WHO'S DRIVING? | "QUANTUM OF STRESS"

Perhaps it was the mattress because though it wasn’t written “waterbed” on it, it behaved in much the same way like one except that this one gave me so much body aches that I wonder why I would sleep on it a second time. The woozy feeling that characterizes going to bed tired and waking up tired seemed to be my lot as I dragged my bag, with a laptop that passes for a starter-kit for weight lifters, ready to go to work.

Navigating through the town from my home to my office had never been an issue but today, it seemed like I was traveling to one of those remote villages with dilapidated classrooms…to write JAMB! (If you’ve written that exam once or more, you’ll get the picture perfectly.) I tried to keep the strut in my steps as I walked to the street ahead to pick a cab. The walk was unusually long and I couldn’t help but think of how I would be able to do all the things lined up for the day. At the junction on any other day, I would keep walking till I got a cab or just pick a bus for all its worth but with my bag pack feeling like a ton of bricks, standing and walking both seemed like daunting tasks so I chose to just glide so as not to get the feeling of either alternative.

All the cabs appeared to be avoiding my street until this particular cab surfaced in the distance and my hand was out in a flash motioning for him to notice me first amongst the many others that were all along the street, way ahead of me. We both seemed determined because he sort of ignored the other people and headed straight for me. Now I think I understand why he did because on getting to where I was, the Golf Volkswagen car he was driving seemed to move further than where he wanted it to stop and before I got where he was, he was making the attempt to open the door as though he had seen me on TBN or CNN. I got to him and the look on his face had nervousness written all over it. I told him where I was headed and he said “oga, I just dey start this work, I no too sabi road”. Now, am quite sure that if I wasn’t feeling the way I had described earlier, I would have heard him clearly, especially those things he wasn’t saying and that I was about to find out.

I got into the cab and reached for the seat belt and we were to move when he asked me what direction he was to go and I said the same one he came from. His attempt to turn the car around sort of made me take back the instruction to go that direction and made clear to me the reason he had asked if there were any V.I.O’s (Vehicle Inspection Officer) on the route. I had told him I don’t usually look out to observe them because half the time, am reading something and only looking up once in a while. By now, I knew reading would not be an option this morning but to be sober and vigilant!

Clenching the steering wheel, changing the gear and looking up to see the road ahead as though he was replaying the process in his mind as was told him by his driving instructor, I knew this was a good time for me to get out of the car but my curiosity got the best of me and I wanted to see what would happen. I can’t die in a car accident so I knew being in the car was insurance for him because with the way he was sweating, without a license, he needed insurance!

The paint on the cab was quite fresh as I saw through the side mirror which suggested that he must have just acquired the car, got it painted for town taxi business and got the “taxi driver’s list of music cd’s for dummies” (which he was still acquiring by the way). The cars whirring past us were somewhat more intimidating now that I wasn’t sure the way this guy was feeling about it.

Getting to the expressway on the bridge before the Sheraton Hotel, a Toyota Camry car joining from the overhead bridge on my right hand side came in so fast that this guy pulled a stunt that caused him to bash into the car to our left. Seeing our car screeching, somersaulting and then bursting into flames, the normal outcome of events, played out in my mind in rapid succession but I knew none would happen. I then told him to pull over and motioned for the cars coming behind that we needed to stop. You can be sure that he got insulted from a car driver that was miles away and whose car wasn’t even the one hit. The owner of the bashed car came and parked in front of us and I told this very jittery driver to just calm down and sincerely beg the other driver because he was out rightly wrong in this case. He got out and before the car owner could make a “you don bash my car” accusation, this guy was on the ground prostrating and begging with such superfluity that you would think he killed someone. After about five or so minutes, the Alhaji and his colleague let this guy go mentioning to him that an apology would not repair the car.

We got to the office in one piece except that I was actually exhausted, “driving” from the passenger’s seat in front, with this guy that by this time looked like he could use a life jacket! I paid him his charge as we had agreed and he wanted me to manage the change he was giving me because he couldn’t find some few Nairas to complete the said amount. (Can you believe this guy?) Well, I told him if there was anyone to manage, it should be him. I think I’ve had my month’s share of managing this morning alone.

Reflecting on the incident, I now know that when we pray for patience or any other virtue, God doesn't just give us a potion with the label "patience" on it. Rather, He gives us opportunities to be patient and acquire the virtue. It reminded me that God sometimes sits in the car of our lives when we don’t have a clue as to where we’re going and like this driver, we should learn to just say “yes sir” and “ok sir” to our Instructor on the journey of life – the sweet Holy Spirit. With Him by our side, our car can take a bump once and again without casualties.

