kind of witchcraft. With a man — like me — around you,
which rat fit miss road show face for the house when bush
meat de hungry some people.
The babe looked gorgeous in a hat and spoke with the
unmistakable accent that came with contact with Oyibo the British Ones not the American Ones.
After her, there were two other testimonies that had to
do with success with visa interviews. One of them, Baba
Dee had been my paddy and I linked him to the guy who
was to arrange Oluwole bank statement and marriage
certificate for him. The embassy had to be sure he had a
regular income in the country with a wife and children
to guarantee his willing return. If not for his testimony, I
wouldn’t have known he succeeded. He didn’t tell me. You
see life!
The one which brought down the roof was of a couple of
whom the lady had the SS genotype and a confirmed patient
but had gone ahead to wed her AS heartthrob against better
counsel if not judgment. She waved the result of the test
confirming she had become AA after being prayed for by
Daddy and drinking anointed oil. All her symptoms had
disappeared and her red blood cell count was at an all time
high. People screamed from the pews and others walked
out to sow to it. On my row, argument burst as the brother
who sat two chairs away said something about fake testifiers
who were out for “Notice Me” to please Daddy Bishop and
Mummy.
“How d’you mean?” challenged the lady in between us.
“It’s not scientifically possible.”
“Was walking on water scientifically possible?”
“But that was Jesus Christ.”
“What of parting the Red Sea.” It was from an elderly
man seated on the preceding row turning on his seat
backwards.
“Well, …..” smiled Doubting Thomas finding himself
outnumbered.
I prevaricated inside having initially shared DT’s
opinions but being not so sure anymore. Moreover, the
opposition looked distinguished. Seeing how I leaned
forward right ways with interest in the talk, the buffer lady
sought to drag me out: “Imagine what he said,” she started.
“You mean that lady can come out to fake a healing just to
please somebody?”
I gently nodded my agreement.
“You know what it means to suffer sickle cell — the
pains, the crises?” She wasn’t done.
“Yes,” I volunteered, “she even put on weight.”
“That’s what I’m saying — it shows.”
“Very well,” I concurred. By then it was just the two of
us carrying on. The storm raised by SS to AA had blown
over and two other testifiers who I didn’t listen to in the
aftermath of the storm had brought the session to a close.
The choir prepared to deliver its special number to usher
in the sermon. As they rose, shades of green suffused the
TV screens on the gallery. I had an unhindered view to the
alter but depended on the screens for close-ups. The camera
panned the choir frontlines and I ticked off: Bunmi, Nike,
Tina, Ify, Florence. Blessing was missing. There was no
knowing if she was around but didn’t robe for the service or
she travelled. Fishing out my BB, I pinged her: No de fuk up,
babe. Wia u de? She didn’t reply and the phone returned to
18
my pocket.
The choir did a special number. Then came the moment
I had been waiting for. All my senses were primed for the
day’s message. Will it provide good enough materials for
tonight? Daddy stepped onto the alter with his ipad.
“Praise the Lord!”
“Alleluia,” thundered the congregation.
“That ‘alleluia’ is that of a malaria patient. If you know
that you don’t have malaria, Praise the Lord!”
“Alle – lu – yaaaa!!”
“Shout it let me hear you.”
“Alle – lu – yaaaaaaaa!!!” I didn’t join. Anybody who
didn’t hear that first one will need to visit an ENT specialist.
There won’t be any difference even if I did it with my eyes and
nose and ears too.
“Stand up and tell your neighbour on the right: ‘You’re
in for an earthquake today.”
Has the National Emergency Mgt Agency been
informed?
The church broke into a hearty babble. I turned to my
lady neighbour on the right to repeat the line. She was
turned rightwards too while the guy to my left was pitching
the line to me.
“Say it again: ‘You’re in for an earthquake today!’”
We continued.
“Now turn to the person on your left and say it: ‘You’re
in for an earthquake today!’”
I turned to the brother to my left. He was rattling off to
his left hand neighbour. My right hand sister was on me.
“Walk to seven people and tell them: ‘God is going to
visit you today with a miracle.’”
How am I sure?
The pews scattered like a stepped-upon line of soldier
ants. I went through the motions pumping palms here and
there. Before I picked my way through the haphazard traffic
to where I’d be in the natural line of contact with First
Lady, the temporary jigsaw had fallen into place with order
restored.
Big fuk-up. I made my way back to my seat, unable to feel
her hand today.
On the alter, Daddy settled down to the business of
the day. The topic was Work in Progress. I reached for my
wallet. Rummaging its compartments, I chanced upon a
piece of paper and unfurled. It was the counterfoil of my last
electricity bill. The back was clear and I scribbled away. The
root passa