SOLOMON'S BRIDGE {Part II/WORK IN PROGRESS}

FLIGHT 837 *25*

He couldn't concentrate. The pilot's voice boomed through the loud speakers. It was a lively bass; rich and cultured. Ladies and Gentlemen please fasten your seat belts, he said, we're landing in the Margaret Ekpo Airport. Ten minutes later after touch down, the pilot's voice boomed again-

Welcome to Calabar.

Half an hour later he was riding the bus into the heart of the town, the area they called Blackbridge. The city was beautiful, charming, and picturesque. Everything combined to establish that peaceful effect missing in Lagos-the cool weather, the swept streets, the smooth roads. Carpet grass divided these roads; roses adorned the traffic circles, daises sprouted from the corners of crossroads, bougainvillea and flames of the forests colored the highways.

The clean breeze kissed his face as they took an even more scenic route through the hills.

He could've rented a Hyundai at the airport, but he didn't want to go around like some kind of high profile VIP. He wanted to blend in, doing nothing to draw undue attention. The bus was a big, fully air conditioned, luxurious Mercedes, with brand new leather upholstery and three TV's, but the conductor muted the volume of a local movie they'd been viewing, once a man of the cloth stood up, a worn out Bible in his hands. He was an old man; barely visible beneath his heavy tweed coat. His arms dangled from pitifully short sleeves looking like wired sticks. Oh bother! Was he going to preach? Here (Now?)

"Good mornin' everyone," he chirped, "My name is Ignatius Donates Okokon. I am an evangelist with the Holy Fire Ministries, that big building after the junction beside government lodge, and this is my usual bus route to work every morning." He had a curious accent, and it was rather heavy on the tongue. His G's were pronounced as K's and his J', Y's (hence, junction became yunc-tion, government, kovern-men.) Yup, T's were mostly silent.

"Some of you know me," he carried on, a few passengers hailing him, "but for those of you who don't, I'd like to crave your indulgence for my little three minute speech. Yes, I'd like to have three minutes of your precious time for the power of God to change your life. Three minutes and counting...!" To Ade's amazement, everybody started getting out their Bibles. This was ludicrous. What was this, Sunday school?

"Please open your Bibles to Psalm 103,"

Ade unconsciously shrank into his seat, Déjà vu teleporting him back to the days of living with ruthless grandparents, and being forced to attend the Sunday service. He'd carried no Bible then, and he had no Bible now. It just wasn't one of the things you packed in your bags when you went on a mission to kill someone.

"Verses 17 and 18 state, 'but the loving kindness of the lord is from everlasting to everlasting to those who reverence Him; His salvation is to children's children of those who are faithful to His covenant and remember to obey Him.' Wow. This is serious stuff here, people: God keeps p-promises!" He sneezed into his right palm most indelicately, using that palm to wipe his face, "When I was taking my breakfast this morning, I thought about Father Abraham. If he hadn't touched God's heart with his absolute obedience, his readiness to kill his only son, because he was asked to, would we have had Jesus today? I mean, for God so loved the world that he gave His only son...hello?"

"Hi!!!"

"Good to have your attention. Listen to what I am saying, people. Obedience bears fruit, it establishes, it saves the future. Abraham was tested for his faith, his obedience, and his love, so when you love God, you obey Him, you have faith in Him, and you provoke Him to loving you even more! Look what happened because of Abraham's obedience; Jesus came to save our future, to give us eternal life. How many of you keep your promises to God?"