‘Bayor Emmanuel Martins

Heart Song

Lord I give you all the glory
That my life has no worry
In all my ways I see you there
No wonder I can't fear
In all of life's storms
My outcome negates the norms
So in all the devils threats
I will remain at rest
Because he who watches me
Doesn't slumber by day
Because he who watches me
Will never sleep at night
Also he said "what I began I will complete"
Therefore I know I will not be obsolete.

- © August 2000, Bayor Martins

Sun Talk

Early one weekday morning,
While many folks were still dreaming,
I took a look through a window at a vantage
And had time to see nature's divine heritage
I saw the trees and felt the breeze
Nature sang to its creator with so much ease
But then, one of its elements seemed to say

"In the beginning, God created the heavens and the earth
All of what you see was given birth,
We all are products of our maker's desire
We all and those of you who respire.
There were different days for each of our coming forth
Check the Book; you'll see I came on the fourth.
Now, though in your eyes I rise and set,
I am fixed at this point never to fret.
So, get the message I give to you
Use it and live your life anew.

There's a reason you can stare me in the face now
That's because it's not day but only dawn.
But I challenge you to give it a try
If your eyes won't get dry.
As you see, you'll understand why the scriptures didn't lie
That the path of the righteous is like a shining sun,
Which shines brighter and brighter till a perfect day is done.
Who then despises the day of little beginnings?
After all, the end of the matter is greater than the beginning.
Here I am, it is written of me in the scroll.
I have come to do my master's will.
Like a champion rejoicing to run his course
I rise at one end of the heaven and set in the other
The heat I radiate can't be denied either
Therefore, let your light shine before all men
That your works bring praise to heaven.
Why else do you think it is said also
That from the rising of the sun to the going down of the same
The name of the Lord is to be praised
Let your life be a reference point
Not one to which accusing fingers point.
Be diligent in the little you have now
When God sees this he will increase you every how…
I think I'll end it here, because I see you can no longer stare."

Then a voice spoke to me…
"what you have seen, write down as a poem
To as many that read it, same shall be blessed.
To him who has an ear, let him hear!"

- © 2002 by 'Bayor Martins

Jingle Bells

The bells are ringing; truly the sound has been tingling
From the days of old, the story started being told
Of an infant that would be born,
A savior through a virgin with no adorn.
Humbly and meekly he would come
To everyone who would welcome
He shall stand to feed his flock in the strength of the Lord.
In the majesty of the name of the Lord his God.
The bells are ringing,
the angels came singing
To shepherds in the fields watching their flocks by night
They saw a bright shining light that took them to the site
To see something that wasn't new,
but proved the saying to be true
That "unto us a child is born, and unto us a Son is given".
With the government being upon his shoulder,
The kingdom of Satan began to falter.
But the devil will stop at nothing
Because he was up to something.
Making the Savior die on the tree.
On the old rugged cross at Calvary.
To Satan, this was a victory,
But God proved it was a mystery.
Even death stood speechless,
When on the Savior, his sting was useless.
It was like in the times of Moses
When only the high priest entered the holies
And if the service was rightly done, he would still be moving.
But those outside knew he was dead when the bells stopped ringing
This High Priest entered into the holy place,
The hordes of hell saw his face
Behold, the people are singing
He's alive because the bells are ringing.
The bells are ringing, they are ringing loud and clear.
Proclaiming that his coming back is near.
All of creation longs to see
When the time of his return would be.
Let him who is holy be holy still
Let him who is righteous be righteous still
For behold I come quickly with my reward with me
To give to everyone as his works shall be
Brethren in Christ, where do you stand?
To the right or the left, which side of his hands?
The sound of the bell that will soon be heard
Is the trumpet call to rise up the dead.
This is the time to make things right.
This is the day, it'll soon be night
The bells are ringing…ringing…. RINGING.

- © 23rd December 2001 by 'Bayor Martins.

A TURN AROUND

I had done so many wrongs,
I wasn't home for so long.
I squandered all that I had,
I wasn't a very responsible lad.
One day I came to my senses,
All at once, I saw my lapses.
They had robbed me of my position,
When I took my decision
I now wanted to retrace my steps back,
But all was gloomy and dark.
I struggled with the darkness of doubt,
As I decided to make a turn around
I headed home in shame and despair.
I had treated my loved ones badly, so unfair.
But to my surprise, as I got home,
I saw my father saying "welcome".
I begged to be his servant or slave,
A new robe, a fat calf and a party was what he gave.
He then turned to me and said
"Though you were gone for so long,
My heart was with you all along"

- Copyright © 2005 'Bayor Martins

TIME

I walked into a clock sellers shop,

And indeed it was a stop

To the feeling of all elements

And a start to Selah moments

I looked closely if I could find

A wall clock that spoke my mind.

