How I Almost Drowned in Ofunama River – A Humorous True Story

By Prince Agbedeyi O. D. for Egbema Egberi Media International 

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In the year 1993, I had just returned home to Ofunama for the holidays. I was a student at Baptist High School, Benin City — sharp uniform, shiny shoes, and an unshakable teenage confidence. Life was simple. Life was sweet.

But two days before I was to return to school, something unforgettable happened. Something wet. Wild. And, well… very funny now (but not then).

I had gone to the river to cross over and answer the call of nature — a common village routine. I grabbed a small canoe and paddled across.

Halfway through, I saw it.

A large Lagos-bound boat (or "sheep" as we called them) was approaching fast. Its waves were monstrous. The next thing I knew — boom! — the wave hit my tiny canoe like a slap from an angry elder.

The canoe flipped.

I plunged into the river.

And that’s when my private business turned into a public emergency.

I struggled. I kicked. I held onto the canoe for dear life, refusing to let it go like it was my last school term result. I shouted for help, praying Teme-Owei (the Almighty) would send a rescuer.

Then she appeared.

An elderly woman paddled by in another canoe. Our eyes met — hope ignited. But she didn’t stop. She didn’t flinch. She didn’t even blink twice.

Later, when they asked her why she didn’t save me, she said — and I quote:

“I was going to toilet, and that was more important to me at that moment than anything else.”

That was the moment I realized not all heroes wear capes — and some emergencies must wait for bowel movements.

But thankfully, true heroes did arrive: Tebesa and  his son Mushalight (both late now ), two fishermen returning from their expedition. They saw me battling with the river and pulled me into their boat. I was saved — cold, wet, humiliated, but very much alive.

My mother’s house became a celebration ground. Neighbours gathered, songs were sung, and calabashes of gin passed from hand to hand.

Then came the twist.

Mama Toilet (as I now affectionately call her) walked into the celebration like a VIP.

“Good evening,” she said. “I hear say celebration dey here.”

With no shame or guilt, she pointed at the table and asked for her shot of gin — and yes, she got it.

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When Laughter Became Law

Days later, I was summoned by the village chief, The incident had become a full-blown community issue. They needed to hear it “from the horse’s mouth.”

I stood before elders, women, youth, and even kids who had never seen Benin City before.

I narrated everything — the toilet call, the betrayal by the canoe, Mama Toilet’s cold pass-by, and the rescue by the fishermen.

When I reached the part where Mama said “toilet was more important than my life,” the chief laughed so hard his staff nearly fell.

He declared:

“From today, that part of the river shall be known as Owei Junction — to remind us that laughter and survival can paddle in the same canoe.”

And just like that, my accident became history, humor, and geography.

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A Tribute

Today, Mama Toilet, Tebesa, and Mushalight have all passed on. But their memories live in this story — one as a hilarious icon, and the others as the true heroes who pulled me from the jaws of the river.

To the people of Ofunama, the story is legend.

To me, it’s a reminder that life has a strange way of teaching lessons — sometimes in the middle of a river.

And every time I visit home, someone points at that part of the river and says:

“That’s where Owei nearly became catfish.”

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Dedicated to the memory of Mama Toilet, Tebesa, and Mushalight — may their souls rest in  peace.