CHRISTMAS GIFT

 

‘Like the string* is stuck’, Solomon said.

‘Yes, I can observe a sudden abnormal hike in SPP*’, I replied. ‘But I’ll call rig floor to confirm’, I added.

True to our speculation, there was a pack-off* as the driller confirmed it. Strange it was to me for we were still on the surface hole section, just at the beginning of the operation. I was curious so I asked Solomon and he explained to me that it must be that the unconsolidated formation collapsed around the string and choked it. Shortly, jarring* started, and went on for the rest of the day, but no, the string wouldn’t budge.

First day passed, no string, second day no string. The only information was the client reps on board were still communicating with town to know the next step. At last, they decided on employing wireline methods to recover the tool. This would involve loading some explosive into the well and letting it off. A toolbox meeting* was held prior to the operation and I was there as a representative of my department. Some safety procedures were required before the operation could start. There was to be radio silence (meaning every equipment or gadget transmitting radio waves e.g. mobile phones, internet satellites would be switched off) till the end of the operation, no movement around the area of operation—barrier tapes would be placed across the concerned areas and were not to be crossed by any non-essential person. The boats around were to move about five miles away from the rig and blabla and blabla.

All hands on deck, the operation started and ended. However, it was not successful, the gun did not activate. I knew it was going to be a tough time for the wireline guys for two of them were my friends, so I uttered some prayers to God to help them.

As a result of the failure of the equipment, they had to repeat the operation. At that time, it was already my sleeping time. The next day was Christmas. It was a beautiful Christmas morning as it birthed the release of the whole drillstring*. I was going to the galley in the morning when I met the geologist and another man on my way, they were discussing and I overheard them that the whole drillstring came to the surface. Whao! Normally, the drillstring was expected to come to the surface in fractions with the remaining been sealed off with the hole. I was glad I prayed. ‘God you’re so good and you answer prayers’, I whispered. The recovery of the string was a Christmas gift to us on the rig, this was going to be a special rig Christmas, everyone was excited.

In the evening, during fellowship, four people shared the same testimony—the recovery of the string—how they were grateful to God for answering their prayers over the matter. You see, we can trust God for anything and tell Him everything. Nothing is too small or too big to tell God about. No problem is too technical or tough for God to solve; nothing is too difficult for Him.

 (An account of a series of events when I was on Seawolf Oritsetimehin last year December. Written today, 01/02/12)

 

*string/drilstring: the assembly of pipes and accessories used on oil rigs for drilling

*SPP: an acronym for Stand Pipe Pressure, one of the most parameters measured on oil rigs

*pack-off: a situation in which the formation in the subsurface collapse around the drillstring such that it gets stuck in the hole

*jarring: a method of freeing a stuck string from the hole to the surface, it is made possible by a component of the drillstring called ‘jar’

*toolbox meeting: a brief meeting held before every operation on oil rigs

WE WISH YOU A MANY CHRISTMAS

Last year Christmas, I was at my sister’s in Owerri. She told me how her daughter, Dammy who was three then, sang on stage during her school's Christmas party. She was given the mic to lead and she sang:

‘We wish you a MANY Christmas
We wish you a MANY Christmas
We wish you a MANY Christmas
And a Happy New Year.’

I laughed. So we went out. And in the car I was teasing the girl singing her version of the Christmas song and added my own version:

‘We wish you a DAMMY Christmas
We wish you a DAMMY Christmas
We wish you a DAMMY Christmas
And a Happy New Year.’

I saw a smile tug at a corner of her mouth as I sang. She waited patiently for me to land and then she shot back:

‘We wish you a AUNTY Christmas
We wish you a AUNTY Christmas
We wish you a AUNTY Christmas
And a Happy New Year.’

We all burst out laughing. Her mum quipped, ‘You think she is not wise?’ Oh my darling little Dammy.

So,
I wish you all a (fill in your name) Christmas
And I wish you a very Merry Christmas
Remember Jesus Christ is the reason for this celebration
He loves you and He longs for a relationship with you.
Do accept Him into Your life if you are yet to
And live for Him if you've already let Him in

I KNOW THIS MUCH ABOUT CHICKENS

I just saw a hen now. She has a grown-up chick which is already a cockerel following her around. I was amused. These animals behave like humans at times. I know this much about chickens because we always have them for rearing till date. When a hen has only one surviving chick, she usually doesn't wean it early as she would do if they were many. Is that a way of pampering the chick because it is the only one?

We once had a neighbour, Baba Titi, who had chickens also. There were two of his hens which behaved like sisters and friends. They were always seen together. One was very productive, the other was not dilligent enough to keep her chicks (they had their chicks about the same time but she lost hers), so she was chickless. Now, the chickless hen would always take care of her friend's chicks as though they were hers. She would call to them when she saw food, she would share in covering them under her wings and would even rebuke them when they were wrong. Wasn't that funny?

