GLASS PRODUCTION AND HARDSHIP
Did you know that when sand is heated to a temperature of 1,400°F, it liquefies and becomes molten? I’m not sure if that’s in Fahrenheit or Celsius, but at 1,400°, the sand transforms. Once molten, it flows into metallic molds, usually made of copper. After cooling under controlled temperature conditions, it forms glass containers. If wires are added inside, they can be used to form tempered glass. If not, plain glass is formed, which can be used for windshields and other applications. I was once the resident medical officer of an international glass company, so I know what I am talking about.
Diamonds require extensive scrapping and filing before they can be set into necklaces and displayed on shelves. Gold, too, goes through significant purification. Hardship refines us. I have a book titled Refined by Hardship.
I started this life of hardship very early. I used to sell firewood and hawk porridge made from maize in the mornings before going to school. Back then, we had morning and afternoon sessions of school. I roasted and sold cow skins. My palms are very hard from all this work. I usually don’t eat breakfast because there was no breakfast at home; we had to wait for afternoon and evening meals.
Something significant happened when I was 25 years old in December 1984. My father was in an accident on the 24th or 25th. I had just started my medical practice internship when he was injured, suffering a spinal cord injury. I remember the last time I saw him standing erect. He was 80-something but still very strong, as we have strong genes. I advised him to stop moving around so much and to enjoy his life. However, he didn’t listen to my counsel and went for a religious activity—not a church service, something else. The car had a burst tire in front, the driver slammed on the brakes, the vehicle somersaulted, and my father fell out. The vehicle landed on him, fracturing his spinal vertebral column and damaging his spinal cord at the cervical level.
I had to carry him and admit him to the hospital. He was there for 50 days. In the beginning, I was told to buy a traction kit. This kit would be strapped to his legs, tied to the foot of the bed, with the head lowered so his body weight would pull on the traction to try to decompress the spinal cord. That kit cost 59 or 15 naira, but I hadn’t been paid for three months. I was living at number 20 School Road and had to trek from there through ACC Road down to Ajamu near Word of Life Church to meet a man named Bordo. He lent me the money. I couldn’t afford to take a taxi back. Recently, when I drive past those places, I keep remembering where God has taken me from. It makes me value relationships and money. It also makes me realize the effort I had to put in as a young man after those incidents to ensure my children do not experience the same stress and lack.
When I set out to meet the man, I didn’t know if he would be at home or agree to lend me the money, but I set out anyway. Since then, I have taken decisions and risks without being sure of what will be between where I am starting and where I am going. But I have had strong hope and faith to get there. That’s how I went to university without an admission letter. That’s how I told my wife’s elder sister that I would marry my wife, even though she was pregnant, and I was an unbelieving young man. I was badly behaved. She was pregnant, and I only had 54 or 45 naira in my bank account.
I went back to Aba and saw patients in patent medicine stores on U.A. Road, charging 59 kobo per consultation. I would trek from U.A. Road to Number 810 Park Road near Ambassador Hotel just to save the 10 naira I earned. That’s how I managed to save 3,100 naira when the dollar was 2 naira, equivalent to $6,200 then, which enabled me to marry my wife. None of my brothers contributed anything. It was the same Mr. B who lent me his K.B.I. bus to carry drinks and other items for the wedding.
I learned to walk alone through hardship. I learned to step out and take action, even when uncertain. I realized that God is waiting ahead for you. The same God who took me from nothing to something, who made me known, will also help you. Don’t faint; dare to step out, dare to walk alone, and dare to have hope. God bless you.
I am your friend, Dr. Charles Apoki
