Whirlwind of Mercy: The Story of a Country at War with the Truth by Pearl Adams, Chapters 7 & 8
Chapter 7, Tel Aviv, Israel The Watchman
The Israeli Ambassador to Nigeria dreaded his summons by Prime Minister Caleb Machir. Somehow, he’d never been able to stop himself from sweating in that man’s intimidating presence. He wished he were back in Nigeria despite the sorry situation in that country. He checked his watch again and looked pointedly at the Prime Minister’s Personal Assistant, Michiel Petrov. The man ignored him. Bloody Russians. What kind of a Jew would go about with a name like Petrov? All over Israel, you see them strutting about as though they owned the land!
He had always opposed the policy of opening the door too wide for immigrants just because they claimed to have Jewish blood. If care is not taken, he mused; Red Indians and Eskimos would soon find their way to Israel to claim their Jewish heritage!
“Ambassador Jimnah Isui, the Prime Minister will see you now.”
“Thank you Petrov”.
As he left the ante-room, he remembered the last time he met the Prime Minister. His visit was in connection with intelligence report that Jewish interests in Nigeria were being targeted in the wake of the attack on Iraq by the United States and its allies in 2004. The Prime Minister had said to him, “Jimnah Isui, Nigeria is a strategic ally in Africa not just for its rich natural resources but for the goodwill of its Christian population towards Israel. You know very well that we don’t have too many friends. We must nurture and protect that goodwill at all cost.” He was sure the Prime Minister would issue similar charges to him today.
“Shalom4 Prime Minister Sir”
“Shalom. Please sit down. I hope you had a pleasant trip?”
“Yes, Sir”
“Good. I am expecting some members of the Knesset to join us in the discussion. Before they arrive, is there anything I should know?”
“Well, yes Sir. I heard on good authority that the Nigerian military establishment is divided on the best course of action to restore order in the country. The Chief of Army Staff, General Dickson Okwuechie and his Air Force counterpart, Vice Marshall Peter Okonkwo are said to be in support of a coup.
They are however facing stiff opposition from the fiercely loyal General Officers Commanding (GOCs) of all Battalions across the country. If you recall Sir, I did tell you that President Akinluyi himself handpicked the GOCs. I don’t see the possibility of Okwuechie and his group making any headway without their cooperation.”
“Hmm. Okay. The Knesset folks have arrived. Petrov, tell them to come right in”
“Shalom Your Excellency”.
“Shalom. Please have your seats. You all know Ambassador Isui. I do hope you have read the brief on Nigeria I sent to you yesterday.
David Nathan, the Labor Party leader was the first to speak. He said, “Prime Minister Sir, I want to be clear on one thing. How does the situation in Nigeria affect the State of Israel?”
Although the question irritated the Prime Minister, he held his peace. He was convinced that most politicians exploit every situation to undermine their opponents. More so, Nathan had not hidden his ambition to become the next Prime Minister of Israel. Election was just four months away.
“Nathan, Nigeria is for now our most important ally in Africa. Even in the Muslim dominated north, we have been able to make friends with the elite through the transfer of technology in the agricultural sector. As you well know, the State of Israel does not have many friends across the world because of Arab propaganda against us over the Palestinian question. President Akinluyi of Nigeria called me on phone three days ago asking for whatever assistance we could render. The situation in his country is getting more critical by the day; with the possibility of some senior military officers shooting their way into power again. I am perplexed like everyone else about the strange plague. People have food and cannot eat. It isn’t like the famine in some parts of Eastern and Northern Africa.
There is no pattern to it because people can eat normally for two or three days and then go without food for as many as five days. What is most painful is that most Nigerians don’t have the means of knowing when the plague has been lifted in their communities to enable them enjoy the respite. It’s sad. I heard that most of those who died were not killed by hunger, but by complications arising from their inability to take medication for serious ailments like diabetes, dysentery and malaria. The saving grace for us and other nations is that the deprivation has been limited to Nigerians for now. Who knows what could happen tomorrow? Gentlemen, I promised President Akinluyi that I would get through to him by tomorrow. What can we do to help that embattled man?”
The head of the Knesset delegation, Abiathar Jesreel cleared his throat, a habit that had become his trademark.
