My sister’s son fell when he was one year old and he lost a tooth. He bled for hours and was taken to the hospital where he was diagnosed of hemophilia. That was our first encounter with such a condition. The hospital tried their best and later discharged him to be taken to the Teaching Hospital, at a time they knew the hospital was on strike. On her way back, my sister stopped by my house because the boy had bled so much that he passed out. His hands were dangling, his eyes were rolled in and his colour had turned bluish. My sister said, “Take him and bury him or do what ever you like with him,” as she handed me the baby.

I shouted, “He is alive.” When I think of it today, I actually don’t know if I meant Jesus or the boy at that point. I ran into the street, picked a bike (then bikes were still operating), and eventually I went to two hospitals but they turned us down after checking his pulse. I went to a third hospital and after checking his pulse they said they could not attend to him because the medical director wasn’t around. However, someone told me that the doctor was in. So I went close to his door and said, “Please doctor, all I am asking is that you take a look at this boy, he is not dead, he will live in the name of Jesus.” The doctor came out and took the boy from me. After checking his pulse, he warned that he had a very little chance of “making it.” I maintained that he was going to make it. My mind was set on what God had done for Pastor Nkechi and her second daughter when she was a baby. I knew if God could do it for her, He was no respecter of persons and so would do it for me. Hours after admission, they couldn’t transfuse blood because they couldn’t locate any vein. Miraculously, God still kept him hanging in there until they shaved his head and located a vein through which they transfused blood. Shortly after that, he came alive and said the only word he knew “water.” That meant everything to me! It meant he was alive even though he was still bleeding. I gave him food and water and by 9:00 p.m., we were discharged to go to The Teaching Hospital again.

Since I ran out without knowing where I was going, my sister and her husband did not know where I had taken the boy. So, I had to send words to them, through the cyclist who had opted to wait for us all this time. They joined us later and since the hospital had discharged us to go to Teaching Hospital, amidst prayers and tears, we were able to find another doctor at Onne, who was willing to admit the boy and at about 2:00 a.m., we got there. The doctor decided to transfuse plasma to aid in clotting. Repeatedly, the vein would collapse and it would take yet hours to find another vein. In the midst of all these, we kept speaking the Word and reminding God that what He has done for one, He would do for another. By 6:00 a.m., he had taken the required quantity of plasma with the doctor holding down the needle throughout the duration of the transfusion. God led us to a doctor whom God used to save the boy’s life. He forfeited his sleep all night because he had to hold down the needle in place till the plasma was transfused.

The baby lived and He’s alive today because the Word of God is true. Indeed, what He did for Pastor Nkechi, He did for us. Bobby Ubong’s life even till today is a testimony of the power of the Word of God. Many doctors said they had only read of the condition in medical books. I thank God for keeping him alive and I want to say a big thank you to Pastor Nkechi again and again.