None could I see but this I know,

They all had something different to show.

Some said a quarter to eight

Is what makes the others late.

Others said "it's 10'o clock in the morning,

Why should people still be snoring?"

"Well…" answered several others

"We say it's 12'midnight and no one bothers!"

I watched in wonder as they all talked,

It was quite amazing to hear their tick-tock.

I stood for what seemed like eternity

As though being thrown into uncertainty

Of knowing who to believe in

Since no one seemed to be lying.

Then it dawned on me there as I stood,

That there was something else I could do.

To look round for a particular one,

In whose direction no one would turn.

Old, dusty and quite well on in years,

All the other clocks were not his peers.

Covered with webs, as though in tears,

I could hear him say "cast on me your cares,

I am the way, I speak the truth,

Unlike these other ones still in their youth.

You see, they don't speak the truth as people say

Because actually, they are right just twice a day.

But from generation to generation, come what may,

I Am that I Am, the Life and only Way.

All these ones claim to know me,

But in the real sense, they don't even see me!

I am not too bothered because the time is almost due

When I'll tell them all, 'I never knew you'

But as for many that will do what I do,

They have in store, something very good.

As for you, consider this a privilege,

To be given this kind of knowledge.

My grace is sufficient for you.

Because I live so will you.

Go tell my people to know who they follow

And stop living their lives so shallow.

Suddenly, I snapped out of this vision,

And immediately I knew my mission.

Indeed, I have been sent to every nation

Because I am a chosen generation,

A royal priesthood and a holy nation.

A peculiar person that I may show forth,

The praises of He, who has brought me forth,

Out of darkness, into his marvelous light.

Today I stand to show you the plight

Of many who do not see the Light.

Like I walked into the clock seller's shop,

And had to make a stop,

Please make a choice today.

If "Jesus I love you", you are yet to say.

All you need to do is love Him and surrender all

And I know he won't let you fall.

He listens to every sinners call

As many that will give him their all.

The clock is ticking, and time is going.

Don't be deceived into waiting

Make haste, now's the time for you

Come receive Jesus and have life anew.

IT IS TIME.

- © 12th February 2001 by 'Bayor Martins

The Buxom Tale - Power of thoughts

It was some minutes to 6pm, 13th of February 2009 and I wasn’t just fagged but famished at the same time. This was due largely to the fact that I was seated on a make-shift wooden scaffold, 14ft high, (about 3 times my height) for close to five hours, fixing a trunk line on the concrete decking of the BATV (Bauchi State Television) studio room. I had been in this state for the past week and the work load was insidiously seeping strength from me. When I got to the hotel I was staying, I went for my room key and headed straight for my room as was my custom. On this day, I was even more determined to turn in early to vivify and get my energy batteries recharged for the next day’s work which I dreaded would be very much the same if not more. On the way to the door, I was already dreaming of the gentle cuddle of a million droplets of water from the shower cascading refreshingly down my body. My steps hastened at the thought as I couldn’t wait to unwind. As I was just about getting to the door, I observed another person standing at the entrance of the room door next to mine. It was a lady browsing her phone in a casual outfit that made me surmise she was the occupant of the room or a friend to the occupant. Courtesy and politesse compelled me to greet her and on doing so, I got a response, an echo of my salutation, by a voice with such mellifluous grace that it must have been on the key of B Minor; a soprano no doubt.

I entered the room and was about to settle in when the thoughts came knocking on my mind’s door. “What if she’s a cocotte?” I discarded the thought saying “Nah! She looks too decent to be.” The thought didn’t go away. It seemed to emphasize saying “what if?” then, I consciously began to rehearse how to say no nicely, you know, the cool guy kind of way. Just like the bus drivers in Kaduna would print on the bumper of their cars “sorry baby, no time for love”. I laughed at these thoughts and actions and prepped for the much awaited shower. I then went on to putter for about an hour or so after the shower before deciding to go browse at a café in town to top up my information reserve. This was also in a bid to have the room sprayed with insecticide so those little winged “mercenaries” will get their due after what they did to me the day before.