“Prime Minister, I have heard from the grapevine that Jesus Christ, the crucified Jew described by Christians as ‘the Messiah’ is responsible for the sad affair in that country. You know, situations like this make me wish that those who were detailed to keep watch at the grave of the executed Nazarene had sacrificed their pleasure of sleep for the interest of Israel. That man and his deceived disciples have not furthered the cause of the nation of Israel. He and other fanatics in his mould have caused more trouble in the world than one thousand Hitlers put together. I suggest we distance ourselves from this problem in order not to be seen as supporting the cause of this Nazarene. We have enough challenges of our own.”
Machir smiled to himself. He wasn’t surprised about the tirade from Jesreel. The man had never hidden his hatred for any form of religion outside Judaism. In fact, he had the impression that Jesreel could have volunteered to wield the hammer that drove the nails into the Nazarene’s palms if he was born in that generation.
“Jesreel, what makes you think Israel cannot suffer a similar plague? What makes you believe Yahweh has insured us against such a calamity? I thought we should at least forget our biases and prejudices in times like this. We don’t know which nation of the earth will receive the baton from Nigeria. Let’s stop being melodramatic with issues of such great importance.”
Jesreel sat back in his chair, his face ashen. The Prime Minister had always respected his views. At least that was the impression he used to have. What had gotten into the old man today?
“I’m sorry Prime Minister. I had no idea that my views would not be welcomed. I support whatever decision you would take on the matter. In any case, what can we do Your Excellency? If the plague is supernaturally induced do we have the capability to confront the gods?”
Machir roared with laughter. He wished he had invited Dimitriv David, the Minister for Interior to the meeting. Jesreel wouldn’t have dared opened his mouth to criticize Christianity because David, a Christian was noted for his sharp tongue.
‘Jesreel, I’m sure President Akinluyi knows that Israel does not perform exorcism. No Sir. The help I believe the Nigerian leader needs at this point in time is to keep the military at bay. Ambassador Isui, how many Israeli Engineers are stationed at the Nigerian Presidential Villa?”
The Ambassador smiled. Israel is a nation married to secrecy even when it’s not necessary. Of course, everyone at the meeting knew the Prime Minister referred to MOSSAD agents under cover at the Villa.
“We have thirty-four personnel in all Sir. Twenty-four are attached to Halliet Beliel, a German construction firm, while ten were sent to install security equipment at the Villa. Under the agreement with the Nigerian Government, they should hand over maintenance of the equipment to Nigerian technicians by November 2020.”
“Good. That should give them time to participate in the mission I have in mind. Ambassador, how can we infiltrate more men into the Villa without arousing the suspicion of the Nigerian military and the press?
“Prime Minister Sir, such a project would be tough to implement at this time because the Nigerian military has infiltrated security agencies at the Villa. If it must be done, I suggest we activate our assets at the headquarters of Helliet Beliel in Stuttgart, Germany. They can influence the withdrawal of German technicians at the Villa and replace them with our men. The technicians can return to Nigeria after the situation has normalized.
“That’s a good idea. I will call President Akinluyi tomorrow and brief him accordingly. I will also advise him to limit his movement to the Villa for now, since our men might not be able to assist him if his opponents make their move outside the Government House.”
The Prime Minister turned to the Knesset delegation and met the cold stare of Naboth Zorah, another opposition leader. The man had not spoken a word since the discussion commenced.
“Zorah, I can see you do not agree with our decision. Do you have any other alternative?”
“Prime Minister, I’m surprised that you made reference to ‘our decision”. Why did you summon the leadership of the Knesset to this meeting if you had already taken a decision on the matter? I can’t remember all through this discussion, any contribution by Knesset representatives here, on the deployment of Israeli troops for foreign duties. I believe this is an issue that must be deliberated upon by the entire Knesset. I refuse to be part of any illegality”.
Jesreel, the head of the Knesset delegation saw this as an opportunity to worm his way back into the heart of the Prime Minister. He needed the man’s endorsement to win the Labor Party’s nomination to become the next Prime Minister.
“Zorah, I agree with you entirely. The Prime Minister erred in not allowing us to make our contributions. Be that as it may, I believe the situation in Nigeria is too serious to accommodate any form of delay. We may not have the time to summon a Knesset meeting to discuss the Prime Minister’s request. I suggest that we give him the benefit of the doubt if he’s willing to smoothen whichever feathers have been ruffled.”
