Only One LIFE

THE young men paired up and lifted the library furnitures agilely, taking them into the building for installation.

“You’ve got good choices there,” Dr. Uta said to Mr. Sambo who was standing beside him. Dr Uta with his back curved inwards as always was standing gallantly, a physically strong fellow with his feet having a firm grip on the ground. People usually said he ought to be in the military. He wasn’t harsh, but he was bold in all things whatsoever it may be, good or evil. He was also known to have no restraint whenever it came to women.

“Well, that’s my job,” Mr. Sambo replied. They were both standing at the newly installed glass door of the university main library.

“The place is all new, soon some old visitors won’t know it’s our damn old age  library building anymore”, Mr. Uta laughed. “It’s all you, Mr. Sambo, a man of change. You have a touch of betterment wherever you go. It’s an amazing thing,” he commended.

“Yes,” Mr. Sambo replied absent mindedly, as he was trying to record the amount of furniture delivered.

By afternoon the university librarian was around and walked up the stairs flinging Mr. Sambo’s office door wide open.

“Excellent Sambo, bravo,” she said, standing at the door with arms spread out. She took majestic steps into the office, pushing aside the seats opposite the table. She placed both palms on the wooden desk, her bangles rattling together to hit the table. “I would work with you even in the next life, Sambo,” she flattered.

Mr. Sambo smiled, “There’s just one life Ma’am, but I accept the compliment,” he chuckled.

She laughed, “You know what I mean. Anyway, put everything in the records. Make an elaborate report,” she waved her fingers in the air in a dreamy manner. “I’d like your new efforts to be much appreciated, Sambo,” she smiled at him, the wrinkles beside her lips revealing themselves under her makeup.

“Yes, Ma’am,” Mr. Sambo replied promptly with a nod. She turned around and walked out the office without another word.

As Mr Sambo tidied up in his office after the days work, he opened his drawer and ran his fingers through the neatly arranged files as though to count them. He drew out a file and as he flipped through it, he saw a handful of an old tract titled ‘Only One Life’. He slammed the drawer taking the tracts with him. As he descended the library stairs, he met some staff conversing with the librarian.

“Good evening all,” he greeted cheerfully shaking a few hands. He quickly got the tracks out of his pocket and began to share the with all that stood around. “Only one life,” he reminded them assuredly as he handed them the tracts. They all knew Mr Sambo, too Christian to be anything else. One of the staff laughed flipping the tract over.

“I’ve read this before,” he said.

The librarian chuckled, “Of course you have,” she said to the staff.

“Well, people die everyday, so if you read it everyday it’ll make a good reminder, wouldn’t you say?” Mr. Sambo asked.

“You wouldn’t like to know what I’d say,” the staff replied. Others burst out laughing except the librarian, not that she was religious, but she didn’t find the mockery funny.

Mr. Sambo smiled, “See you all tomorrow?”

“Yes, yes,” they replied.

Mr. Sambo went to Mrs Linda’s desk to sign out. Dr Uta was there, sitting and flirting with her, their conversation in hushed whispers and giggles.

“Well, you two seem very busy, but I hope you don’t mind?” Mr. Sambo said, handing them a tract each. Linda took hers with a smile while Mr. Uta simply gestured for Mr. Sambo to drop his on the table.

“Pastor, Pastor…” he called Mr. Sambo jokingly.

“I’ll read it this time,” Linda said concerning the tract as Mr. Sambo was done signing.

“So, you haven’t been reading others, huh?” Mr. Sambo asked rhetorically as he turned to go.

“Sometimes I think I hate him, only, he’s good at his job,” Mr. Uta whispered to Linda. She waved off the comment.

“Where were we?” she asked instead.

Upon arriving home, Mr. Sambo didn’t rush into the bathroom for a shower as usual,  but dashed into his study, sat on his chair and pulled it up to the table. He stared meditatively at the blank page of his email on his laptop screen, the quietness in the house echoing in his mind. Placing his stout fingers on the keyboard, he typed;

Dearest Augusta,

I’m happy to tell you that the university finally sent in the needed funds for the library’s refurbishment. New furniture and equipment are currently being installed and I’m overseeing the team. I might get a promotion after this, I want to believe you should be happy to hear that at least.

Augusta, I get so sad when I think of you and our son Jonathan, and how we could have been together in all this, but you preferred the arms of a wealthier man. I wish everyday that I could be with our son even if it were for just a single day.

I send you love and tears from Nigeria here. I pray everyday that we could be together again, if not here, then in heaven someday.

With love,

Sambo.

After clicking on ‘send’, he breathed deeply and leaned backwards on his seat. As he stared at the white ceiling boards, he remembered when he helped his workers install them just before his marriage with Augusta.

After dinner, he took out some quiet time to pray and continued to mumble prayers to God as he drifted off to sleep.

•••DAYS LATER•••

As Linda walked into the librarian’s office smiling, she dropped a document on the table. The librarian stared at her blankly. “Any problem Ma’am?” Linda enquired.

She blinked severely and sighed. “We just identified a body in Mr. Sambo’s apartment. Sambo is gone. Dead.”

