A year today, I fell into a ditch in Abuja while walking. A ditch so deep that when I got on my feet I could only see the feet of passersby – it was that deep.
Though tribe and tongue differ, fellow Nigerians, in the main, Keke drivers, jumped in and pulled me out, ensured all my belongings were found and handed back to me: this phone, ATM card, pen, notebook, money, slippers, the frame of my broken glasses. This gesture entailed trips to the ditch to find anything I declared missing.
What a show of humaneness coupled with their questions about if I was well enough to continue my journey. I thank these first responders.
Even after I left a pharmacy where I had first aid treatment, I was unaware of the extent of the challenge ahead. Pains engaged in an intense competition in a race that granted me measured breathing with increasing difficulty.
My hand was dropping. Every breathe appeared a contest to pull it up which the hand’s heaviness resisted.
A few calls and messages unlocked and directed the immensity of humanity’s expansive goodness in my direction.
Sprouts of kindnesses flowed from many of you who insist you would be embarrassed if I mentioned your names. I respect your wishes. You were my angels.
These kindnesses made it possible for me to get the best medical care available within hours. A particular friend insisted that I should be taken to where I can get the best medical attention. He saw to it.
Cares, concerns, and more contributions from more sources sustained my months of post-surgical regime of medications, physiotherapy, and reviews.
I am grateful.
My right shoulder on which I fell, shattered. The impact of the fall also broke the elbow in two. The side of my face that brushed the ditch and mediated the fall was swollen and seemed beyond redemption.
The shoulder was neatly pieced together in hospital. I wear an implant to keep the elbow in place. I was writing with the hand within weeks and lifting a few things gingerly. The face was back to normal but it distorts my smile, so I smile less.
Physiotherapy and other exercises have helped the healing. I still avoid the vigorous handshakes that once delighted one. In some instances I offer the left hand with an apology.
I share these images not to elicit sympathy but to help you understand how inadequate my gratitude is. They are a mere glimpse of what happened.
The Almighty never left my side. The ditch was neat, without a thing that could have pierced vital organs or complicated the injuries.
Medical experts at the hospital after series of full body scans could not believe there were no other injuries. It could have been worse.
When my daughter, Chidalu, called and asked about my legs, I knew that I truly escaped more frightening circumstances.
I have since realised that the Almighty is kind to me, always. How many times have I passed places without accidents?
My gratitude to the Almighty who knows more than I dare imagine or even ask for. He sustained me and mine through the trial. He flooded you with the kindnesses you stretched to me.
I am grateful. Please celebrate with me.
May the Almighty be kind to you, always
PS: Something fell this morning, my phone – which already had the script and pictures for this piece – into a full bucket of water. Perhaps, it is its way of marking this day of gratitude. It’s the same phone with which I concluded the piece. I dried it (didn’t open it) covered it with uncooked rice, as I once read somewhere, pulled it out after an hour, and it has been working.
The Almighty approved this thanksgiving.
Isiguzo, an accomplished Journalist and Columnist, is a major commentator on minor issues
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