The Prime Minister cringed inwardly. He understood that Jesreel was asking him to tender an apology to Zorah. His pride stood tall like Mount Everest. How could he, the son of Machir, a direct descendent of King David apologize to this upstart with doubtful Jewish antecedents? What gave Zorah, the son of a Croatian father and a Serbian mother the audacity to bait him, a bonafide Jew, other than the magnanimity of the State of Israel?
He also knew that Zorah would continue to bait him on the issue until he tendered the apology. He was stuck between his concern for President Akinluyi and calling Zorah’s bluff but he knew he couldn’t let the Nigerian leader down. He was grateful to Jesreel though. He knew there was no way he could present the request to the Knesset and expect a reply in the next five weeks. It was a common joke in Israel that the Knesset can spend a minimum of three months to reach a decision on the color of carpet to be bought for the Legislative Chamber! He wasn’t ready to expose himself to another stress-filled interaction with people who enjoyed listening to their own voices.
“Zorah, you have my apology. I took your consent for granted because I felt you appreciated the seriousness of the Nigerian situation from the brief I sent to all of you yesterday.”
Zorah felt aggravated. Trust the old man to make you feel like an idiot even when he pretends to apologize. Still, that was an improvement on their last encounter. That was during the discussions on the burial of late Yasser Arafat, former leader of the Palestine Liberation Organization. He had taken exception to the Prime Minister’s insistence that Arafat’s family should not be allowed to accompany the corpse to Ramallah, his final resting place.
He didn’t buy Machir’s argument that Palestinian terrorists could disguise as family members of the deceased PLO leader to cause havoc in the occupied territory. For God’s sake how could one justify an action like that? He rallied other Knesset leaders around him and the Prime Minister was forced to concede grounds. He still remembered the hot exchange of words between them before the issue was resolved. At the end of the day, nobody solicited for an apology. He was too glad to have bested the Prime Minister to take notice of his scathing remarks. Today, the gods were on his side as well. He would not push his luck.
“Prime Minister, I accept your apology. I agree that the stability of Nigeria is of paramount interest to Israel. Go ahead and send the troops if other Knesset leaders here do not object.”
The Prime Minister heaved a sigh of relief. He knew he still had the Army chief, Benjamin Mushi to contend with, but the Knesset had been the major hurdle.
Chapter 8, Maiduguri, Nigeria Not Under My Watch!
“Megida5, Megida, wake up! Iliya is foaming from the mouth. Megida wake up!”
Ambassador Bawa Usman roused himself from sleep. He almost cursed his wife for disturbing his rest. It had taken him more than two hours to find sleep only for the noisy woman to bring him back to the reality he was running away from. His stomach rumbled for want of food. He couldn’t remember when he last ate.
“Hajia6 what’s the matter? How many times have I warned you not to disturb my sleep?”
Hajia Sidikat wasn’t the argumentative type. Of course her husband knew that she couldn’t have woken him up without cogent reasons. She looked flustered. In his anger, he hadn’t heard the bit about Ilyia foaming from the mouth.
“Woman, can I get some sleep in this house?”
“Alhaji7, you know me better than that. Ilyia is seriously ill. Well, I don’t know if I’m right to call it illness. You know we’ve not eaten in this house for three days running”.
“What do you want me to do Hajia? We should thank Allah for his great mercy. You know some of our neighbors have lost their children to the plague. It is the worst kind of famine one can experience. You have food and yet you die of hunger. Where is he?”
“I left him in the women quarters with Halima, my maid. Megida, I hear many people are trooping to Church to eat bread and …..”
“Enough of that rubbish! I will be the last person to partake of that ritual. Should we not die for our faith? Should we serve Allah only when it’s convenient for us? Let’s see how Ilyia is. We may have to take him to the hospital.”
