Some things happen in a man’s life and one could only ponder, wonder and relinquish the success or changes to supernatural and miraculous influence. It is never easy to undergo some accidental or fatal changes and remain the same after without trauma. This is exactly an example of what I want to share today as I have the internal conviction that the recovery was marvelous, supernatural and miraculous. I could only ascribe my recovery and back to normal safety to sheer miracle. Not even human being with the likes of quality doctors nor the sophisticated medical equipment that could restore my wholesomeness.
It all happened on this particular day, 21st May, 2010. I was in 200level at the Olabisi Onabanjo Univeristy, Ago Iwoye, Ogun State, studying English. I was in enamoured of the field so much because of my desire to become a poet and a literary artist and for that, I was known hither and thither by many lecturers as I engaged them in difficult but exhilarating questions in order to thaw my ignorance. For that, everybody in my class tagged me “lecturers’ sparring partner”. I bore the name with ease and I was undaunted with their threats. This was my forte and I would not be brow-beaten by their acts, I told myself. On this particular day, I dressed up to meander my way to the school as always for an early lecture, little did I know that it will mark the beginning of a tortuous journey which would seem interminable. And due to the nature of where I stayed (very far from the citadel), it behooved me to take 3 buses before I got to campus. Shuttling from school to our houses as students was commonplace as there were no hostel on campus. That means that everyone had to find his way to the campus. However, due to the kind of politics played in Nigeria and the politicization of everything by politicians even to the minutest of essentials which the commoners require, our lives on the non-motorable road was at their whims and caprices. We had no choice as it had been like that ever since. I boarded the first cab and alighted hoping to board the second before getting to the campus. I sat at the front very close to the driver.
Enroute, my heart raced over everything I had premeditated for the day-the books I needed to devour inside the library, the topics I needed to ask the lecturers to widen my horizon and sundry things. Unwittingly, my consciousness was averted to the frantic application of the brake by the driver but I turned a blind eye to it thinking that perhaps the driver had discovered a fault but should be able to convey us down to the campus. The driver applied the brake again but it wasn’t gripped instantly; the car was in a free flow.
The road leading to the campus had a bridge which could only accommodate just a car at a time. The bridge was so narrow such that it would require the oncoming vehicle to stop for other vehicles to trudge past. However, every side was wide; a gully filled with water but very steep. On this day, there was a massive traffic jam on the small road. When we almost got there and seeing the traffic ahead of us, the driver tried frenetically applying the brake but to no avail. Adrenaline shot up and there were hues and cries from the back of the car. Shout rented the air as people by the sidewalk started shouting in apprehension. There and then, I thought the end had come. I was almost unconscious even before we went head-long into the ditch. That was the last thing I knew. That was the end. I was oblivious of everything around me. I could not even fathom anything. The last thing I heard was just a strong thud and total blackout followed.
In between the time I was unconscious and the time I regained my consciousness, a lot had happened. It could only be imagined actually. When my consciousness was regained, I saw myself on the hospital bed with injuries of great magnitude; splitting headache, legs hung, faces bandaged and water infused into my body. I knew I was alive but I could not talk neither could I move. I could see people moving around me, I could see crest-fallen faces, faces with patches of cry, and my mother had cried herself out; her face hollow and her figure gaunt. After sometime, I could speak faintly; I could move my body muscles and the sadness were lighted up from their faces. That marks the beginning of mental and physical recovery for me.
My friends and family were highly elated seeing me talking even though I remained immobile on the hospital bed; the body was motionless and I could not even wriggle my body. I could speak but only faintly and all seems lost around me. My friends told me that it was a narrow escape as many people inside the bus died. All these and more were said after the consciousness had been rapid. It was a fatal accident and despite that, the government had not done anything to this road. That is the nature of government we have as they try to use those projects as tools for electioneering.
The road to recovery was really enervating, difficult and demoralizing. It was terrible. It was challenging. It was sapping. The legs took more than five months before it healed up. I was on the hospital bed for a longer time as there was no hope of recovery. The doctor said that it would take more than miracle for the legs to be healed completely. I was dejected as I thought that my awesome gait with a commensurate handsomeness would just be gone in a jiffy. A consciousness swelled up within me about the momentariness of life and how life could be lost without a twinkle of an eye. I was in total despair. The road was tedious and daunting. I had to learn the process of walking again. It was very difficult; on the wheelchair, later on crutches before the tottering and tentative steps of walking again. The journey was an edifying one for me as I had to learn a bulk of new things. The injury took time to learn with endless frequenting of the hospital with the dressing of the wounds. It was an endless but reoccurring feat.
I learnt to walk again. The bruises and the deep scars were healed. There and then, I knew that it was a supernatural recovery. No man could embark on such healing. The legs were straightened and it was if that nothing ever happened there. When the doctors who treated the legs saw it after a long time with my swagger back with a bang, they were astounded.
The accident was a horrible experience which I don’t pray for anyone to have or encounter throughout their lives. Accidents mangle, deform, disorientate and the scars are always perennial. It is a pity that one could undergo such ordeal and the government who are at the apogee of governance does not deem it fit to change the status quo.
I specially thank 
Thank you for stopping by to read my harrowing ordeal. I hope it worth the minutes taken off your schedule.