And then we had some unserious hens. Either they sucked up their eggs or stepped on them and broke them so that they had few eggs left to hatch. There was a particular hen, she had only one egg left to finish her incubation with! There were some that would start with many chicks, but due to nonchalance would lose them to hawks or even step on them and get them killed. My dad referred to them as unmotherly mothers (in my language, "Wọn ò mọ ọmọ ọ́ tọ́jú"). Hens like this ended up in the pot before their time because there was no use keeping them. Usually, hens last longer than cocks because they make chicks, but for these exceptional cases, the story is different.

I remember some village chickens we had also. My dad brought them from our hometown. We kept them in their coop for days so they could get used to it and roost there every night. For where? These animals preferred to jump on trees in the compound to roost. They were sort of wild flying over fences. They were indeed village chickens. The funny part was that they taught some of our home chickens their weird ways.

But I love them especially the cocks which are always handsome. I delight in watching them and I love to feed them. At work one day, a colleague stretched and I asked him if he knew chickens stretch too. He laughed and said no. O yes, they stretch and they sneeze too, though my sister who is an agriculture specialist told me their sneezing could point to an illness. I know this much about chickens. Tell me if you know more. :)

DOUBLE FOR MY TROUBLE

It was compulsory for every student in my department to pay a fee called departmental levy every semester. Failure to do so would cost you important lectures and or exams (and you know what that means).

Before school resumed for a particular semester, I ensured I stood on my dad's neck to collect my departmental levy after which I left for campus. I was one of the first few (if not the first) to pay because classes had not resumed at the time I returned to school. Usually, when we paid at the bank, we were given a pink copy which served as the evidence of your payment at the department. Your receipt would be given you in exchange for this pink sheet. But somehow, I misplaced my pink sheet. I searched everywhere in my room, it was nowhere to be found. As a result, I could not go for the receipt on time.

I continued to hope to find the pink sheet as soon as possible. Before I knew it,  they were coming to chase out of lecture rooms those who had not paid. I tried in vain to explain to our level adviser that I paid already, but I had no evidence to prove. I was chased out as well. I cried. I cried because I had paid, just that I couldn't find the pink sheet. I decided to go meet with the head of department. I explained to him but burst to tears towards the end of my story. He lost his patience and sent me out of his office.

Later that day,  he (the HOD) announced that we had been pardoned till a certain time after which we would not be tolerated again. I was relieved and returned to class for lectures. But how would I find money to pay this fee a second time? Telling my father was out of it, what explanation would I give him?

Now, a big sister who finished three years ahead of me from my department had earlier sent some money into my account so I could collect her transcript for her. I saw the money as a way out hoping that I would be able to pay back before it would be time to get her transcript.  I re-paid the levy.

The Friday that followed the day I made the payment, the sister called. She was in town and had decided to collect the transcript herself. What would I do? Where would I get the money from? The departmental levy was half her money, thus I still had the other half in my account. I told her okay as if everything was fine that I'd see her the following week with the money. My head was calculating. I asked everyone I thought could be of help  to lend me some money, no way.  That Friday,  we had a vigil at the fellowship. While in the heat of worship/prayer, I would remember that I had some money to pay and my heart would skip, then I'd try to re-focus on the Lord.

The following two days, Saturday and Sunday,  I was busy running around for decorating materials as I was the Graphics Coordinator in my fellowship.  Monday was going to be October 1st (Nigeria's Independence) and we had virtually no decorating material then in the fellowship. All the while I was sourcing for decorating materials, I never forgot about the money, but I tried to stay my heart on the Lord. I had no idea who was going to lend me the money.

On Monday, we had a nice program at our fellowship's site to mark the Independence Day. The next day I switched off my phone and did not go to school (gratefully, lectures were over at the time).  I did this because I would not want a situation in which she would call my line and I would not pick her call. Later on in the day,  I decided to go to the bank, collect the remaining half and keep it. I still had hope that I'd be able to raise the money from people.

At the bank, I filled the withdrawal slip and gave it to the teller. He paid me and and gave me my copy of the slip. My balance was barely over 3000 naira. This must be dreaming! I should have 150 naira as balance, where did he get 3000 naira from? I left him and went over to the customer care corner.  I gave them my account number and requested for a statement of my balance.  It was the same as what the cashier wrote in the duplicate.  Okay, now it must be me that was dreaming. I concluded I would go back home and return the following day. If then I was paid 2500 naira, which was how much I needed, I'd know it was not a dream.

