Our paths never crossed. I am not sure it ever will. He is the son of the current tenant of the house on the 'rock'. A couple of days ago, the media was inundated with the story of the birthday celebration of the former. It was a good occasion for the 'body of Christ' to display and show exactly who is in and what is' power.
Thus, the event was marked by the familiar and the patently unfamiliar. A million copies of the bible were said to have been prepared for distribution in our country to serve as libation with which the secular on the occasion could become preternatural. As far as the celebrants were concerned, what mattered was that which was counted. The years, not the months, not the days, not the weeks, not the hours. On such occasions, what always matters is not the uncountable, the unknowable.
In other words, on such occasions, the Almighty is always remembered for His favours, not His injunctions. On such occasions, what always mattered was the merry-making, not the contemplation of the unknowable schemes and plans of the Unseen power who works wonders in the ants and hides from His creatures the imminence of their day of reckoning!
Again, our paths never crossed before; though he had traversed the world between the two seas. I did not know him personally, though I had been privileged to know some of those who are close to him. He is a friend to the high and the mighty. He was a confidant to the emperor, the only idol that bestrode the political landscape of Nigeria during the Third Republic.
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Brethren, destiny took me to the event, to the birthday ceremony. Before that day, I had always held an extremely unpopular opinion of birthdays. Unpopular because I see birthdays as death days. I see birthdays as days that remind me of the reduction in the number of days left for me to live on earth. I ponder my birthdays as solemn days in which I should undertake some self-probations and some self-inquisitions. If I have been destined to live up to ninety years on earth, of what value would my merriment be on my fortieth birthday, since I have fifty years left on earth? To what use have I put those passages: the passage of time, of age, of life? Such has been and still is my posture regarding birthdays before I arrived at the venue of the event.
In my usual style, I entered the hall of the event incognito, unobtrusively. I always prefer to remain like a dot in the diagram, a face in the crowd. Not long thereafter, the birthday celebrant was ushered into the venue in the company of hundreds of well-wishers. There was no way I could still identify him in the multitude. Soon, the event got underway. Soon, the celebrant was asked to rise and dance to the music being played in his honour. The hall rose in adoration when the celebrant began to dance as if he were still in his twenties. It was at that moment that the first motivation for this essay was birthed- to dance at eighty and energetically too is to be in full control of one's psychomotor, to feel strong at heart. Then, I remembered many others of the same age bracket who have become completely senile. I remember many others of that age bracket, and even less who have become burdens on life simply because their body has no use for life anymore. I was seized by the fact that there are some people out there who would continue to enjoy divine providence until their "account" on earth is fully exhausted. I remembered that no soul would be given its 'boarding pass' to heaven unless and until its account on terrestrial earth is completely empty.
But the question became urgent: What is the secret behind this old man's healthy life? I asked myself: "How can I also become an octogenarian and still have the vigour to 'kick' and 'suck' life the way this man does?"
Eventually, I was asked to come over to the centre of the hall. Eventually, we met face to face. Eventually, the young met the old; the octogenarian came face to face with the subject at the middle road of life. There, I saw a face with no wrinkles. I beheld a physique which suffered no bent or diminution. Then I remembered those days; days when people of his age would tie new nuptial knots; days when our forefathers usually found new use for 'the engine' of life. I therefore contemplated Alhaji's mien more closely. I wanted to chance upon the figure 'eighty' but could not find it. What I found was a personality that appeared to have succeeded in getting all the equations right. In line with the Quran, he appeared to have refrained from upsetting the scale of life in line with the injunction in Surah al-Rahman. (Quran55: 8)
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Not done with teasing lessons of life from his fountain of wisdom, I asked him about the secret of his healthy living. His response was highly instructive. He bid alcoholic consumption bye over four decades ago in obeisance to the will of the Almighty. His food regimen is equally one to emulate. He is in the habit of taking oats or pap in the morning, something 'solid' in the afternoon, and only fruits in the evening. His pleasure lies in making people happy; in extending hands of succour to those in dire situations. If indeed you desire to know just how many people would miss you on your death day, watch out for those who turn up at your birthday celebration.