As the husband and wife made their way to the women quarters, Usman remembered a conversation he had with his Islamic teacher some years back. They were discussing the necessity for jihad when his teacher, Sheik Bala Idris said jokingly, “I hope we’ll be alive to fight anyone the way things are going in the world. Allah could wake up one morning and wipe out everybody!” Inwardly, he said a silent prayer to Allah that the cold hands of death spared Idris the agonies Nigerians are experiencing. He suddenly felt cold and very tired. His stomach continued to make noises but he ignored them. What is the use of thinking about food when Allah or whatever is tormenting Nigeria would not let you eat? He was so wrapped up in his thoughts that he forgot to ask about his first wife and the welfare of her children. He felt guilty because he had to pass her part of the women quarters to enter Sidikat’s living room.
“Ahm, did you see Hajia Binta today?”
Sidikat gave a sly smile. Everyone knew she was Megida’s favorite and she goes out of her way to put the older woman in her place. Of course, she saw Hajia in the morning, but she won’t do public relations for her. In a polygamous setting like theirs where every action is geared towards capturing the man’s heart, you can’t afford to play by the rule of the game.
Her mother had warned her not to be too soft or she would be used as a doormat. She had gone the extra length of traveling with her best friend Hamra, to Gamboru, a border town in the State, where a notable mystic, Alfa Muktar Danlami prepared “special package’ for her to make her desirable to her husband. She wasn’t initially keen about the proposal, but Hamra convinced her that the end justified the means.
“Sidikat, have you seen Hajia today?”
“No, Megida. She keeps to her quarters these days”
“I’ll go straight to your quarters then. I will see her and the children afterwards.”
Sidikat smiled to herself. She was sure Hajia would see them through her window. She was thrilled anytime something happened to reinforce her superiority in their home. Which 23 year old girl would not celebrate her rise from obscurity at the age of 16 years to the enviable position of “First Lady” to an Ambassador?
“Hajia Sidikat! Hajia Sidikat!”
Sidikat’s head shot up. That was the voice of her maid Halima.
“Megida, I think we better hurry up” She suddenly wished they were residing in a smaller house with a manageable compound. Funny how times change! She’d always taken pride in their sprawling compound with its massive gate. Today, the five minutes walk to her quarters at the southern part of the house took forever. Turning the corner into her apartment, she saw Halima through the window, pacing up and down.
Sidikat broke into a trot. Her son must not die. Her husband quickened his pace to keep up with her. Ilyia was coiled up in a fetal position as they reached the apartment. He looked at them with glazed eyes, muttering “Mummy I’m hungry”. The Ambassador looked at his son and could hardly believe his eyes. The boy had emaciated so much in just two weeks!
“I will send for Doctor Yakub. He will know what to do. Hajia, let him have a cold bath. I will drive down to the Hospital and bring the Doctor. Tell Hajia Binta I will see her and the children when I’m back. We must get Ilyia attended to first.”
The Ambassador stepped out of the apartment lost in thought. He has all that money could buy but his son could not eat. What kind of a sadistic monster would allow a child die of hunger in the midst of plenty? He was sure Allah could not have a hand in the plague that has killed more than thirty thousand people so far. He recalled the nationwide broadcast by the President on the issue. The man had spoken with the confidence of someone who had the situation under control. Two months after that broadcast, things had grown from bad to worse!
Some of his friends in the South, particularly Lagos and Onitsha had their property burnt by irate mob who accused them of involvement in money making rituals. His father said three of their neighbors in Konduga lost six of their children to the strange famine. The American Government could only deploy warships to the Gulf of Guinea as if that would deter the invisible forces laying siege to Nigeria.
As Usman walked briskly past her quarters, Hajia Binta heaved a sigh of relief. She had been pleading with Jesus to spare her a confrontation with her husband until her faith was strong enough to carry her. Her conversion wasn’t as dramatic as that of Paul the Apostle she read about four days ago, but it was unique in a sense. She was watching a Christian program on television a month ago when the issue of the Holy Communion came up.
It was a phone-in program. One of the callers, apparently a Muslim, accused Christians of engaging in demonic rituals under the guise of obeying scriptural injunctions. She couldn’t remember the defense of the Pastor who anchored the program, but she recalled his advice to skeptics to ask God to reveal Himself to them and confirm whether the Communion was scriptural or not. At the time the program was aired, the plague hadn’t visited their part of the country, so the question of taking or not taking the Holy Communion did not arise. All the while, she kept pondering about the Christian religion.
