Sent Back to Life
I was traveling on business from Port Harcourt to Lagos, Nigeria, when I woke one morning with a severe illness. I had the hotel call an ambulance, which rushed me to the nearest hospital. I was explaining my condition to the doctor when suddenly everything went black.
I awoke in a dream. I was in a very long, fast-moving line. All the people were passing through a checkpoint. But when my turn to pass came, I was pulled aside and sent back by a slim white man.
When I woke up, I was told I had just spent the previous ten days in a coma. The hospital had refused my body and sent me to another clinic, believing that all hope was lost. The clinic in which I found myself was a teaching clinic, and the doctors were only studying my body. They had cut the toe of my right legthe only place where a single vein was still aliveand set up an intravenous drip. They did not expect me to revive.
I stayed in the clinic an additional three days before I was discharged. The doctors said my recovery was truly amazingan act of God. Friends and relatives in Lagos began to call me by a different form of my name to signify my rebirth into life.
When I finally traveled back to Port Harcourt, my wife could not believe I was alive. She'd had an experience the night I blacked out. She had awakened to the sound of someone knocking on the door. But when she opened it no one was there. It must have been a dream, she said to herself. She walked outside to calm herself and heard my voice calling her. Seeing no one, she ran back inside the house full of fear.
Later that night I appeared to her in the dream state. I told her certain people were behind my death and warned her to look at the behavior of these people during the funeral arrangements. She even remembered seeing the coffin that contained my body.
Actually, I knew I had gone into the beyond during this experience. I never forgot the face of the white man who sent me back to life, but I refused to tell anybody about the experience.
In Africa, we believe that ancestors can sometimes send children, who meet untimely deaths, back to life. Folklore has it that the child then owes some kind of debt to the Soul on the other side.
I thought this was what happened to me, but I did not believe I had ever been related to a white man. How did this come about? The question repeated itself to me many times, but no answer came. I never asked anybody because I knew they couldn't give me a satisfactory answer.
Then in February of 1985, I attended my first Eckankar gathering at Port Harcourt. I read brochures and attended several ECK activities. Later that day, I decided to follow the path of Eckankar. It did not occur to me that my experience with death was linked to Eckankar until recently. Yet it came as a fire into my heart when I read the ECKANKAR Journal. There I saw a picture of the Mahanta, Sri Harold Klemp. The slim man that saved my life was the Living ECK Master!
The Master was with me and protected me even before I knew about Eckankar. I know the love and protection of the Mahanta is very real.