By MuyiwA Adetiba
The mortal body of Monsignor Pedro Ayodele Martins, the first Nigerian chaplain of the Nigerian Army, the oldest Lagosian to be ordained a priest, and the oldest priest in Africa, was finally laid to rest last week in a week long ceremony that involved the entire Arch Diocese. It also had many former residents of 1004 Estate and ex-military officers in attendance. He was aged 103. He was also a priest for over 70 incredible years.

Although I had heard so much about him as many accounts on the civil war mentioned his name, Monsignor Pedro Martins was already old and frail when I eventually ‘met’ him. It happened when I changed my parish to St Charles Borromeo in Victoria Island. And you could not attend that parish without ‘knowing and meeting’ the revered priest.

As stories had it, he conceptualised and built the church— a small, but aesthetically beautiful and compact building on 1004 Estate premises. He also shepherded and patterned it after his beliefs which included the good, old-fashioned Latin mass -all solemn and reverential. Not in St Charles, up till this day, will you see exuberant displays and loud clapping. It’s fair to say that his heart and soul never really departed the little church decades after he physically left as Parish Priest. And now, his spirit would probably never leave it.

Stories about him abound for new comers and you have to be deaf not to hear them. The consistent ones are about his temper, his strong sense of discipline, his love for order and beauty and his incredible ear for music. Out of sheer curiosity, I went to get his biography about four years ago.

The book confirmed what I had always known; that he was indeed a man of history. He had a good one-on- one relationship with many actors in the first republic including the Prime Minister, Alhaji Tafawa Balewa. And being a military officer, he had a good relationship with the ruling elite of the first military government and often acted as advisor/ confessor to many. You could almost say from the book, that he saw the war coming and was a passive participant in the unfortunate Civil War. I was also struck by his wit, his candour, his courage and his intellect.

Seeing him being wheeled to the church on special occasions as his birthday, his ordination anniversary, or Easter, it was hard to relate the man to the lore. It was also hard to relate the frail man who could no longer hold an handkerchief, to the energetic man who according to his biography, swam the lagoon easily.

For a man who dominated his environment, and who was known for his impatience, the last few years when he had to completely depend on others, must have been torture. You are immediately consoled however, by the fact that his longevity and subsequent incapacitation, would have given him more than enough time for atonement and to make peace with his maker. In any case, he had done his bit and the many firsts he had achieved cannot be taken away from him. The role he played, and the influence he had in the church, the military and the secular world at large, will outlive him. Those who openly admit he influenced their decisions to go into priesthood are also there to carry the torch.

My take here is that the tolling of the bell, which announces the dead, is actually for the living. It is not to wake up the dead but to serve as a wake-up call for those who are still alive and can still alter the way they choose to live their lives.

This much was emphasized by the officiating priest whose theme is the title of this article. Many of us make choices as if we will live forever. Yet the only thing that is certain is death. We strut about in pomp and power forgetting that not only is power transient, life itself is transient.

I am reminded of a story which was sent to me during the week. It was about the industry, ingenuity but folly of an ant. This little ant which was carrying a large, dry leaf encountered many obstacles on the way. By sheer industry it was able to overcome them. The most significant one was when it got to a crack on the floor and didn’t know how to pass with the leaf. After going round many times, it simply positioned the leaf in such a way that it became a sort of bridge on the crack and the ant walked to the other side. Alas! after all the work, the ant finally got to its destination only to find that the hole, its home, was too small for the leaf and had to reluctantly abandon it.

There are many lessons to be learnt from this simple story of course; lessons of industry, perseverance and guile. But the one for today is the need to fix our sight on the end game as a friend would put it. Many of us carry the burdens and baggage of life as if they will not be abandoned at the six feet hole which is too small for anything but our lifeless body. The officiating priest enjoined us to discover our purpose in life and use it to serve humanity. I think it is a good advice.

The shocking death of Prof. Dora is a good example of how ephemeral life is. This time last year, she was alive and bubbly. Today, she is gone. What I remember about her was her passion to make Nigeria a safer place although it grieves me when high profile public figures die in foreign hospitals.

The bell tolls every day reminding us of the need to put our houses in order; of the need to leave a legacy; of the need to touch lives positively. It also reminds us of the vanity of life.