She was brought up in a Christian environment quite all right, but that did not influence her upbringing. Her late father insisted that all his children must attend Christian Missionary schools. But that was as far as his liberality would go. In fact, he made it clear to all his children that marriage outside Islam was out of the question. Because all his children knew he was a man of his words and does not brood any opposition from them, none of them dared to enter into any emotional alliance with Christians. Sure, they made friends with Christians but that was as far as they could go.
On 14th May 2018 to be specific, she had the urge to buy a Bible. Bible? She dismissed the thought but it persisted. Four days after the plague hit Maiduguri, she went on her knees asking the Christian God to reveal Himself to her, so that she can enjoy the protection the Holy Communion afforded. She was ready to do anything to save her three children. She had heard that thousands of people had died already, and was determined that her children would not be part of the statistics.
“Almighty God, your servant did say that You would reveal Yourself to us if we ask You in the name of Jesus Your Son. Please reveal Yourself to me”.
She wasn’t sure if she prayed aright. Nobody has ever taught her to pray the Christian way, except the one called “The Lord’s prayer” they recited at the Missionary School owned by the Catholic Church.
She felt embarrassed after she prayed, so she stood up and walked to the window. It was then a voice asked her, “Do you believe in love? Look at My creation. Do you think I created all these things for Myself? I made them for My children because I love them. I created you for Myself, to show forth My beauty in you. I gave you a free will to choose what you want and I will never take it away from you. Do you want to know me or you only want to use me to save your children? I don’t accept conditional love. If you choose to follow me, you must be willing to give me your whole heart or nothing at all.”
Binta felt exhilarated as His words bathed her with love. She had never felt like this before. She cried out, “Lord, I am not worthy of Your love, but I need it. I want to know You for Yourself. Please save me.
“Then invite me to come into your heart. You must take that step.”
Binta had seen some Christian Ministers make altar calls on television. She tried to remember the words new converts usually say and couldn’t. She blurted out, “Lord, please just come into my heart today and be my Father. I promise to love You and obey You. Amen.” She couldn’t explain it. It was as if she heard the Lord laugh. Does God laugh? This time she heard a roaring laughter and He spoke to her again.
“I created man in My image. You will need fellowship with other Christians. I know the situation is not yet ripe for that because your husband is still running away from me. I will speak to you through the Bible and Christian programs on television and radio. Don’t worry, My salvation covers your household and I will save your husband for your sake. You can nourish yourself and the children with my blood and flesh. That’s My mercy for your country for now.”
That day, she and the children ate proper meal for the first time in three days. The Lord was true to his word. He spoke to her everyday. She bought a copy of the New King James version of the Bible same day. She didn’t share her newfound faith with her children though. She felt that the time wasn’t ripe for that. Consequently, she would always pray over the Holy Communion before inviting them to partake of it.
Many times, she felt her first son Usman Jnr was curious about the situation in their house and wanted to pry. Of course, he knew other people were not able to eat. She had prayed severally that the Lord should keep her children from asking her the source of their unusual blessing. She was sure the Lord had done just that.
Today when she saw Sidikat rushing off to the main house, she knew the health of her son had deteriorated. She had seen the boy the previous day and he looked so pale, apparently due to hunger. She was tempted to offer a helping hand but knew that could boomerang. She felt so sad that she couldn’t help the boy.
She was still pondering about the situation when the Lord spoke to her heart that He will intervene for her sake. She was praying for the boy when she heard her husband’s voice by her window. She looked out and saw him walking pass towards Sidikat’s apartment. A tall willowy looking lady with Fulani features accompanied him. Binta’s flushed face betrayed the fear in her heart. She thought her husband was visiting her. “Get a hold on yourself!” She scolded herself. Had the Lord not promised to watch over His own? She said a silent prayer asking God to forgive her and help her to trust Him more. Peace settled in her heart.
In the next apartment, the Ambassador sat opposite Doctor Amina Dantata, a worried look on his face. He had asked his wife to excuse them.
“Doctor, are you saying you cannot prescribe any drug for my son? Am I to sit here and watch him die?”
“Sir, you know I would do anything to save this boy’s life. Your son is simply hungry. Giving him any drug in his situation could be fatal. We’ve had several cases like this since the plague started. Doctor Yakub advised the parents to get off their high horses and take the children to the Church close to the Hospital to be administered with Holy….”
