Laughter.
“So when she keeps doing that, na trouble de sleep,
inyanga wan wake am. The man will be looking at her from
the corner of his eyes and be saying: ‘Heeeee!’ Then before
you know it, the walk changes…….”. I waddled out of the
stage to mimic the pregnant woman’s swag.
Raucous roar.
•
My next manifestation at the sanctuary was after two
weeks clear. Two weeks as in clear two Sundays in between
when I didn’t attend church. The earlier absence had
hangover to blame while soccer pleaded mea culpa for the
later miss.
It was to be another miss this Sunday because I over
slept but I rebuked Satan and made it half way into the
sermon. Half a loaf was always going to be better than no
bread. My arrival time was good enough for the gallery
again. I repaired upstairs, hopeful. I was ushered to a seat at
the near end, close to the staircase entrance. I sat and bent
down by habit, my eyes closed in prayers. When I opened
my eyes and sat up, I scanned the aisles on the gallery. She
wasn’t there. Fuk-up! On the screens, the day’s message title
was emblazoned:
O
GOD,
WHEN
THOU
WENTEST FORTH …….. Ps.
687-8 .
Daddy, going on with the
homily filled the frame. He wore his
trademark hands-free microphone
and strutted the alter, ipad in hand:
“Can somebody read from the Living
Bible or the New International
Version?”
One of the pastors from the
Pastors’ Bay stood and a media hand
relayed the cordless mic to him. He
read:
O God, when you led your people
from Egypt, when you marched
through the wilderness, the earth trembled and the
heavens poured rain before you, the God of Sinai,
before God, the God of Israel.
The pastor yielded up the mic and sat down again.
“Thank you for that,” Daddy complimented. “This is
just so that somebody will not be confused by the quaint
wording of the King James’ Version. Today, you cannot
write ‘wentest forth’ except you want to score F in English.
But I do like its richness. When it speaks of when God
wentest forth, it is referring to the pillar of cloud by day
and the pillar of fire by night with which the Almighty led
the children of Israel out of Egypt. The awesomeness of
the Almighty made the earth to quake and the sky to bow
down. That is what happens when God intervenes in your
situation …..”
The cameras swapped and Camera 2 beamed the pews
on the ground floor.
“….When you are going through a wilderness
experience, let God lead the way; let Him wentest forth,
amen!”
“Amen!”
“Let Him be your pillar of cloud by day and pillar of fire
20
by night, amen!”
“Amen!”
Just then, the sweep of the camera lens brought in
the center left column and who was smack on the aisle
– Jennie, my First Lady! There in full force!! The camera
faced her front but aint no doubt, her fit-to-die-for curves
were intact behind. Her Rear Majesty! From then on, I
could not be bothered with who wentest forth or whatever.
If I couldn’t espy my quarry, service wasn’t worth it. I got
restless thereafter thinking of how I can re-unite with First
Lady. Then I did a double take and picked up my Bible
and exited: “I’m coming,” was for my bemused neighbour.
Past the usher’s quizzical looks by the doorway again: “I’m
coming.” I trotted downstairs and onto the ground floor
main entrance.
“No more seat,” the head usher protested. “Go upstairs.”
“I know,” I barely said, breezing past him toward the
centre left aisle. Jennie was upfront.
Surely an odd seat could have been skipped somewhere or
someone could have exited.
I encountered her downstream colleague at the tail of
the aisle: “Guy, abeg, see if you can get me an empty seat
somewhere,” I coaxed pointing to the
extreme left column.
“Yes, he enthused, moving up the
aisle. I trailed him. Midway, he turned
to the right row and pointed to the
empty seat at the far end.
Here?
“O thanks!” I picked through
the five pairs of legs and sat down
with one person between me and the
other aisle. Stretching to look ahead,
I could see Jennie’s torso. Her waist
downwards were partly shielded by
a plantation row of heads and head
gears, I bid my time for when she was
bound to amble past my row. Upfront,
Daddy went on and on. He was
itemizing How to Make God Lead You. On the screens, the
bulleted sub heads rattled off:
• Live Holy
• Be Submissive
• Invite Him to Lead You.
The children of Israel - which of these did they?
The Man of God presently climbed down the
alter leaving his ipad on the lectern. The cameras and
microphones trailed him into the pews. The miracle segment
was underway. He went down the aisle two columns away
from mine. The first victim of the day was a woman.
“You,” he pointed at her near the front row.
She stood up on cue.
“Your husband is not here with you — right?”
Obviously. There’s no man seated beside her.
“Yes,” the tentative lady said.
“I see two of you living separately in two different
cities.”
“Yes, he was transferred to Port Harcourt.”
“The Lord says you make haste to join your husband for
that is the beginning of your separation if you don’t. Clap
hands for Jesus!” With that he was done and the lady made
THRICE FICTION™ • April 2014
her way out to sow a seed into the stationed receptacle by
the alter.
Picking on his next victim, Daddy told her she had
just discovered she was pregnant and was contemplating
abortion for they had six children already. “Is your husband
here?”
Why wouldn’t you know?
The man stood beside the woman on cue. Turning to
him, he continued: “My brother, even you have not been
told. You’re just hearing it, right?”
“Yes, Daddy.”
“Don’t be offended with her. She ‘s looking at it from the
point of view of Man – seven children with the state of our
economy.”
The rest of the church watched enraptured. Turning
again to the woman, Daddy continued: “My sister, the baby
you carry is exactly 26 days, 8 hours and 17 minutes old.”
The church clapped and Z[Y