Yes, the title of this week’s piece is not a mistake, and if by the time it is published my editor has changed the headline, the two of us will put our legs in one trouser.
Flying Aero Contractors to Benin City last Friday has temporarily cured me of rolling my eyes at our president, mega-pastors and Governor Amaechi of Rivers State from buying pimped-out private jets...
Ahem, as I was saying, last Friday I decided to pay a weekend visit to Benin where our Comrade Governor Oshiomole is on the other side of the labour fence now...I boarded the plane and flying makes me queasy like I was doing mental arithmetic in front of my headmaster, Mr. Akwa Duru. God bless his departed soul. But to reduce my tension, I decided to dream of the ogbono soup and pounded yam my uncle's wife had promised me once I landed. As I was salivating on the thought of eating dry fish, the plane started shaking. Brothers and sisters, it takes only a small bump for my palms to start flooding like Lekki palms during rainy season. I kept telling myself—calm down, it is only a thirty-minute journey. Little did I know we were in for a three-hour ride, it was as if the flight path had suddenly become the Benin-Ore road.
The pilot commanded us to fasten our seat belts and ordered the air hostess to stop all activities. When air hostesses are ordered to sit down, it cannot possibly be Owambe situation. "Ladies and gentlemen, we have some planes ahead of us trying to land in Benin as soon as they do, we too can land. Enjoy the free ride till we are able to land." Haw-haw-haw, very funny. It was obviously a Comedy Central situation for the pilot—and a hellish ride for the passengers.
For what seemed like an eternity, the pilot didn’t speak to us. At one point, we were so close to landing that I saw rooftops and the erosion gullies of Benin. But within seconds the pilot put the plane on gear five and went back into the clouds. Suddenly, another forceful vibration started. It was time for me to start forgiving all my real and imagined enemies and cancelling debts. Before I knew it, two women in the seat in front of mine jumpstarted a full gospel ministry. As the plane danced, one of the women, a Pastor Woman, fired on strong prayers—on how God had promised His children power over untimely death! Meanwhile, I was struggling to find words from the Bible besides “Peace, be still” which was what Jesus Christ commanded the turbulent sea when the boat carrying him and his disciples started misbehaving. Mind you when you are facing turbulence in the air, there are certain words you just don't want to include in prayer, for example, no “Die! Die! Die!”
After what seemed like forever and with the impromptu church service still in full swing, the pilot finally said we were returning to Lagos because we couldn’t land. Now Pastor Woman and the congregation did not see any need for praying in regular English anymore, all communications with our Creator was now rendered in tongues. Pastor Woman clenched and unclenched her hands, stabbing the air, and if not for the pilot's warning about wearing seat belts, she would have gotten up and started distributing holy spirits freely. At this point, my prayers became audible. The pilot didn’t update us again while we were worshiping and binding the devil and the plane was doing Bonsue Fuji! A gentleman begged profusely to use the toilet; gasps and moans were heard for every violent shake the plane did. I had already sweated out all my bodily fluids through my palms!
To cut short story long, we landed safely and the passengers erupted in high praise and worship songs like we were having a child dedication. The pilot asked us to disembark so they could refuel because there were “no emergency services to watch over the plane while it was being refuelled with passengers inside.” Hmmm. He said he was going back to Benin. Me? I ran out of the plane and bade him safe journey.
Why do I want a private jet when I am not the president or the governor of any state or pastor of any church? Because the Aero pilot did not communicate enough to either calm our fears or let us know what the deal was. His two updates during a three hour ordeal were enough. So, in my private jet, I want to have access to the cockpit and lay hands on my pilot if need be. If you are reading this and the Lord has touched your heart, buy me a Canadian-made Bombardier Global Express XRS. Remember God loves a cheerful giver, which is why God loves hardworking Nigerians who cannot afford Okada ride yet keep giving planes and jets to their various governmental and religious leaders! - EXCUSE ME!
Victor Ehikhamenor is an internationally known visual artist and writer. He received his BA in English and Literary Studies from Ambrose Alli University. He holds a Masters degree in Technology Management, as well as MFA in Creative Writing from the University of Maryland, USA. Widely exhibited at home and abroad, Ehikhamenor is a regular contributor to magazines and journals on social issues. He has won awards for his works; these include the 2008 Leon Forest Scholar Fiction Award and a Breadloaf Scholarship. He served as NEXT Newspaper’s first Creative Director and maintained a weekly column in the paper which forms the bedrock of this new book. He manages his own creative and strategic communication company, VEE Global Concepts. Excuse Me, his first book was published by Parresia Publishers. For copies, please call Femi Morgan for Roving Heights on 08181880536 or Servio Gbadamosi for WriteHouse on 08053164359 or a Parrésia rep on 08087304400.
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