“Don’t mention that word in my house Doctor. I am a Muslim and will not change my religion because of the fear of death.”
Amina Dantata looked at the boy coiled up on the Persian rug and back at the father. She could empathize with this astute looking Muslim. He was just like her father. It took the intervention of her husband, an Islamic scholar at the University of Maiduguri, to convince her dad to allow her siblings take the Communion.
“So am I and so is Doctor Yakub Sir”. We are talking of life Sir, which as you know has no duplicate. Nobody has asked me to convert to Christianity since I started partaking of the Communion.
If you must know Sir, the Governor’s children are partaking of the meal. I can mention other prominent politicians in the State who invite Pastors daily to their homes to administer the Sacrament. Frankly, I believe I have given you the best counsel in the circumstance. If you need a confirmation, you can call Dr Yakub on his MTN line. He should be in Abuja by now. If you’ll excuse me Sir, I think I should return to the Hospital.”
Usman watched her go with anger in his heart. How despicable can people be? How can a true Muslim abandon Allah and his Prophet because of trials? He would be the last man standing.
“Sidikat!”
Sidikat entered the living room expecting the worse. She hadn’t placed any hope on the Doctor because she knew her son’s condition was hunger induced. Except they could get food into his system soon, she didn’t see any solution in sight.
“Sidikat, listen to me. We have to be strong in time like this. Our faith, the very foundation of our existence is at stake. We have to make sacrifices with our lives if need be, for the sake of Allah.”
Sidikat looked at her husband with perplexity. What has sacrifice and Allah got to do with the situation at hand?
“Megida, I confess that I don’t know what you are talking about. What did the Doctor say about Ilyia?”
Usman held the wife’s hand and drew her to him. He wished with all his heart that there were other alternatives. He wished it were a question of money. He wouldn’t have minded selling everything he had to restore health to his son.
“Hajia, the Doctor said Ilyia’s situation needed divine intervention. She suggested that we allow him to partake of the Christian Holy Communion.”
Sidikat heaved a sigh of relief. It meant there was hope for her boy. The time she spent in her bedroom waiting for the Doctor’s diagnosis was a nightmare. She was expecting the worst when her husband summoned her. She looked at her husband and saw the determination on his face. She had to choose her words with wisdom. The life of her son was at stake.
“Megida, I do agree with you that one must make sacrifices in this life. My only fear is that we could be fighting against Allah if we don’t know what his will is in this matter. How are we sure that the Communion is not his mercy to keep us alive in time like this? I hate to remind you of Doctor Yakub’s warning when I got pregnant with Ilyia that I shouldn’t risk another pregnancy because of the state of my fallopian tube. Megida, am I to lose my only child in circumstances that I will not be able to explain to myself in future? He is your son. I rest my case with Allah”.
As the Ambassador beheld the tear- streaked face of his wife, something in him rebelled against a deity that demanded such a supreme sacrifice from him, a mortal. He knew deep down that Sidikat would never forgive him if her son died because of his desire to be a martyr. Allah would fight his own battles, but he Usman would do all in his power to save the life of his child. He drew his wife closer.
“I will send for Abdullahi immediately. He should be able to help us.”
Sidikat smiled to herself. How time has changed! Abdullahi Alhassan used to be her husband’s closest friend until he converted to Christianity eight years ago and changed his name to Lucas. After that, it became a taboo to as much as mention his name in their home. She recalled her husband’s word the day Abdullahi sent a card to invite them to attend his ordination as Pastor at the Redeemed Christian Assembly.
Her husband had said to the boy who brought the invitation card, “Tell Abdullahi that I look forward to attending his funeral. As far as I’m concerned, he’s a walking corpse”.
“Megida, how would you trace him after all these years? Should we not simply ask the female Doctor to assist us?
“Abdullahi will be discrete. I will ask him to administer the Communion to all of us until the plague is stayed. I know where to find him. Leave that to me. That reminds me, I have to see Hajia and explain everything to her. I pray she shows understanding. Use a cold towel to mop Ilyia’s brow while I see Hajia.”
Sidikat lifted up a silent prayer to Allah for his intervention, but her husband walked out with his head bowed. He felt he had disappointed Allah although he was convinced that he had taken the best decision under the circumstance.