I got ready to go out and thought perhaps to practice a little on my horn – oh, did I mention I play the trumpet? Well, I just did. Now, not having my Silent Brass device with me meant I had to mute and muffle so as not to be a nuisance to everybody. I love my privacy and solitude a lot and I seem to see the world through that filter of my personality. Just some minutes into my practice session, I was interrupted by the clanging of a metal sheet, a knock on my door. I had been in that same room for a week thereabout and this was the first time I was hearing a knock on the door. Surprised? Of course I was. Then I thought to myself “thank God, the manager finally remembered that I needed the room sprayed.” then again I thought “hope they have not come to tell me my horn is disturbing?” so I made an attempt to keep the horn out of plain sight as well as buy time to get a second knock. Well, to my surprise, there wasn’t anyone at the door when I did open it. “Boy, you’re really making much ado about nothing” I said to myself as I closed the door to continue my practice. “Wait!” Came calling the voice which wasn’t that of the manager, the bellboy or my limo driver. It was, well, yes, the sonorous one I described earlier. On appearing, there she was. The buxom wonder, eclipsing the rest of the hallway viewable from my door ajar as it was at the moment.

For the first time, I understood the concept of the computer and how in many ways it mimics the workings of the human brain because in that fraction of a second, I processed information equivalent to the messages I had heard from as far back as crèche, Sunday school, elementary school, high school and college. I'm sure last Sunday’s service and my morning devotion weren’t absent from the data processed. She stood there like a nightmare playing out in real life, arms length from my face, lingerie peeping from under her blouse, the transparent scarf on her keeping malice with the very parts of her head and shoulders they were supposed to cover. Her fair skin radiated the sunlight that wasn’t there and her smile would have given the present Miss World a run for her money whilst permanently solving the NEPA problem of Nigeria . Then came her voice that once again assailed my musically astute ears as it said “good evening,” and she made a move to come in as though we were well acquainted. Reading through my barricade of the door, “I just want to ask you something” were her words as she paused before another attempt to try to enter the room.

I can’t overstate the processing speed of the mind. In this minuscule space of time, the little red guy, the one that sits on your shoulders whispering the grandest of ideas (yeah, the one with a forked tail and horns) came saying “go ahead, she just wants to talk. What’s the harm in that?” His counterpart, the one with the wings wearing a maxi and a halo for a cap, interjected “bros, you just had a shower, and you are in a room with only one window with security bars to keep anything from coming in (or in this case, going out!). Besides, for her to come in, you’ll be backing away from the only other exit – the door, which she would have covered in every sense of the word!

My rejoinder, which I tried to give so she wouldn’t notice the quivering vibrato from a mixture of fury and fear, came with a baritone voice that wasn’t natural but a processed outcome of sudden cold from nowhere (you know the way you sound early in the morning right?) “Am sorry, I can’t let you in without knowing what you want to talk to me about.” That was my response (given with a conscious effort to restrain my right hand that was more than ready to emboss her face with my palm print – on both cheeks!) To which she said “okay!” in both rage and disgust at such a naïve good-looking guy.. “Bull’s eye” screamed the little shoulder-sitting-winged guy as the other one disappeared in defeat.

My rehearsal paid off. I didn’t try to be Samson to this you know who. When I started to think perhaps I was too mean and unsocial, I remembered that the Word had spoken of appearances of evil and given her size, she indeed was more than an appearance. You see, I grew up surrounded by five powerful nuclear definitions of feminine beauty. She didn’t stand a chance given that I have one chubby-beautiful African queen for a twin sister, an ebony dark tan diva as a younger precious one, a sylph princess who is more streamlined than a silver spoon as my immediate elder and a fruitful married age-defying-mother of children as the eldest and firstborn of my mum who by the way, is a summary of all the aforementioned.

Days later, my thoughts of concern that perhaps I was rather impolite gave way, lending credence to my action when the porter attested to her being just was I thought she was. As this time happened to be the valentine period, she had come to camp at the hotel to be the perfect description of the woman alluded to in Proverbs 6:26. This made my door to receive more knocks during the cause of the week, (and at odd times too) from men who mistook my room for the altar of sacrifice where they would be reduced to a loaf of bread!

Anyway, I don’t believe I’ve seen the last of such occurrences and I have this much to say to later ones, should they come, “Ode-e-shi!” I just can’t give in now. (“Haba!” after all that’s been built and with the glory ahead? No way!) We are just starting and the future is too invaluable to be traded for anything on this side of eternity. It pays to think in the positive and see opportunities in every problem – even opportunities to tell God “I love you…alone” with our actions.

If you share this passion, please pass this on to someone you think will be amused and inspired by this story - the buxom tale, and let me know what you think about it anyway.

Cheers!!!

- 'Bayor Emmanuel Martins