I HAVE DIED MANY TIMES AND RESURRECTED MANY TIMES BY GOD: The Road to my Autoplast Hip Surgery Transplant

Nwankwo T. Nwaezeigwe, PhD

President, International Coalition against Christian Genocide in Nigeria

 

On March 24, 2024, I was admitted to the prestigious Philippines General Hospital popularly known as PGH, Manila, for a pre-surgery medical examination for an autoplast hip transplant, after long tortuous medical tests that lasted more than three months; following the severance of the outer arm of my left femur linkage to my hip-joint, which I had carried painfully for six years running from one country to the other.

 

On March 27, three days after, at exactly 9 am I was ushered into the operating room for a surgery that was billed to take 3 hours but instead lasted 9 hours for the reason of complications resulting from over six years of my travails.

 

To the people and Government of Republic of the Philippines through the Department of Justice, PhilHealth and CFSI I owe greatly this unequaled magnanimity. It was a big victory designed by the hand of providence that in a country where Nigerians are notorious for cyber crimes and thus stigmatized, I was granted permanent residence status within eight months of my arrival.

 

I must not forget to express my unequaled gratitude to the most patriotic and noble Igbo man of Nnewi extraction, Anambra State,  Nigeria,  behind this initiative, Dr. Chukwuka J. Odunukwe, a man of profound native Igbo hospitality and immeasurable humility founded on unbound sense of intellectual creativity, and high ethical standard laced with unequaled debonair carriage; a man whom I best describe as Dsheikh Izuchukwu’s greatest gift to me.

 

Equally concerned and contributory to the success of this surgery with a strong bond of ancestral affinity are my beloved elder sister Etuifeonukwu, nee Nwaezeigwe, and my beloved brothers, Dinma Monyei and Stanley Elege. The Grace of our Lord Jesus Christ and the love of Almighty God shall always remain your portions.

 

Only few people close to my ordeal are aware that since January 2018 till date I have been walking with the aid of clutches, being  the consequence of my hip and leg fractures sustained during my escape from the Directorate of State Security (DSS), for no other reason than taking the Federal Government to the Federal High Court, Asaba in 2916 with the most respected legal luminary Elder Solomon Asemota of Benin Kingdom as my counsel, against the planned islamization of the country through imported jihadists who would be masquerading as Fulani herdsmen and bandits.

 

Today I stand vindicated by emerging episodes of our history as my prediction has not only come to pass but is still taking place with reckless abandon in Nigeria. This has always been my prayers: Father let me live and witness what I am suffering for.

And many people would tend to wonder why I continue to miraculously escape from my assailants from one country to another and continue to fight for the same cause for which I was wounded?

 

The reason is obvious.

Having died several times and God Almighty said “No, it is not yet your time, for I have ordained you to live beyond 90 years of age; Conscious of the fact that thousands of innocent Nigerians, including members of the military and police who did not even say a single bad word against the Oppressive Islamic Federal Government of Nigeria and their terrorist hirelings have been kidnapped and gruesomely murdered in cold-blood, with both the military and Police seemingly helpless at their obvious perils; and Fully assured by my God that all those who wished me dead, planned for my death and actually participated in seeking my death will ultimately meet their deaths before me, I  feel emboldened by both the Grace of God that has continued to live in me, and the Guardianship of the Holy Spirit to continue the battle, no matter those Christians who think I am not the rightful person to lead the noble cause.

 

I lived under a state of semi-paralysis from January to May 2018 when I finally escaped to Republic of Cameroon, with my broken hip and legs, sustained during my escape from President Muhammadu Buhari’s DSS.

 

Fleeing from Lagos after Dr. Frederick Faseun and Rear Admiral Godwin Ndubuisi Kanu, both are now late, were threatened by the DSS not to habor me any longer, I fled to the house of a supposedly trusted friend in Abba, Anambra State named Chief Uchenna Nweke a.k.a Ozowalu and Beke n’Abba for refuge.

 

Around 2 am dead night, this same trusted friend I  had already formalized the transfer of ownership of one of my BMW cars as a gift, invited the DSS to pick me up in his house and subsequently got me killed for a 5 million naira ransom.

 

Filling feverish danger in his outer reception room called Obi, where he had abandoned me to sleep, I rushed out and called out to him. I said, “ Ozowalu what’s the time now?” And he responded, “2 O’clock in the morning.” I had before then noticed a strange movement in the compound when I came out. I told him I would be leaving his house now, but he said no! It was too late for me to leave. I said okay, and quietly surveyed the compound but could not figure out the strange. Subsequently I moved towards the main gate. As soon as I stepped out of the gate into the street,  I noticed three heavy flashy torchlight pointed at me and ordering me to stop there or I would be shot. I did not take heed to their order and threat but instead took to my heels.

 

Running into the bush I knew not in the darkness of that deadly early morning known as “Odii n’abo” among my people, I fell into a deep ditch and subsequently passed out. Having been confirmed dead by my assailants, I was thereafter left to join my ancestors.

