The Day Christ Died

One of the very few things i loved about my childhood was the ability to defy orders. Dad had been a carpenter who rarely spent time at home. Of course, his colleague, Joseph, a very tall masculine figure, did same. Big Joe, we called him, had learned humility from his birth. He rarely screamed, not even at his very young wife. You could pass the vicinity without noticing movements in the busy apartment. Their Son had been severally accused of introducing idol worship and proclaiming himself as God...a terrible crime, if you must ask me.

The anthill provided perfect cover for me and my sneaky activities. It was one of the numerous that could easily be spotted in Calvary. I had hurried to the deserted part of town, where thieves and thise who died violently, were buried. Today, we would call it "STADIUM", since it also served as an execution ground for the Jews and Romans.

Suddenly, the boo from the crowd got nearer. I could even decipher distinct voices. My shadow showed the time at about midday. The heat of the sun confirmed it. Then, I realised that I was hiding on a crucifixion territory. Soon, soldiers appeared, so did the criminals; one of which was the Son of Big Joe.

I had defied orders, Dad's, and sneaked to Golgotha, having heard that it was about to experience the most memorable event in the history of mankind. Certainly, with what i saw, it was.

Joseph's wife, Mary, who was still mourning the death of Big Joe a couple of festivals earlier, was stuck in the heart of another sorrowful event. Her Son, hmmmm, could now barely see. His eyes were almost covered out of consistent blows. A crown, of thorns, rested on his now shapeless head, causing blood to design his body like Da Vinci's painting of Sorrow. His deathbed, a wooden cross, sat unsquarely on his right shoulder. My dad's eyes flashed around, a lot of metres away from the party. Of course, the whole town was here!

Some defied the whips of soldiers to touch Him. Others fought the soldiers, even, just to dip a finger in his blood. The passageway left another crowd; those who had fainted, trying to touch him.

Then, i saw clearly, Joseph's son, as the brought him closer. What could he have done? I wondered. This style of execution was rrely used anymore. Even animals understood how painful and humiliating it had become. I also noticed two other men, carrying lighter crosses. They attracted less attention.

The heat of the sun had dried up some blood and served as the glue which attached His clothing to his dehumanised body. While i imagined how they would get them off him, a soldier kicked the cross, its carrier crumbled under it and blood began its journey again out of the multiple exits in his body. Another soldier hurriedly held His hand-woven Versace robe...did i say Versace? Maybe it was. They had a brief discussion. Certainly, they needed the robe, not in pieces. Hold on, how would they get it in full?

The man screamed. Cried. The soldier kept dragging the robe out...until the process was complete! When i saw His skin, I vomitted! Torn from whips and the strip, some parts of it exposed bones and ligaments in His body. The Man fainted.

His limp body was dragged unto his deathbed, the cross. Little wonder this man loved making miniature crosses whenever he visited my dad's carpentry shop. Joe had cautioned Him against it, yet, He mysteriously called the process "The making of the Messiah's deathbed". That, was a prophecy; HE WAS THE MESSIAH!

A soldier, dressed in execution robes, armed with a hammer and a nail, probably longer than the 6 inch nails in dad's workshop, squatted beside his right hand. Wait! What was he doing? They used to tie the criminals to the cross! This man was about to be nailed. While i kept considering what he was about doing, the executioner placed the tip of the monster nail between the two tendons on the Man's right arm, just beneath where the outstretched palms ended. He received cheers from the watching crowd. I saw him raise the hammer and strike!

Blood flew from the wound. As the executioner aimed his weapon for another strike, i fainted!

"Eli, Eli, lama sabacthani", Joe's Son screamed. This scream brought me out of my coma. I had laid unnoticed for hours behind the anthill. Everyone watched this Man who had said He is immortal.

Suddenly, time was altered! Darkness had come earlier than usual. In fear, i hurried out, defying the wind. I ran to the temple. On getting there, my friend, Alban Arimathea, son of another Joseph, hid behind a giant desk...so, i joined him. The wind seemed to have arms, as it stripped the temple bare of all clothings. I heard earthquakes outside and i heard humming sounds...daddy later said, it was from the graveyard behind the temple grounds...the resurrection of the righteous!

Anxious to see the process of crucifixion to the end, i ran out of the temple, bck to my hiding place...this time, with Alban. I later learnt his father had provided his grave for Joe's son to be laid.

The soldiers defied the wind and waited, so did I and Alban. Then, the anthill crumbled and i found myself facing a crowd of onlookers. Some ran away, thinking we were ghosts, but my dad did not. The Man on the cross coughed their attention away from me, mumbled something and dropped His head to the other side. That day, i witnessed the death of the Messiah!

I am an i~Witness.