Precious’ call made the fifth directorate to know that what was at hand was beyond what Precious alone could handle. Though she tried to sound confident, there was something in her that yearned for help.


‘’Don’t leave the safe house until the next instruction,’’ was the last things he said to her. It been three days since she spoke to her boss. He hadn’t called since then and it was beginning to trouble her.

At about 4:30 pm on the third day, he called. ‘’Help on the way. Stay put,’’. He didn’t allow her say anything before he ended the call. Ten minutes later, the door to the safe house opened and she saw three people entered.


An olive-skin and black-eyed lady entered first. She was young and slim, a bit shorter than Precious. Precious was trying to place a name to that face but couldn’t.

This girl must be new in the DSS. She concluded. The lady before her was a Nigerian Jew, a third generation descendant of Auschwitz-Birkenau concentration camp survivor.

At Sharon Onochie’s ancestral Anambra hometown – Anaocha, many believed her great grandfather, David Onoichie must have used the Arigbe leaf – a leaf believed to have mystical power that softens a woman’s heart – to win Ahuva Abbot’s heart.

In 1948, Felix was flown to Hadassah Medical Centre, Ein Kerem, Jerusalem for a deep hypothermic circulatory arrest, a surgical technique, also known as stand-still surgery, to correct a defect in one of his left vertebral arteries.

The procedure involves lowering the body temperature to around 14oC to stop circulation and brain functions.

This reduces rupturing of the arteries and of brain damage. In a way you were clinically killing the patient, and you have to bring him back to life in under 45 minutes. It was a delicate one.

The operation went well. He was recovering fine. He was told to stay some weeks back to monitor his progress.

During his recovery period, he met Ahuva, an auxiliary nurse assigned to attend him – to take care of the cleaning of his room and changing of his bedding.

He loved the way she did her job but she appeared traumatized, a terror was hidden in her body. She behaved like one haunted by fear. Moved by compassion, he decided to speak to her on one of her visits.

‘’You are doing a wonderful job, but you always look sad. Hope there is no problem?’’
‘’I am fine,’’ she struggled to mumble, did her work faster than usual, and left.

The next time she came, he tried to talk to her again, and went a step further by touching her left arm. She twitched as she drifted away. This made his kind heart burdened.

The following day as she was cleaning, with all the courage he could summon he said ‘’ you know, no matter how bad whatever you are going through, or might have gone through may be, you shouldn’t allow that shape your future.

That you survived, that you are still alive, means God has a better future for you’’
With the fury of a raging lion she turned and barked, ‘’God is dead.

He couldn’t be alive to have watched that pig wasted the people he called His.’’ It was similar to being on the edge, a bomb counting to detonation time.

With that she broke down in racking sobs. He knew he was in for it. A crying lady, one of the few things most men are unable to handle.

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