“What?” Linda gasped. The news was a shock. She felt weak to her feet. “I don’t understand, he’s been coming to work. I…”

“No Linda, we’ve gotten so used to him being around we didn’t notice he wasn’t. He’s not been at work for two days now.” The librarian began to soliloquize. “The project was waiting and it was unlike Sambo to be absent from work. I had to send someone to fetch him, they found him dead in his apartment, sleeping so peacefully… No one knew.” She rubbed her forehead with her palm to attempt covering her misty eyes. “Some say he was murdered, others think it’s suicide,” she paused, “but I know he would never kill himself, it’s against Christian beliefs.”

“Wait, I still don’t understand how, I mean… Where…” Linda lost her words.

“His family in Ghana has been notified. I have asked them to take the body for an autopsy examination, nevertheless I believe he died a natural death,” the librarian concluded dabbing her eyes with a handkerchief. She got up, walked round the table and entered the toilet.

“No, no, no,”  Linda cried standing still, she couldn’t believe her ears.

Linda rushed down the stairs after slamming the door, all the staff were talking about it as the news had just reached them.

“How come no one knew till now? What about his wife?” A concerned staff asked as they stood around beside a desk talking.

“Wife? You mean that silly woman?” Another answered. “She’s in Ghana with another man. She left him years ago despite the fact that he was such a good man, probably too good for her.”

Linda quietly walked over to her desk. She wiped the tear at the corner of her eye as she sensed someone coming up close behind her. Dr Uta tried to startle her playfully with tickles. “Stop that!” She yelled.

“What’s the matter?” He asked pulling up a seat to sit beside her.

“Sambo is dead”, she told him.

“And so?” He asked without emotion.

Linda was taken aback. In a flash she remembered his last words concerning Sambo. Her eyes widened as she asked, “did you do it?”

“Do what?”

“His body is going in for autopsy,” she said looking at him disdainfully.

“Excuse me?” Mr. Uta felt utterly offended. He whispered, “are you trying to accuse me of something, Linda?”

“No, I’m just informing you,” she replied before turning to face her desk, ignoring him completely. He got up and angrily walked away. Linda shifted the sheets on her table and the tract fell out, ‘Only one life’. She picked it up with renewed interest and read it thoroughly.

•••THE BURIAL•••

The coffin laid on an iron bench as some agile young men dug the grave. Among the many canopies, under the first mounted canopy sat Augusta and a Ghanaian friend of hers together with a couple of relatives of Mr. Sambo’s. Augusta, in obvious pretence and somewhat guilty, had come for her husband’s burial, but without their son Jonathan. She had elaborate hair and dressed too delicate for a widow at her husband’s burial, yet she blubbered now and then in pretence before his relatives and friends.

The staff from the University sat under a special canopy labelled ‘University Staff’. The librarian honored the burial and was given a seat in front of the canopy from where she just kept staring at the coffin like it was all a big nightmare. Mr. Sambo had died a natural death. Linda sat behind with a female colleague who kept on talking.

“Life is so unbalanced, isn’t it?” The colleague asked Linda, whispering in her ear. “I hate the way that miserable woman is pretending. And worst of all, she’s so elaborately dressed. Does she know this is a burial?” She commented referring to Augusta.

“At least she’s in black as required,” Linda said.

“Well her Ghanaian friend is not. She should have played along. What? Is she a stranger to Africa?”

Linda rolled her eyeballs. “I’m even surprised Augusta is here. I thought they divorced.”

“No, they didn’t. She just left him, he was too much of a gentle man.”

Linda listened to the burial testimonies, she realized that there was so much about him that she never knew… And oh how they called him ‘a gentleman,’ what does that mean?. She unfolded the tract in her hand, ‘Only one life’ …it kept on ringing. She sighed, “Bless his heart,” as she mused staring at the picture of a grave on the tract. The sound of a man clearing his throat into the microphone brought Linda back to reality. A pastor was about to address the people before the lowering of the coffin. After talking at length and quoting a handful of scriptures, the pastor came out from behind the pulpit stand and announced.

“At this occasion of physical death, I’d like to create room for spiritual birth. Men and brethren, this is not a bad time to make a decision to follow Jesus. Without further ado, if you want to make this important decision please step forward to the front of your canopy.”

Silence swept across the crowd after these words, but as the seconds passed, the silence was broken by the sound of Linda’s plastic seat as she stood up and walked out to the front. She fell to her knees in tears. The silence was broken again and again by the sound of people picking through the plastic seats to stand in front of their canopies. After some minutes, more than half of the people were standing, some shading tears, others dropping to their knees in prayer. There was something utterly strange about this Mr. Sambo. Who was he and what did he do that drew that many people to repentance? Well, the answer lies with those who knew him face to face. 

One life only,
No second chance
So we may change
The choices we made
And the time we wasted
In this one life only.

One life only,
In it to understand
The folly in sin
Though short pleasure it brings,
And then to determine
To what things we must cleave,
And what things we must leave,
And from what we must flee
In this one life only.

One life only,
In it to love fellow men and God,
In it to forgive so we may bloom,
In it to learn to live for nothing
But the Truth we have believed,
In this one life only.

One life only,
The Lord set it so
That one day it’ll be over
And then we’ll answer
What did you do?
Where did you go?
Who did you bless?
Did you remember God
In your one life only?

And after we are gone
Will our works live on
To preach the life of Christ
And draw souls to God
Who gave us freely
This one life only?