But seriously, I’m a survivor.
I look back at Tunde’s story with nostalgia, because, I was this 👌🏾 close to death.
I’d have ended up like him on the 13th of January, 2015.
Ibe Nnoke, the then Registrar of Hugh Goldie Lay/Theological Training Institution Arochukwu, where I was lecturing, had just ordered me to give him the keys to my house or suffer terrible consequences if he takes up my marriage issues to the higher courts.
My Ex then had been away since the 11th of December, 2014, and besides an SMS saying she’d gone, and that I should take care, I had no other information as to why she left.
I didn’t want the drama. So, after waiting till the 22nd of December, I changed my locks and traveled home for Christmas. I’d made up my mind that enough was enough as I needed to know where we stood, if she ever returned.
Well, when the school resumed for the New Year, she had to return to work, as she was also a staff of the institution.
Her story was that I locked her out of her house, even though that was my first time of seeing her in one month.
When Nnoke called me to his office and told me what she said, I quickly challenged his position, stating that she left on her own, and I only was waiting for her to return officially, not as a thief who sneaks back home after running off every weekend to her mom’s house.
Dude didn’t buy it. He didn’t even give me a chance to explain further, and as my senior, I only feared the worst since he already told me a committee has been set up on the matter.
Had they ever called me?
Have they called us?
How could a fellow man be so wicked and heartless?
Well, I knew I had to obey.
After all, as a clergyman, who was trained under some of the strictest conditions, disobedience came with a price.
So, I helplessly handed over the keys, and left for Aba.
Jenny Smith and some of our friends from Scotland were paying us a visit, and I was to deliver some wares I’d picked up from the village, which we needed for dinner.
I got into my car, took a deep breath, and began my journey to Aba. The road from Arochukwu to Ohafia has always been a death trap, so much so that we’re told there’s no road to Arochukwu that’s easy.
Well, after driving through the bad road for a little over 45 minutes, I’d gotten to an Army Checkpoint at Isiugwu Ohafia. But that was the last thing I remembered as I fell into a shock, only recounting the following as I was told.
My car had run into the bush that was just before the checkpoint and the soldiers quickly rushed to the scene. They discovered I was unconscious, and began a rescue mission.
Luckily, I didn’t have my central lock on, and my phone had no passwords. They got me out, scrolled through my phone and made a few calls.
I was first rushed to a hospital at Ohafia and following my Dad’s instructions, I was transfered to Aba.
On getting to Aba, I was having seizures, and to calm me down, a nurse had to inject me, and mistakenly hurt a nerve, which practically paralyzed my left leg.
Well, I woke up few hours later, grateful to be alive. While I was successful in regaining my leg few weeks later, I was unsuccessful with my marriage, and we’re now divorced.
My 45 minutes drive from Arochukwu is an example of Tunde’s 3 year shock. Our hearts can only take so much, and if we care less about our experiences, sweeping everything under the carpet and barely discussing them, we’ll most likely hurt ourselves, in minutes, hours, days, weeks or even years to come.
I feel that above all qualities of a good life is the courage to share our experiences. It’s a priceless gift, one that’s Irreplaceable.
Men have to learn to express themselves, and we should provide the much needed social support for doing so.
It wasn’t until I had a 12 week therapy while in the UK that I understood the depths of my pains, and after those sessions, I found the courage to live a new life, for which I’ve had no regrets.
I share my stories with you all, not to rekindle a certain fire, but to clearly show you how bad it can get.
Stop joking with those silent thoughts that boggle your mind. Take out the time and process them, and if need be, get some professional help.
I knew I was hurt so badly, not just from my marriage, but from an institution who cared less about me.
Yet, I also realized that the choice to live was ENTIRELY mine, and no matter what I’d been through, where I was at the moment, was entirely my decision.
Right now, the choice to live is yours, and your heart can only take so much. If you love it, don’t stress it. Breathe in and enjoy the moment, knowing that if you consciously LIVE and PREPARE for it, the best is certainly yet to come.