 

I was only rescued around the following 6 am after I had woken up and found myself unable to stand up on my feet in the bush, contemplating how I found myself there, by a young man who came into the bush to collect fodder for their goats and sheep. Possibly they might have heard me shouting; because I could remember shouting before I eventually passed out.

 

The young good Samaritan eventually called his mother and another woman who attempted to lift me up but could not because of my weight. They subsequent called Ozowalu my host as I directed. Ozowalu eventually brought another hefty young man, who subsequently brought me on his back out of  the bush to Ozowalu’s house already paralyzed. All the while, what Ozowalu could utter was “why did you have to run when you’re not familiar with the land?” All I could respond was, “Please Beke take me away from your house”; because I knew my assailants were still lurking around.

 

He opted to take me to my town but I declined the offer. because I knew that between Awkuzu Junction  and Onitsha Head Bridge anything could happen. Instead I opted to be taken to Adazi Nnukwu. He refused, Insisting on taking me to my people. He said okay, but that his jeep was faulty and that he would invite a friend of his to help me out with his car.

 

After persistent pressure, since my body system was constantly indicating extreme danger, his friend arrived with a Toyota Siena and when he attempted to  ⁸know our actual destination I told him I did not know the actual address but I know the place at Adazi Nnukwu and that I would direct him.  He said Okay.

 

Being that I am well conversant with all the road networks of Anambra State constructed from Chris Ngige through Dame Etiaba to Peter Obi, I was quick to take the initiative. I knew he would take the possible routes that would make it easier for the security officers to abduct me on the way, I directed him to take the Abba-Ukpo-Olympic Drinks-Abagana-Enugwu Ukwu-Ezi Elias-Adazi Nnukwu-Neni link road.

 

On getting to the Adazi Nnukwu bank of Idemili River where some Okada (Motorcycle) riders were stationed, I told him to drop me since there was ongoing road construction that would only permit access for Motorcycles. He insisted that his task was to take me to my actual destination, I refused.

 

The people there told him that since I said he should stop me there then he should not force me. He was thereafter forced to lift me on the Okada from his car. And when the Okada man asked where I   was going I told him “Oye Agu Adazi Nnukwu Square.” However, when we rode off I informed the Okada rider to take me to my godfather’s house, late Nze (Prof) ITK Ogbukagu in Nnukwu Village.

 

When we arrived at Prof Ogbukagu’s residence, his wife on seeing my condition and realized I could not walk but had to be lifted from the Okada, this most benevolent wife of a most benevolence man, “Odi Uko na Mba,”  true to her pet-name, burst into tears— weeping: “Tony is this you.” She immediately elected to take me to my hometown with her car, and consequently ordered his driver and one other young man to take me to my hometown and gave them money for fueling the car.

 

I knew that Adazi Nnukwu is one of the most locally policed towns in Anambra State with zero tolerance to criminality and being popular among the people as their consultant-historian, it would not be long before I was fished out. I  therefore saw her decision as a timely and welcome development. And true to my thinking, by the time we got to the Idemili River crossing separating Adazi Nnukwu and Nimo, the Police were already mounting roadblock in search of me. They even asked us if we saw any wounded man on Okada on our way; and of course we said no, and proceeded on our journey.

 

Immediately we crossed the bridge into Nimo side, I addressed the two young men and informed them that my real destination was not Ibusa my hometown but instead Igbakwu in Ayamelum Local Government Area of  Anambra State, where I knew another godfather, now late, Nze Anakwe, popularly known as “Obalande”, will be willing to receive me without question. The driver protested on the ground that the money provided for fueling would not be enough.

 

I knew I was having 5 thousand naira which I borrowed from Ozowalu for transportation to the  same Igbakwu, before he convinced me to sleep over in his house, since I was very tired that day; having traveled all the way from Lagos State through Ikorodu to Shagamu and dropping off after Ijebu Ode Toll Gate after noticing a DSS official making frantic calls on how to arrest me because of people around in the bus.

But the fact was that for more than seven days I was sleepless, running round from Delta to Anambra and back to Delta. Then to Edo, Lagos, Ogun, Ondo, Osun and Oyo States in my bid to escape to Benin Republic, but to no avail.

 

Indeed Chief Fred Agbeyegbe of NINAS/Lower Niger Congress (LNC), whom Rear Admiral Godwin  Ndubuisi Kanu had instructed to take care of me that Friday night since he was going for a function in the East, forced me out of his office around 11 pm and went home, after handing me over to the security man outside, with whom I eventually stayed throughout the night without sleeping until 3 am when I left to Obalande Bus Stop, from where I found myself through Ikorodu and Shagamu to the East.

 

So I quickly pleaded to give the two young men additional two thousand five hundred naira, to which they willing agreed. And off we went to Igbakwu.

 

The fact about my life is that nobody close to me will judge me as a bad man even though I unmistakably live with the imperfections of every mortal man; except those who see me from afar. They could describe me as stubborn to a fault but not evil. Even those at the opposite side of a conflict I am involved would often tell me that they like me except for the side I belong.

