I have never been one to succumb to emotion. In fact, for as long as I can remember, I have prided myself on my ability to keep my feelings at bay, no matter the circumstance. Life’s challenges, its heartbreaks and frustrations, have always found me resolute, unmoved by the currents that might wash others away in a tide of tears. I suppose it comes with the territory, as someone whose work demands a certain degree of emotional distance. To the world, I am the “hard guy,” stoic and composed. But recently, something—or rather, someone—changed that.
On December 27th and 28th, the seemingly impenetrable walls I had built around my emotions came crashing down. Captain Marvin Abe, a man whose career and character I deeply respect, found a way to reach the tenderest part of my soul, evoking tears I didn’t know I had left in me. These were not just casual tears; they flowed freely, and by the time the torrent subsided, my head ached from the depth of the experience. How did this happen?
To offer a brief introduction, Captain Abe is the Managing Director of Apapa Bulk Terminal Limited (ABTL), a port-operating arm of Flour Mills Plc. His seafaring journey is nothing short of extraordinary. Before his current role, he served as Deputy Director at the Nigerian Maritime Administration and Safety Agency (NIMASA), and before that, he built a rich career at the defunct Nigerian National Shipping Line (NNSL), Nigeria Liquefied Natural Gas (NLNG), and Pacific International Limited (PIL), among others. At a young age, he had already attained the rank of Master on some NLNG vessels, a testament to his brilliance and grit in a demanding industry.
Though I don’t remember meeting Captain Abe until a few years ago, when he took the helm at ABTL, I had already grown to admire him from afar. Since his appointment, we have become somewhat close, and he has earned my deep respect. Yet, despite this, I had not mustered the courage to visit him in his office—a hesitation born not out of intimidation, but rather, sentiment. His two predecessors, Captain Emmanuel Omotayo and Captain Mohammed Bashir, had been my dear friends, both of whom passed away while in office. Their untimely deaths, especially Captain Omotayo’s in 2013, shook me to the core, making the visit to that office an emotionally charged experience for me.
Captain Abe, however, has a calm, unassuming presence. His quiet strength compelled me to accept his invitation to the launch of his novel, “The Voyage of Saints”. In his typically understated way, he sent me a simple, gracious message:
“Please take this as a formal invitation to my inaugural book launch. This novel was written in honour of a very special woman. It’s a true life story fictionalised to make a very pleasant read. I would deeply appreciate your support.”
I was determined to attend, and thank God I did. I received a copy of the book and planned to read it over the holiday season. Initially, I anticipated finishing the 366-page novel in a few hours—after all, I’m a fast reader. But as fate would have it, my schedule was tight, and I didn’t dive into the book until December 27th, on a flight. From the moment I began, I was captivated. By the time we landed, I was already halfway through. That evening, I continued reading, but what started as casual perusal quickly became an emotional journey that left me utterly shaken.
“The Voyage of Saints” is not just a book. It is an intimate, heart-wrenching account of Captain Abe’s early life, and most poignantly, his relationship with the enigmatic Lami. It tells of a love so pure, so powerful, that it stands in stark contrast to the cruelty he endured from those closest to him. As I read, I wept. I wept for him, for Lami, and for the unimaginable trials they faced. His family, whom he had every right to expect would support and protect him, turned against him with a ferocity that defies comprehension. His was a modern-day Joseph story, though in some ways, worse. Not only did they betray him, but they also destroyed everything he held dear, including his beloved wife.
It is often said that betrayal never comes from enemies, but from those who know us best. There is no wound deeper than the one inflicted by those we trust with our hearts. Captain Abe and his wife, Lami, endured this pain in the harshest of forms. After losing six children to a series of tragic miscarriages, Lami herself succumbed to the cruelties of life, passing away long before her time. The sorrow of it all was overwhelming. I cried not just for the loss of life, but for the loss of hope, for the years of love and dreams that were so unjustly stolen from them.
Yet, through this profound grief, Captain Abe’s resilience shines through. In “The Voyage of Saints”, he not only recounts his journey but also seeks, perhaps, some measure of closure. Twelve years after Lami’s death, his story is a testament to human endurance. It is a powerful reminder that even in the face of betrayal, loss, and heartache, we must find the strength to keep moving forward.
Aye aye, Captain! I salute your courage, your honesty, and your unwavering fortitude. Your story moved me to tears, but more importantly, it inspired me. “The Voyage of Saints” is not just a book for those interested in seafaring or maritime history, though it certainly offers rich insights for aspiring deck officers. It is a story for anyone who has ever loved, lost, and struggled to rise from the ashes of their own pain. It also serves as a damning commentary on the downfall of the Nigerian National Shipping Line (NNSL), a shipwreck orchestrated by greed and the myopia of political leaders—an analysis that aligns with my own views, as expressed in my book, “Arrested Development”.
Captain Marvin Abe’s story is one that deserves to be told, shared, and remembered. It is a voyage of love, loss, betrayal, and ultimate survival. For all who read it, prepare to be stirred.
