Lasun Alagbe
Some people are exploiting the idleness created by the coronavirus lockdown in different ways. Consider the case of MTN’s Senior Manager, External Relations, Funso Aina. For him, it is a time to, among other things, recount a day he cheated death.
It was a terrible accident, and it is his ‘reunion’ with the picture of the deadly wreckage his car became that sparked the reminiscences. Here is how the man who had worked with Tempo magazine, The Punch and the British Council, before joining MTN, puts it in news-behind-the-news style on Facebook:
So, with the additional 2 weeks of staying at home, I decided to go through some old photos today (haven’t done that since forever), then stumbled on this pic, and I remembered the incident like it was yesterday…
29 years ago… It was a day the hounds of hell were baying for blood; it was also a day that the angels of heaven were on high alert.
Destination: Koro, my home town in Kwara State; objective: to conduct field interviews for my B.A. (History) dissertation.
Yours truly was at the wheel; JP sat with me in front; KSA’s ‘Eri Okan’ was blaring from the car’s Blaukpunt speakers (loved those speakers like ‘kilode,’ surely, they don’t make ’em like that anymore). But sorry, I digress.
We had just passed the Shagamu interchange on the Lagos-Ibadan expressway. Must have been on 100 or 120km/ph (JP had decreed ab initio that there was no exceeding 100). Suddenly one of the tyres exploded! I struggled frantically with the wheel, must have sub-consciously applied the brakes. Next thing I knew, the car started somersaulting until it finally landed in a ravine. The gorge was so deep that standing by the road side, you would actually lean forward to see the foliage of even palm trees down below.
Thank God we used our seat belts, if not we might have been thrown out of the car and probably mangled in the process. This is instructive because this was an era when there was no compulsory seat belt enforcement. As a matter of fact, I cannot count the number of times we had travelled outside Lagos without wearing seat belts. But somehow that day was different.
Anyway, back to my story…
Other drivers coming behind who saw me struggling with the car had parked, peeping at the wreckage in the ravine several meters down below. Thank God there was no explosion. Someone found a thick rope, tied it to the hub of one of the vehicles and two men came down to see if any rescue was necessary. From the look on their faces they could not believe that anyone could have survived something like that. But we were alive albeit with minor skin abrasions. The rescuers combusted with joy as they helped us up the rope.
Looking down, still a bit dazed, I saw that the car was a total smash, even the engine block had snapped into two. I closed my eyes in prayers thanking God for the miracle. There and then, I reflected on the ephemerality of life. I remembered G.B. Shaw’s famous paradox – ‘Life is a tragedy full of joy.’ Indeed, for us, we were joyful that we survived what would have been a family tragedy. Or how shall it be told that father and son perished in a car crash? Only God could have been so benevolent, and for that we would be forever grateful.
They took us to a hospital in Shagamu just to be sure that there were no internal injuries. There were none. By nightfall same day, we were back home in Lagos.
The following day when JP went to the crash site with a towing vehicle to salvage the wreckage, he met some local hunters who told him that the ravine area was a notorious spot for accidents. They said they had never heard of anyone surviving a crash there, not to talk of actually meeting a survivor.
To God be the glory. Always. — in Lagos, Nigeria
