Lately I’ve been having nightmares courtesy of some of my readers who are intent upon ensuring I do not renege on giving out the prizes for The Medallion Easter bonanza; in one nightmare, I saw a Bollywood williwilli growling “Meee-daaa-llioooon…PRIZE!” and in another one, I was arrested and when it was time for my hands to be bound, the cop pulled out a Medallion.smh.
So, I have succumbed (this one bad pass my village people abeg). As you know, we only have a winner for Prize 1, all of you go and carry last for the second one. My Prize winner though is Walter Uche Ude, better known in these spheres as Walter Shakespearean Ude (WaltShakes). It was a delight for me when I saw his entry as first commenter because I was already a fan of his writing and here was an opportunity for us to meet (oh, that was a clause for the prize I didn’t want to commit to from the start before some of you will go and pay one BH boy in Bornu to run and be first commenter).
Anyhu, Walter and I met up yesterday afternoon here in Lagos for the prize-giving ‘ceremony’. I’d like to tell you that we first saw ‘Half of a Yellow Sun’ then proceeded to Kilimanjaro before doing KFC and Calabar Kitchen in one summary swoop. But we just sat and talked, and boy, was it more fun! It had just rained one of those muddy annoyances the Lagos skies are capable of on a bad day but after gisting and laughing so hard with Walter, my day was considerably perked up. Walter is gifted, funny and very ‘gisty’, a good friend already. He is also one of the few guys I know who are lighter-skinned than I am; at least the next time a conductor at Ojuelegba calls me ‘yellow’, I can say “wait till you see Walter!”
It was a full-blown ceremony oh! There was an intro, we both made speeches bordering on just about all topics from writing to modelling agencies in Okoko, then for paparazzi, we asked a good Nigerian (or was she Cameroonian, Walts?) to take a few pics. We finished it off Oscar-style on the way out when we took our own ‘celeb selfie’. For those of you who didn’t know, where two heads and more are gathered in a selfie, there a celeb selfie is; thank God for that unknowing gentleman in the background. 🙂
Walter blogs at “My Mind Snaps” – www.mymindsnaps.com and you can bug him on twitter @Walt_Shakes. He graciously agreed to do the following review for The Medallion; I like to think I was so charming he couldn’t refuse but I’m sure he is just showing off ;). Anyhu…enjoy!
THE MIRACLE OF THE MEDALLION
You start out reading The Medallion, believing it’s going to be an Easter story, one that encapsulates the persecution of Christ, His crucifixion, and then His rising.
But then you follow the story, you trace the unraveling of the narration, and you’re drawn into the mind of this commoner – Rufus, an erstwhile Nazarene criminal, one who knows the wiles of the streets as an only way of life. You are led – as he is – to the acknowledgement of a mission. The hunt for something priceless. A quest that is on some level driven by a desire for the invaluable. A tar of self-interest tainting the otherwise incredibly selfless import of the story of Christ’s sacrifice.
And that is when you get distracted from your objective. Your focus is shaken by the intrusion of the persecution of the Son of Man. Those blood-riven scourges that mark the back of the condemned man. The cruel and jubilant delirium of the crowd over the man’s torture. The apparent seal of Heaven and Earth on his suffering. You are repulsed by it. Yet you are drawn to it. You fight your grief. You feel the weight of sadness. You share the aching pain of that mother who watches, helpless, as her child is mauled by the bloodthirsty soldiers and rabid crowd. Your heart cringes with every lash. Your fists curl at every taunt. You wish you didn’t have to witness this. You do not want to be here. You have the medallion to find. Your very own precious.
But more precious is He who bears the tribulations of the world up to the Hills of Golgotha, where He is nailed to a cross and bared to all – the glory of His crucifixion.
And with His passing, you’re right back on the scent of the mission – the hunt for the Medallion. Where might it be? The foothold of the cross that held up the King of the Jews? Perhaps hanging from the plumage of one of the formidable centurions? Or tucked away in the clothes that swaddled the afflicted body of Jesus as he carted off to His tomb. Aha! It just had to be in there – the tomb, nestled amongst rocks and pebbles, glinting softly in the darkness, waiting to be dug out of the slight rubble once the Roman guards were away and the soul was too far gone from the body inside to tell any tales of your invasion.
And then, Jesus the Christ rose from the dead, ablaze with His incandescent glory. A fulfilled testament of the prophetic words “…and on the third day, He shall rise.” And afire with the promise of the life that would be given to His ministry.
That is when you realize that you’ve lost. The find of the Medallion isn’t logical. It isn’t a consequence of reasoning. It defies all that. It is divine. It is magical. The miracle of Easter happened for the people who would later be called Christians. It also happened for Rufus, enclosed, a gleaming bundle, in the folds of his robes.
And it also happened for me, the one who was the first to drop a comment on the thread of the eventual episode of The Medallion.