OluwaDunsin (My God is Worthy of My Adoration).

This photo means a lot to me not just because of the compositional brilliance and lighting of the photo but the moment and the story behind this moment (Light, moment and composition- photography students should understand this. PS: Ash Robins nailed it all).

I remember in my final year in the university when I was called that my mother had an accident and she was rushed to the hospital in critical condition, her head broken and her body badly mangled. My siblings had had the foresight not to inform me early enough as they thought it would hamper my chances of doing well in my final exams. Eventually they told me and I rushed down to the hospital to see my beloved mother, almost unrecognisable. My heart sank at the thought of losing her especially at a time when I knew I needed her the most. God hears our cry and preserved her life even until this day; for her to be there on arguably the most important day of my life was something I could give anything for. I was and still am grateful to God.

Fast rewind to a few years back, my ever reliant, bubbly and jovial brother was going somewhere in his university and suddenly, he fell. From that moment until when he woke up in a hospital in Benin Republic, he wasn’t aware of anything going on. He was in coma for weeks. In between, my family has rushed him to a hospital in Nigeria where he received treatments but all to no avail. I was certain we would lose him at some point. I could swear to it. Eventually after everything, the spending and treatments, we decided to bring him home and exercise our faith in God.

But for God.

One moment I will never forget at home, was when he reached for me and told me to beg God to let him die cos his suffering was a little too much. That day I wept. I hadn’t cried throughout that whole period when it was happening but that day my heart could no longer take it. He was naked, he couldn’t wear clothes and so he could care less who saw him that way. All that mattered was whether he would live or die. I saw first hand the frailty of human life. It took the intervention of God to save him. In the hospitals, his blood pressure was something around 240/120 at age 20 or so. Sometimes the nurses would test him and run away because they were scared that he would die in their hands. Ah. God did it.

I and Fofo (my brother) were practically twins. We grew up together, played together, wore andco, fought severally, bickered and loathed each other at some point. But he was always there, in every moment and in every way. I never felt like his little brother. I felt like his twin. Growing up, I never thought for a second that there would come a time that I could possibly lose him. It was all too much, but for God.

Seeing him standing in the place of my father, who was unavoidably absent, was a thing of joy for me. I couldn’t be happier. God stood up for me at a time when it mattered the most.

If you ever see me not serving this God, then it only means I am dead and the person you’re seeing is not me because where would I have been if not for God?