He Saved Me

The date on the calendar on my wall read Friday November 11, 1993.
The day started like any other. Well maybe not like any other because I felt that life was very good to me. I did not walk I bounced along the street, feeling ten feet taller.
It was easy to understand why I felt so happy. Here was I, a fresh graduate from the University of Nigeria, about to conclude my one year compulsory paramilitary service and with two interviews scheduled for the next day. In a country where unemployment is so high, where people wait for years just to be called for interviews, one must be thankful for such mercies. They are rare.
That day was to mark the end of our compulsory one years national service to our ‘fatherland’. The highlight of the day was the passing out parade followed by the presentation of certificates to all those who had the good fortune to survive one year of being away from loved ones often working for peanuts. I could not wait for the passing out parade and by the time I received my certificate it was late evening.
I dashed out of the venue and headed for my apartment somewhere in the outskirt of Jos, Northern Nigeria. Mind you my bag was packed. I had spent the whole night looking forward to seeing my recently widowed mother and siblings and of course attending the interviews. .
The taxi that brought me to my apartment had strict instructions to return in half an hour to pick me up and ferry me to the Bus Station where I intended, that evening, to board a bus for Lagos, the commercial capital of Nigeria. Getting vehicles was usually difficult and I had made up my mind to charter the taxi can regardless of the amount.
More than an hour later and feeling very sore with the attitude of taxi drivers towards keeping appointment; I went, with a neighbour of mine, in search of another vehicle. I was hell bent on not missing my interviews the next day.
Then in the distance a taxi approached. ‘Thank God’ I muttered.
To my consternation however, after the taxi had dropped its passenger and we had negotiated the exorbitant fare he was charging me to the Bus Station, I got in but the stupid vehicle will just not start.
The driver was not amused at all ‘This has never happened before ’ he told me as he opened the bonnet of the old Peugeot 404 Saloon car. Unable to diagnose the problem and seeing that the time was quickly approaching six in the evening we decided to give the vehicle a good push. And so we did.
After a few minutes and heavy perspiration, the engine roared to life and we set off for the Bus Station.
As we arrived and I paid him off, I noticed that there were only two vehicles left leaving Jos from that station. One was a bus and the other a Peugeot 504 Station Wagon.
‘The bus is full’ I was told by the driver who was already collecting the fare from the passengers.
Very unhappily I headed for the station wagon. There were still two spaces left so I paid for a seat. That was however not before I had spent a few minutes exchanging pleasantries with fellow youth corp. members in the bus. I told them I had interviews in Lagos and had to leave that night.
‘In fact this bus had been practically vacant until a few minutes ago they told me’.
I cursed my luck, if only that driver had come on time, if only that other taxi had not broken down.
Mind you I was interested in following the bus because they were generally faster, cheaper and I had a lot of colleagues that we could have shared stories together.
I settled down to wait for the last passenger that would complete the station wagon.
A few minutes after I arrived, the bus left the station. About fifteen minutes later we left.
Somewhere in the night, at about 9.00pm, close to a village called Saminaka in Kaduna State of Nigeria, we turned a corner along the unlit and dark Jos-Kaduna road and there stood a sight that I will never forget in my life.
The bus that only a few hours ago contained colleagues, people with hopes and ambition stood burning in the middle of the highway. It had crashed headlong into a bus coming from the other direction. No one came out of the bus that night. They all burnt while seated. We could see them from where we were.
The driver of my vehicle just sat there, motionless unable to utter a word. Someone walked up to us; another driver coming from Kaduna and whispered to our driver to please go to the park as soon as he arrives in Kaduna to break the news to the other drivers.
The drive to Kaduna after that was pretty quiet because we all knew that we could have been on that bus.
I had no reason not to be on that bus. In fact I worked so hard to be on it but somewhere in heaven God simply looked down on me with grace and preserved my life. I have come to realize that life is precious and every day spent here is a gift worth sharing.
It is difficult to explain in simple words what I felt and still feel to this day.