The next day I was paid and I had some changes left in my account. Could it be that an uncle paid into my account or my mum did, or was it an angel? And why did this happen just at the nick of time? In short, I switched on my phone, called to inform the sister I was coming to give her the money. She waited for me at the department. Maybe she was relieved,  maybe she had been wondering if I had spent her money. I handed her money to her and we were both happy.

Well, no-one that I know paid into my account and i was never called from the bank that someone mistakenly deposited into my accoint. I bless the Lord who spared me from shame and disgrace. He covered up for me and made a way where there was no way. Before I had this experience,  I only heard a similar story from Pastor Adeboye in one of his messages and I wondered how incredible it was (though I believed).

The conclusion of this testimony is that at the end of that semester after exams,  when there were not many students on campus,  I found the naughty naughty pink sheet hiding somewhere in a notebook. O my! I took it to the bank and boldly demanded for a refund, since I paid two times. They asked me to state my petition in a letter which I did. After a little ado, the money was refunded.  God gave me double for my troubles--I got the money paid back miraculously and eventually found the misplaced duplicate.   

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GEY 102

I studied Geology from a rocky department in Olabisi Onabanjo University, Ago iwoye in Nigeria. My department was renown for being tough, but I always told myself I was tougher. There was a pre-requisite course I offered in the second semester of my first year in the program. The day we wrote its exam, the head of department then came into the exam hall to address us. He made a remark that it would take a genius to finish all the questions within the stipulated time.  I checked through the questions and they didn't seem difficult to me. I mused to myself about how our lecturers delighted in intimidating students unnecessarily.

I answered almost every question and submitted happily, still wondering why the HOD made the questions appear tougher than they really were. Outside the hall, I observed students gathered in mini groups and many were lamenting. Why the laments when the questions were so simple? I did not know there was a big fire on the mountain. It was later I learnt from other coursemates that there were different instructions for different sections. Instructions like: if options A and B are correct choose C and some other funny and tricky instructions. O my God! I answered all the questions with just one instruction (the first one). I didn't know the questions were in sections, I didn't know there were other instructions apart from the first one. I only observed that I discovered a lot of the questions had more than one correct answer, for these questions I picked one correct answer for each. I knew immediately that except there was a miracle I already failed the course and the implication of failing the course was an extra year as it was pre-requisite to offering main courses in the second level. So I asked God to have mercy and wax a miracle for me. I had so much faith I was sure the Lord would do it. That morning I rushed out of my room without my quiet time.

When the result came out, a larger percentage of the class failed. I got 17%. Seeing my score, tears blurred my eyes, so I hurriedly left the campus to go back home. While on my way home (my house was not far from the campus so I trekked home), a big brother on a commercial motorcycle called out to me. It was his voice that made me know it was him, my tear-stained eyes could not see properly. Many things were running through my mind. How would I break the news to my father, what would it be like to have an extra year, why didn't God wax a miracle for me when He knew it was not intentional...?

Immediately I approached my room's door, I released the tears. I opened the door, jumped on the bed and wept profusely. But I refused to say any foolish thing to the Lord. Through the tears I was thanking Him for knowing exactly how I felt and because He alone understood why He did not cover up for my mistake. My dad heard at home. He talked and talked and talked. He later cooled down and started encouraging me. He even asked if I'd leave my school and go study as a pilot (there was one advert then on admission offers available for those interested in becoming pilots). I said no, that I would go through all I had to go through, that I wouldn't because I failed change schools. Many coursemates switched departments. I stayed put. This thing shook the whole school because almost everyone failed. The Vice Chancellor intervened, but our HOD would not budge.

But I thank the Lord for the grace to praise Him through that difficult time. There was a day like that at a fellowship mid-week meeting, I became overwhelmed and was weepy. I had to hurry out of the fellowship centre to escape to my house which was just a stone's throw from the centre. I got in the room, laid down on the floor and cried, thanking God through the tears.

I was not going for classes as regularly as GEY 102 was a pre-requisite to offering departmental courses in the second level. I was only going to the campus for general courses. One fateful day, I went to school. I was at the department that day to check some people and left. While I was on my way out of the school's premises, I met a friend who was of another department and he told me he saw my name on 'the' list at my department.

'Oh yes,' I replied. 'My name is on the list showing those who will not offer the 200 level deparmental courses.'

He shook his head stating that my name was on the board among those who would offer the 200 level departmental courses. This must be a joke! I thanked him and hurried off to confirm. As sure as the sun rises every morning, my name was there with some other coursemates' who also failed the course. I was speechless.

 Till today, I do not know how the Lord did it. Some said they used our grades to decide who amongst us that failed the course would be pardoned and allowed to offer 200 level courses. Some said other things. All I know was that the Lord changed my story and made the impossible possible. I sat again for that course and made a 'B'.