
rove round the multitude of plaques decorating my walls. Each one was a
testament to one honorable contribution of mine or another to the city.
It was going to
be a busy end of the year, but I was not complaining because it had not always
been like this…..
THE PAST: 47 YRS AGO
The lusty screeches
of the baby rent the night like a heated machete. Normally, such cries would
have gotten the man hunched over the seat in the clinic’s waiting room elated
but tonight, it did not even elicit the faintest smile. His wife had been in
there for more than twenty four hours and he could only imagine the worst after
all the hours of grueling labour. At a point,he had stopped caring if the baby
died or lived so long as his wife lived. He was so besotted with his wife that
fiery red soldier ants of recrimination ate up his mind at the thought of her
pains, until he thought he was going mad. He should have stopped at nine kids
but he wanted more hands for his growing cocoa farm and now he had endangered
his beloved’s life. The tears streamed down his face, a village stream
gathering momentum from the heavy rains of his sorrow and he did not even
attempt to wipe the snot that trickled down his snuff battered nostrils.
Outside,
lightening shrieked and roared, rain poured furiously from heavenly buckets.
The skies threw tantrums and wept as they empathized with the agony of the
traumatized woman.
She had lost a
lot of blood which led to the necrosis of her pituitary gland and was eventually
discharged against medical advice. The lady was a stickler for tradition and
told the doctor she would rather die than not be around for the christening of
her son which was a dumb thing to do in the Doctor’s opinion but he was
resigned to the fact that a lot of Nigerians treated traditions as god.
She went home a shadow of her usual ebullient and
stubborn self. Extremely weak, she had to be assisted to her seat at the naming
ceremony of the newly arrived son which took place on the customary eight day.
When it was time for the list of names to be passed around, there was none and
when the elders asked for the name of the baby. She said with a ring of
finality, in a voice that brooked no argument; “His name is Ibanuje (sorrow)”.
The
announcement silenced the talking drums, hushed the noise of the festivities
and discordant susurration spread through the crowd like a quiet wind through a
field of grass.
The eldest man
rose and asked the mother “Titilayo, kilode?
Why would you give your son such a bad name?”
“Baba, his
labour caused me so much pain, she replied, misty eyed and shaking her head
with the agony of the memories. The child wanted to kill me and I will not
change his name even if the river goddess appears right now and tells me to”.
Sadly, the husband was one who could never stand up to his wife, so the name
remained.
The woman died
a few months later due to an infection that attacked her weak immune system.
Hence, the little one’s journey began on a bitter note because his mother’s
death was attributed to him by all and sundry. To make matters worse he was not
the most handsome neonate in the world.
The bad name
followed the hapless boy like an evil miasma. He was also very sickly and one
day, when it seemed like he was going to give up the ghost, his father took him
to an old herbalist who disfigured his face with the most horrific
scarification marks.
He was intensely
disliked both at home and abroad. His siblings taunted him with names like scar
face and usually deprived him of any meat during meals. In school, he was
severely bullied and the mean boys called him "the runt “since he was
small and sickly looking.
Life preyed on
him. He was always at the bottom of the class and on the farm; he was useless
because he did not have the brawn needed for such muscle tasking duties. After a while, his father stopped paying his
school fees so he took to the streets for daily survival. He hawked iced water,
fish; became a conductor a couple of times until it seemed his life was going
round and round in a dismal circle.
One day, he
heard about a new company that came into town, a Jewish multinational real
estate firm known as Yeshua Global Resources Plc.
Someone helped
him apply as a driver in the company, a job he gave his best to. He moved up
the ladder of life a notch but things were still pretty difficult. His siblings
never invited him to their family meetings and he did not know most of his
nephews and nieces. They still regarded him as the pariah, the brother who had
a covenant with bad luck.
One morning, he
woke up in his Ajegunle, Lagos Nigeria apartment and looked around with distaste at the
surroundings. The stench of the place was unbearable because the gutter ran
through the middle of the compound was clogged with the faeces thrown in by his
neighbours as there was no proper drainage in that area.
He had had
enough. That morning he ran to the office of the Chairman who had come
visiting. Ibanuje had driven him a couple of times and knew he was very
accessible, approachable and multilingual.
Although the office was jokingly called the throne room because of its
size and beauty, all and sundry could see him without any fuss. However, most of the workers rarely did
because of the imposing presence of the Chairman.
That morning he
took matters into his own hands, knocked, went in and prostrated on the floor
in genuflection. The Chairman asked him what the problem was.
"Sir, the
driver said, I need help. My life was messed up from day one on this earth. My
Mother gave me an evil name and that name has been a hex that has tainted and
muddied the stream of my destiny. My request is in four folds.
"Oga, e
fun mi ni ibukun to ma jomi loju, bless me indeed, so that people around me
will see the definite signs of the blessings! Give me large tracts of land to
manage. Please enlarge my boundaries beyond my present limitations so that I
can be confident in myself. Oga, empower me".
A few days
back, the Chairman had given him a book called the "Timeless pages"
where he read a story about an old seer who outran the chariot of a king when
he was enabled by a supernatural hand. The story was amazing especially when he
tried to imagine himself outrunning the MD's brand new Mercedes Benz. The story
was what influenced his next plea because he figured for him to gain the speed
that had eluded him his whole life; a propelling force was desperately needed.
"Sir,
please let your hand be with me. Give me your backing; put the weight of your
organization behind me. I see a lot of people who start climbing upward in this
business, only to have their lives cut short by hired assassins. In some other
instances, some are cut down by the sickle of sicknesses. Take evil away from
me so that it would not cause me grief. I need your protection desperately".
"Since you
have asked, you will receive. The thing is, a lot of people do not ask but
since you have, I will make your joy full and honour your request",
concluded the Chairman.
The supplicant
was sent for comprehensive training in real estate issues and made a marketer
to sell a few plots of land. While he was on his rounds one day, he met someone
who wanted to buy hectares of land. Coincidentally, he knew someone else who
had wanted to sell lots of land in the area specified by the buyer. The seller
trusted Ibanuje enough to do business because he had the backing of his former
Boss. He connected the businessmen and made some tidy sum from the commission
he received.
He used the
money to buy some real estate in an unpopular bushy area for a paltry sum and
in a few years, the place became hot because a lot of affluent people wanted to
own houses there. That area erupted into the exclusive residential estate known
as Eden City. The man known as sorrow therefore exploded into unimagined wealth
and euphoric joy!
The Chairman
also gave him some body guards to keep off Omo
Onile (real estate thugs) and opened a family card in one of the best
hospitals in town coupled with global health insurance.
Without saying,
his life took a fresh direction from there onwards. His family who had
ostracized him came looking for him. The forbidden stone became the
cornerstone. Everything changed for the better.
THE PRESENT
I got out of my
reverie smiling, thinking of the transformation my life had gone through and
that if it happened to me, it can happen to anybody. If they can locate and cry
out to the Chairman of Yeshua Global Resources, enlargement is quite possible……
And Jabez was more honorable than his brothers: and his mother called his name Jabez, saying, Because I bore him with sorrow.Jabez cried out to the God of Israel, "Oh, that you
would bless me and enlarge my territory! Let your hand be with me, and keep me
from harm so that I will be free from pain." And God granted his
request."
© 2013 Ekpo Ezechinyere
Creative manner of telling the Jabez story in a relevant, Nigerian context! Nice angle.
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