THE REWARD OF MERCY

On the shoreline of the Atlantic Ocean in Nigeria stood one of the most exquisite holiday resorts on earth, built by the Chairman of the Board of Directors of the company I worked for. It served as a retreat for the chairman, directors and senior staff of the company. It was a place where dreams could come alive. From the windows of this edifice, one could gaze upon the vast expanse of the ocean, watching ships sail gracefully through the water. A garden of beauty adorned the view, with peacocks and other birds serenading the surroundings.

It was so beautiful that one day Eke, my friend, joked, “As a very peaceful man, this place is all I have ever wanted in life. Beautiful sights, amazing breeze and a fascinating garden. The only thing I would want added to this picture would be the sight of Udoh hanging from one of those trees in the garden. I would forgive him for his crimes against humanity and offer fervent prayers for the repose of his soul. Then I would give him a decent burial in the ocean like it was done to Osama.”

I had been witnessing to Eke and trying to get him to forgive the saddist, Udoh, the company’s acclaimed villain who seemed to thrive in, and loved, mischief and wickedness. But I digress.

The Chairman's wife tragically succumbed to stroke during a holiday at this very resort, leading him to decide to sell the property. The memories of that fateful day haunted him, overshadowing the beauty of the place. The company made the decision to auction the resort to its senior staff, and by some twist of fate, I emerged as the successful bidder. The auctioneer, Udoh, mentioned earlier as the personification of evil, was the one who oversaw the proceedings.

Udoh gave me a two-week deadline to make the payment. With a wry smile and mischief in his eyes, he smiled and warned me that even if I were to bring the money a minute after 4 pm on the final day, he would reopen the auction or sell it to his wife who was the next person in line. Udoh never made an idle threat, and I knew I could take what he said to the bank.

The issue of the payment had already taken a toll on my marriage. Although we had the funds, I had loaned a substantial portion of it to Eke, whose wife was diagnosed with a brain tumor and needed treatment in Germany. Eke had promised to repay the loan within a week, expecting money from the sale of his house. But he was unable to sell the house. And I couldn't bring myself to ask him for the money; his wife's condition was still critical.

My wife, Millie, had warned me against lending the money to Eke. Now, with the possibility of losing the property, she incessantly nagged and berated me for sacrificing our happiness for someone else's sake. Yet, I implored her to let it be, occasionally singing that old song, "There is a little song that I wrote, I will sing it now note for note, don't worry, be happy." But the humor was lost on her, and she would either storm off in frustration or curse me.

Finally, help arrived on a bright afternoon, just hours before the deadline. Millie’s brother, Koko, called me and informed me that Millie had discussed our situation with him, and he was willing to lend us the money. The money came with just a couple of hours before the 4.00p.m. deadline. Grateful for this lifeline, we hurriedly set out, confident that we had ample time and a clear road ahead.

As I drove, my foot heavy on the accelerator, a red sports car whizzed past us as if we were motionless. Moments later, we witnessed a chilling sight. The sports car was hurtling towards a stationary truck, with another truck approaching from the opposite direction. In a state of abject horror, we watched as the driver slammed on the brakes, causing the car to skid violently and collide with the stationary truck in a deafening thud. Petrol spilled onto the road as the driver stumbled out of the wreckage, bloodied and disoriented. He took a few unsteady steps before collapsing onto the asphalt.

Without hesitation, I slammed on the brakes and rushed out of the car, ignoring Millie's pleas for us to continue and not miss our appointment. My heart always guided me, often to the detriment of rationality. It was the reason I had lent our savings to Eke and why I would forever be considered a fool. Anticipating an imminent explosion, I knew I had to move the injured man away from the wreckage. I hoisted him onto my back, and ran. Seconds later, a fierce fire engulfed the spot where he had lain, confirming my fears. I continued on, expecting the explosion that was sure to follow. It came as the tanker exploded.

I placed him gently in our car, only to be met with a slap from Millie. "Idiot, what are you doing?" she exclaimed.

"We must save his life," I replied.

Her eyes bulged with disbelief, as if threatening to detach from their sockets. She began to implore me with a sense of urgency and reason. We found ourselves in an unfamiliar situation, faced with a stranger whose fate hung in the balance. Was he a mere drunkard, deserving of his predicament? Or perhaps a fugitive, evading the clutches of justice? The weight of the decision bore down upon me, tempting me to abandon him to his fate, hoping that someone else would come to his rescue.

But I knew what I had to do. Slowly, I climbed into the car, shifting it into gear, ready to head towards the nearest hospital. Millie slapped me again, her hand grazing my cheek, and seized the steering wheel, her voice trembling with desperation, "Stop! Stop!! Let’s go and pay for the house, please.”

“What about him?”

“Drop him!”

“No, he will die.”

She flung open the door and stormed out, leaving me with a tumult of emotions. Tears welled up in my eyes as I gazed at the bloodied figure lying motionless on the backseat of my car. What if it was my son? By the way, was he not someone’s son? His life was hanging by a thread. I knew that I could not abandon him to his fate. I was not wired that way. A man has got to do what he has got to do. A man has got to do all the good he can do - where ever and however.

"Our marriage ends here and now!" Millie screamed, her words echoing in the air as she disappeared into the distance, walking briskly and trying to flag down a cab.

I resolved to transport the injured stranger to the hospital, despite the dwindling hope of making it to the office in time. The journey to the hospital was fraught with delays, the medical staff seemingly oblivious to the urgency of the situation. Time slipped away, and as I glanced at my watch, the realization struck me—it was four o'clock already.

