1998. A soldier put his gun on my chest during the Abacha years. Led students on aluta. Bonfires everywhere. Soldiers were called out. One pulled out his gun. Face to face. I could feel his breath. The students I led abandoned me.Turned my back and ran. I lived to tell the story

Had a fatal accident in a bus at Awolowo junction at Bodija. Brake failure with bus on high speed. Somersaulted many times. Finally stopped with tyres in the air. I briefly lost consciousness. Then, I had the morbid fear of being burnt alive. I could see smoke. I crawled out through a window. Bleeding but I didn't even know. I started running. Then, I remembered my friend, DJ Korea was in the bus. I ran back to rescue him. I shouted his name until he crawled out. Six people were cold. Dead. I lived to tell the story.

2009. Going to work at Apapa. Coming from Yaba where I lived. Slow moving traffic at Tin Can Coconut. A guy in traffic. Supposedly selling gala or handkerchiefs. Green bag draped around his neck. I was half awake. Time was around 7am. Guy walked to my driver's side. I was seated in front. He knocked the window. Put his hand in his bag. Brought out a gun. Banged on the window. My driver was discombobulated. Elijah was his name. Confused. Scared. The guy thought we were uncooperative. It all happened very fast. He aimed his gun at me. Pulled the trigger. Time wasn't enough to say any prayer. The click was loud. The gun jammed. He looked at the gun. He looked at me. He took another aim. Pulled the trigger again. I was twice lucky. No, I was twice saved. By grace. I saw fear on his face. He started running. Jumped the median. Ran through traffic towards the ocean. I lived to tell the story.

2011. Going to work around 6am. Gave my sister in-law a ride. Around Customs Street, Yaba- not far from UNILAG- we saw a melee. Cars screeching. Bedlam. It was too late. I saw the guy. Right in front of our car. With bullets wrapped around him. Like the movies. Except that this was not a movie. Robbers. Fully armed. Shooting everything that moved. Had no time to think. I jumped out of the car. On motion. Forgot my driver. Forgot my sister in-law who sat at the back. Everyone for himself. God for us all. I ran. Under a hail of bullets. Dodging cars that were trying to make a u-turn. Grateful none hit me. I saw a mosque. It was the time of the Muslims call to prayers. I ran into the mosque. All the worshippers scattered. My trousers torn. My sister in-law couldn't escape. She was strapped in her seat belt. Robbers came. Saw her. Ransacked the car. But left her. We lived to tell the story.

In anosecond I saw my life pass before my eyes as an oncoming, out-of-control Camaro crossed into my lane. I did all I could to avoid the impact, while thinking, Oh, God, this is how I'm gonna die."

But then I didn't.
The pulverizing sound of the crash was less frightening that the thought of what we would look like afterward.
The little economy car was totaled.
Despite a severe whiplash and bruises, I managed to get out from behind the crooked dash, unbuckle the children in the back seat—crying and shaken but okay—and walk away.

That day, and for weeks after, I grew in gratitude for the preciousness of life amidst harrowing flashbacks and "what if's?"

Exceed15:
I was quite Young then. I went to bar Beach in Lagos during festive period and entered the water swimming then lost my balance. I saw myself going.. I mean I was being carried away by tide. All of a sudden a man sighted me and a very good swimmer.. started swimming against the tide towards me and held my hand. Pulled me on his back and brought me out. May God continually bless the man in Jesus name.