THE SWIMMER GIRL MAKES NEWS AGAIN

Adriel, I am beginning to think that someone is deliberately keeping the story alive. In the Guardian newspaper, last Saturday’s edition, the story was there again. But this time it was about heroism, that despite the fact that there were not many young heroes in the country, there were still some to emulate, in terms of bravery, grace, and patriotism. I like the piece though.

It earmarks the reasons I stand my ground by not revealing my identity. I did not do it for the money.
I did not do it because I wanted fame.
I did not do it to be noticed.
I did it…. I just acted out of compassion.

Between you and me, I didn’t even know that I could swim that well, and under such pressure. It should be God taking the glory, not me. Even if I accepted the gift and gave it to charity, I would have exposed myself and my family to God – knows – what.

Anyway, life goes on. I actually checked the story according to CNN, and I found out that I was described as a local girl. That irked me a bit. I got the full names of the boys anyway, and tried google with that. As an aside, its funny how we create words from nonsensical words that have no meaning, and it catches on everywhere, like how the word ‘google’ has become a common word. We even use it as a verb – googling, or googled. Right now my word processing software still puts a red wriggly line under the words, but I expect that the latest versions will reflect the new words pretty soon.

According to the articles I got from google, the boys are doing fine. I am glad about that, because I didn’t want it to be a case of ‘Final Destination 4’, where every body would still die, if you know what I mean. You might wonder why I checked up, well I had an accident this morning.

Well, almost. You see, I was riding an okada to get to church on time and the …er….okada driver must have felt omnipotent, because he went speeding to overtake a gigantic petrol tanker. I mean, picture a small Suzuki motorbike, versus a huge 33000litre petrol tanker. I was just shouting ‘Blood of Jesus’, and pinching the driver to slow down, but he was behaving as if he had no sensory neuron in his skin. Eventually the tanker had had enough, but instead of speeding off, or even letting the bike pass, he decided to force us to the side of the road. By this time I was shouting on the guy to stop moving.

When he finally stopped, I jumped off and began thanking God for saving my life. I could barely walk, but I was alive. The tanker driver and an Army man came down from the tanker and came towards the bike. If it was possible to disappear right then like Mr. Claypole in Rent-a-ghost, I would have squeezed my nose hard upon sighting the Army officer’s boots – not the total him o, just his boots. But I remained where I was, all thoughts of getting to church forgotten.

You should have seen how they beat this guy up. I mean, he must have had it coming, because the tanker driver said he knew the guy. I had to wait so I could at least pay the guy for the halfway journey, but I could not stand there and stare. On the other hand, if I plead for him, God knows what the Army official would say or do. After swallowing my spit for the fourth time, I just shouted at them all – plus the crowd that had gathered.

“Its enough! The guy don learn his lesson! Haba! E no go fit waka from hia now!”
That got their attention. The Army official stopped pounding the guy and stood straight. I used the opportunity to press the fare into the guy’s hands, and give him advice.
“Next time you will have the patience to WAIT.”

It was a miracle that I walked off unharmed – as I was leaving, the customary mob by other motorbike drivers was just arriving. The tanker driver and his friend also took it as a good time to go.

So, you see, I got to church late, and attended third service instead, but it was worth it, because I danced and danced during praise worship, in gratitude for saving my life and my legs – I cannot describe the ward that has been created for okada accidents in Igbobi Hospital to you – its really terrible. The mere thought of the place brings to mind the vivid picture of several desolate men with one and a half limbs all staring into space in grief.


I just had to make sure it was not life imitating art, that those boys were okay.
Thank God they are.