To condense this tale of woe, I eventually arrived at the office, forty-five minutes past the designated hour. Udoh met me with a somber expression, delivering the news that I had lost the house. Imploring him to understand the gravity of the situation, I recounted the accident, hoping that he would show some compassion. Yet, his response was callous, asserting that I was a fool to sacrifice my future for a stranger. According to his calculations, a man who allowed a stranger's fate to dictate his own deserved no sympathy. "Why would you let the condition of a stranger determine your destiny?" he taunted.

With a heavy heart and tears still lingering in my eyes, I drove home. As I approached the familiar abode, a sense of apprehension washed over me. I rang the doorbell, but there was no answer. I reached for my key and cautiously opened the door, only to be greeted by a scene of desolation.

Millie was gone. Not a trace of her remained within the walls that once harbored our shared existence. Panic surged through my veins as I hurriedly searched the house. She was gone! The wardrobe was almost empty. Her room, almost barren. It felt as though a tempest had swept through, leaving behind only the remnants of a shattered life. A throbbing headache followed by a sharp pain in my chest. Darkness enveloped my consciousness, and that was the last thing I remembered.

Awakening in the sterile confines of a hospital, I found myself confronted by the gaze of a nurse peering down upon me. Confusion clouded my mind as I struggled to make sense of my surroundings. "Why am I here? How did I end up in this place?" I queried.

"You will be alright," she reassured, motioning to someone nearby. "He's regained consciousness."

A familiar face materialized before me—my neighbor, a young woman who had endured the loss of her husband two years prior. She recounted the events that transpired, revealing that she had witnessed my wife's departure with a truck, laden with her belongings. Millie had been deeply distressed, declaring that our marriage was over. My neighbor had anxiously awaited my return, only to discover me in a comatose state, prompting her to rush me to the hospital.

Hardly had she finished relaying the tale when Millie herself appeared, her expression etched with concern. "I heard you were found unconscious and came to find out what happened," she uttered. "You couldn't even manage a single day without me."

I merely stared at her. What was she doing here?

"Very well, my beloved fool, I apologize. Please recover and let us return home," she murmured, stooping to bestow a kiss upon me. "I have been a wretched and foolish creature. Upon arriving home, my parents threatened to disown me should I fail to return. They acknowledged your wisdom and good heartedness in saving a life, and accused me of disgracing them and all of humanity. I was treated as an outcast. I returned with regret, only to discover upon my return that you had halted at Chapter One, without waiting for the unfolding of Chapter Two in our love story. House or no house, you are mine."

I smiled and gently clasped her hand, “I forgive you. Guess it was satan.”

Leaving the hospital, we relinquished thoughts of the house. I refunded the money to Koko, expressing gratitude for his kind gesture. The matter remained unspoken within the company, and my relationship with Udoh remained intact. In times of peace and war, fairness prevailed. Millie no longer uttered a word of the house.

Two weeks after losing the house, news arrived that the company intended to streamline its staff. The process commenced the following week, wherein one would be summoned to the Managing Director's office to receive a letter of dismissal. Then they came for me and I telephoned Millie, "They have come for me." She advised me to face it with fortitude, assuring me that divine intervention would guide my path.

The Managing Director, Mamood Dakota, stood tall and lean, wearing a genial expression that bespoke his late fifties. As I entered his office, he rose from his chair and extended his hand in greeting. "How are you faring, bro?"

“Sir, l was faring excellently until I got you summon.” I replied with composure, noting the curious manner in which employees were discharged. First, one was made to feel significant, only to be cast aside.

He smiled and peered at me over his spectacles, as if studying me intently, and then spoke, "The Chairman of the Board awaits you in the Board Room. Let us proceed."

Bewilderment enveloped me. I trailed behind him into the expansive office of the chairman. John Okon, the Board Chairman, possessed a lean figure and a kind countenance. He stood among the most reticent individuals. Completely bald, he devoutly adhered to his Christian faith.

He gestured for me to take a seat before him. "Are you Mr. Michael John?"

I nodded in affirmation.

"I understand that you tendered a bid for my holiday retreat, only to lose the bid because of time."

Once again, I nodded. “Sir, I thank God for everything.”

From his drawer, he extracted an envelope and thrust it toward me. "The documents and keys are within. The resort is now yours."

Yet, I refrained from accepting the envelope. "I regret to inform you, Sir, that I no longer possess the means to acquire it. I borrowed the necessary funds from my brother-in-law, but when I failed to meet the deadline, I returned the sum to him. Nevertheless, I express my gratitude."

In response, he sprang from his seat, encircling me in an embrace. Tears welled in his eyes as he spoke, "Son, there is no need for you to make payment. You have already done so through your valiant act of saving my grandson's life in that dreadful motor accident. I flew him to America and he is doing quite well now. You pay nothing.”

I expressed my heartfelt appreciation, too stunned for extensive words. While making my way to the office, my phone rang. Millie sought to uncover the outcome. I informed her of my preference to disclose the news in person by coming home immediately. Being a pessimist, she had already instructed Koko to search for another job for me. Then she began to sing, There is a little song that I wrote…” I laughed and terminated the call.

Upon reaching home, I presented her with the envelope, announcing that the house was now ours, after all. She gazed at me, inquiring as to the means by which this transpired. I explained that the boy whose life we had saved happened to be the Chairman's grandson. Overwhelmed, she succumbed to tears.

I returned to the office to meet Udoh waiting for me. He disclosed his job termination, attributing it to his handling of the auction, and blamed me for his dismissal. The chairman believed he should have been more concerned about human life than the house. I responded, "Did you once tell me that a man lacking proper priorities does not warrant any pity?"