 

When we arrived at Obalende’s house, there was an uproar among his compound of three wives and many children. He asked me, “Odogwu is this you or another person?” I answered, “Obalande it is me.” He uttered, “Odogwu, madu egbukoro gi (Odogwu nobody will kill you). He immediately ordered his third and last wife to take care of me, and subsequently employed a local orthopedic expert to provide therapy for me. But my case was a complicated one, being that the outer wing of my left femur was cut into two at the hip joint.

 

After three days of my stay I noticed strange faces outside his normal customers interacting with his children in weird manners. Before I could fathom what was happening, his powerful Alusi (Deity) in his compound called Nne Nwanyi began to call me in the night. Unconsciously I would leave my sleep and try to jump over the fence into the shrine enclosure until his children would come to rescue me.

 

On the seventh day I informed him that I would be leaving for my hometown. He agreed but said there was no money to transport me. His third wife and my host agreed to lend me the sum of eigth hundred naira with the proviso that I should pay back  when I get to my destination and equally account for her son’s transportation back. Obalande’s eldest son equally supported me with fifty naira. No friendship is worth more than the other, both poor and rich.

 

I knew the enemies were on ground devising how they could enter Obalande’s house since he was feared among the people. They were then using some of his children to track me down. So I decided to specifically request for the Chairman of Okada riders in Igbakwu to convey me with   specific instructions.

 

Already I knew I was being monitored by an Okada man who quickly overtook us and reported to one of the Policemen at the first Bye-pass Junction that my name is Odogwu and that I was a wanted man. As we reached the checkpoint I was surprised to hear the Policeman say “carry on Odogwu.” He again raced past us and met the Policemen at Ezu River checkpoint and made similar report, but the Policemen only demanded for money and when I attempted to give them, the rider who was well known to them told me to put back my money.

 

As soon as my trailer found out that he could not convince the Policemen that I was a wanted person he turned back and returned to Igbakwu.  But I knew there were still dangers lurking ahead on the way, especially at Aguleri Junction. As soon as we got to Igbariam Junction I told the riders to enter the road and he quickly obliged.

 

We eventually burst out at Achalla Junction on Enugu-Onitsha Expressway by Awkuzu Junction. But before we got to the adjoining Police checkpoint, it was already getting dark, so I instructed the rider to transfer us to another Okada rider whom I perceived should be familiar with the Policemen at the checkpoint. So I paid him and bade him farewell for a job well done.

 

I tried to avoid the popular Awkuzu Junction on Enugu-Onitsha Expressway and instead opted for Oye Agu Abagana to Boromeo Junction. So I told the Okada rider to take us to Oye Agu Abagana Bus-Stop and to put us in an already ready-to-move Bus.

 

As soon as we arrived at  Oye Agu we spotted a bus and chased it into the Adjoining Petrol Station. As soon as we rode into the Petrol Station, I saw Ozowalu fueling his Nissan jeep at the filling station, may be in possible move to track me down at Aguleri Junction or somewhere else. I immediately instructed the riderto make a quick detour and off we Ieft the Filling State and boarded another bus to Boromeo Junction.

 

From Boromeo Junction we boarded another Okada to Head Bridge Onitsha, from where we crossed the Niger River with another Okada to  the West end of the Niger Bridge. From Asaba Niger Bridge end I instructed the rider to take me to the home of Akwue of Oko, Chief Fidelis Nwanze popularly known as De Bossman.

 

Like every other person who knew me and saw me in a condition of utter paralysis, his first question was “Odogwu is this you?” My response was simply, “please Akwue take me to where I would be treated of my fractures.” He said okay no problem. The following morning he settled my young guide, Nze Obalende Anakwe’s son as promised and the young man subsequently went back home. Nze Obalande eventually died in my absence.

 

Thereafter De Bossman took me to a bone therapist at Oko Ogbele where I noticed that my condition was beyond his capability. From that point De Bossman made contact with my people at Ibusa who blatantly accused him of being a scammer since my death at the hands of the DSS was a general knowledge.

 

It was after his reaction to that challenge over his integrity that my uncle and Head of our Village asked him if he was sure I was still alive, and he affirmed with an oath of integrity. Thereafter he sent his eldest son Brother Nnamdi with son e money and necessary provisions to visit me.

 

After two weeks I discovered that my therapist was already colluding with some people from Oko Anala to hand me over to the DSS. So I devised a means to leave him. Incidentally that was when my feeding money depleted. So I  informed him he should get an Okada man to take me to De Bossman to get more money. He agreed and arranged for an Okada to take me to Oko Amakom.

 

When we got there I clearly informed De Bossman that the Odogwu of Ibusa does not die on the war-front or outside his hometown and if indeed I would die let it be at my hometown. I therefore pleaded with him to take me back to my hometown. He agreed and subsequently chartered a taxi  to take me home around 9 pm..

 

That was how I eventually arrived at my Diokpa’s home where I stayed incognito for five months under the care of a traditional therapist who succeeded in putting one leg in order before I finally fled Nigeria through Oron to Republic of Cameroon, from where I faced further multiple episodes of Wilderness experience, eventually landing myself in the Republic of the Philippines.

 

Watch out for the full account in my coming book.

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