It will enter like every other,
And then you would see,
That this day was patented
Just for you.
Razak, the only son of Aisha was a vivacious boy with dreams that sometimes startled him and at other times made him laugh. How could he be all that he wished when all he had now was a mother who wasn’t only broke to the bone but also had her thigh bones broken by a ghastly motor accident that claimed his father’s life?
Aisha wasn’t always poor, there was a time her neck was bedecked with the purest of gold and finest of stones, when her skin proclaimed health and her clothes bespoke wealth. When she rolled in the oils of being Mr. Rahman’s wife. Her husband, Mubarak had taken her from Dutse where they had grown, brought her to Lagos, built a name for himself and an empire of comfort for her. How proud she had been, how rude to her friends back at home, there was no one she couldn’t face, nothing she couldn’t say. She was on a pedestal, the pedestal of money.
She had three years to stew in sweet broths before the accident happened. She was still raw with the grief of being widowed and rendered cripple when one after the other banks and financial institutions began to strip her bare. Mubarak had built his empire on the quick sand of loans and everything he left behind was a collateral.
Aisha’s end was worse than her beginning, she had no one to turn to. How could she even go back home, when she had insulted everyone she could run to, even her own parents. If her life was a mango fuit, she would be the seed enshrouded in a yellow, fleshy mesocarp of shame.
But life must go on, they say, and it did just that. Now, she could only afford to make kunu and send Razak off into Lagos traffic to hawk it. Good thing is, every good in Lagos traffic has competition except of course chilled kunu made by a Hausa woman. The income was meager, but it was steady, it was something, something enough to keep her and her beloved son alive.
That Tuesday started off for Razak on the wrong foot, and if anyone had told him that it was the day made for him he would have laughed. A passenger had collected 3 bottles of kunu from him and asked him to bring the change before she would pay. He was still getting the change from his pouch with peeling black leather when the traffic let up and the bus moved. He ran hard after the bus, but the legs of a six year old stood no chance beside four wheels, even if they were dirty.
He sobbed on the sidewalk. Those bottles of kunu were worth the entire day’s gain. How would he explain this to his mum?
A black jeep stopped right beside him. He picked his tray, business had to continue. The tinted window of the backseat whirred down to reveal the plush interior of the vehicle, the blast of fresh air that hit Razak’s face made his eyelids droop of their own volition as he relished the slow breath he drew into his burning lungs.
The man seated in the far right corner of the car looked to him like money’s elder brother. The intricate embroidery on his agbada was an artistic masterpiece. It was from this man the words that changed Razak’s life forever came.
“I am Aliko Dangote, get inside the car. Today, I adopt you. Today, I beget you. From today, you’ve become my son”
A very low grade remake of what happened with us at our salvation. We were adopted from a place of wretchedness, a hopeless life by the great Lord. The almighty King of all kings, chose you and I to be his sons. It’s an awesome privilege.
1 John 3:1A “Behold what manner of love the Father has bestowed on us, that we should be called children of God!”
Today, give thanks to God for the immense privilege of sonship and if you’re not yet a son of God, all you need to do to be one is believe and receive Jesus as your Lord and saviour, and just like that you receive the power to become a son of God.
John 1:12 “But as many as received Him, to them He gave the right to become children of God, to those who believe in His name”