MY EXPERIENCE WITH "ELEMI"

She is possessed. Get her a Red and White Dress and let her come for the weekly revival....We will chase the demon out of her the prophetess fumes...

They call them "Elemi”. They are prophetess from the white garment denomination who goes on pilgrimage to the celestial realm...Sometimes for 14days, 21days or 40days...

My own Elemi was on 40 days pilgrimage until she saw the vision that I was possessed.

As I walked into the revival auditorium that evening, I knew I was not going to leave the same way I came. I saw the anger and hatred from Elemi’s face. She was looking so mean and ferociously at me and my heart skipped several seconds..

In the mid 80’s, Nigeria was predominated with orthodox and white garment churches. Pentecostal revival had not taken place and majority of Christians either belong to the orthodox clan or the White garments clan. We belonged to the orthodox clan. My family is deeply rooted in Methodism till this very moment and that was where I was baptized and I took my first holy communion.

On the other hand, our neighbor happened to be the Oludasile (General Overseer) of a white garment church. You know, apart from the generally known white garment churches we see, there are thousands of them that have no affiliation with the popular ones. They are built, orchestrated and founded by individuals who claims that God called them into the ministry. Our neighbor was one of them.

His Church thrived and boomed in the early 80’s. We were neighbors and because he had kids who were in the same age range with us, we normally go there to play and his kids also come around to our house. It was more of a neighbor relationship than a Christian relationship. I see them as neighbors and friends before seeing them as Church owner or GO

The friendship grew so much that we used to sneak out of the house to play with them. Dad forbids us going to people’s abode so we only get to play around anytime he’s not around. One of the most precious times for us to go out is revival time. Prayer is good dad believes so he doesn’t stop us from attending the church evening activities since it’s just the next house.

This particular evening, Elemi was on her normal celestial adventure to heaven and throughout the period of her adventure, revival must hold. That way, Elemi will have the opportunity to pass messages to us directly from God’s throne. Elemi will look at you and tell you your problems in a second. She will also tell you how to go about solving them. It used to be power-packed, people-filled, hope-raised revival back then.

Also, Elemi used to beat demons out of people. Once Elemi gets the notification from heaven that you are possessed then that is it. Elemi will pick up her broom and beat the demon out of you. Everyone dreads Elemi. She was not of this world. She belonged to the celestial realm and they even told us, Elemi doesn’t eat throughout the period of her celestial voyage.

Elemi charged towards my seat and pounced on me. She gave me the beatings of my life. Her brooms pierced and bruised every part of my fragile body. I was dazed. The problem is when Elemi beats you; you have no right to run. Elemi was so determined to kill me. I couldn’t take it anymore so I ran out of the church and straight to our house.

You will agree with me that it’s not by force to go to church. So I told myself, it’s been almost 28 days that Elemi has been on her journey and she never raised her hand to beat me so why today? I got home, told my dad everything that happened and how Elemi almost killed me. I haven’t finished speaking when the emissaries entered. Yes, Elemi emissaries entered our sitting room and met me with dad. So they told him, “Eyi ni Ikilo olorun si iranse re. Omo eniyan ni lati teti sile gidigidi fun ikilo yi. Omobinrin, e yi ti o n se ikan ninu awon omo re ti gbabode a si ni lati tu sile. Omo eniyan yi o ra aso pupa opa meji, aso funfun opa meji and abela meje fun itusile omobinrin re. E mase ko eti ikun si oro yin. Alafia fun omo eniyan” - This is the warning of god to his servant. Son of man needs to listen attentively to this warning. Your daughter is possessed and she needs to be delivered. Son of man must buy two yards of white cloth, two yards of red cloth and seven candles which will be used for her deliverance. Don’t ignore the warning. Peace be unto you”

Just like the message came, my red cloth and white cloth were ready the second day and dad was my time keeper. Making sure the demon was removed from me. Every day was hell for me. I was just barely 9 years old and Elemi must be in her late twenties. She descended so meanly on me and gave me marks for every demon she pushed out. I was in pain

DIARY OF A UNISCA ALUMNUS - MY JOURNEY THROUGH UNITY

It’s still a fresh memory. I remember the day I set my feet's on the anointed ground of Unity Secondary School Ado-Ekiti. It was a long awaited reality. I had dreamt about that very day a long time before it actually manifested. I was eager to become a secondary school student. I was just tired of the primary school life I had lived for nine years. I longed to adorn a different look; I longed to have my freedom. I had rehearsed in my head how fantastic it will be to live away from home, how interesting it will be to make new friends and learn new things. 

Like an innocent lover who is meeting a date for the first time, I had judiciously planned for my journey into boarding school. My sisters told me I would need pepper, salt and Palm oil. She told me the food were tasteless and watery. She told me about “Feshelu” and pepper stew. I already fantasized about them so I came prepared with all my soup ingredients.

Our journey was rather long for me. The journey was meant to be short one since we were only moving from Basiri to Aba Egbira. I was so anxious to start my new boarding life to even notice that a lot of things had actually changed about me.

I was the lady with the dark, shinning and long hair. That was my signature right from age one. I rocked my signature hair till my primary four. I rocked it till the moment I got that admission into unity Ado. Unfortunately, my hair went with the good news. My boldness went too. 

The long journey from my home to the school gave me the opportunity to ruminate over my life. I went back the memory lane. It has been an eventful journey through life for me. I remembered my humble beginning. I remembered the look on my father when I got home with my first report sheet. I was in Primary one. My father had enrolled me in one of the public primary school within our vicinity. It was the place for every child living in the community. My sister’s schooled there and it was only normal that I enroll there. Things went normal until my addiction set in. I hopelessly lost the opportunity to continue in the community Methodist School just because I sucked my thumbs. 

I am an addict to thumb sucking. I could cross ocean and walk through the desert in other to suck my thumb. I did it with no sense of shame or dignity. I had once broken a Plaster of Paris placed around my thumbs with a big stone just to fulfill my fantasy. I sucked my thumbs like someone possessed with a strange spirit. Unfortunately, my addiction got the best of me and the community school was tired of me.

 
The school was tired of my tantrums. My constant disappearance into the thick forest to fulfill my fantasy was a burden to the school. So I was told to go home. My report sheet read “Promoted but Withdraw”. Do I even know what that meant? Do I even care if it reads otherwise as long as I can still suck my thumbs regularly?

I lost two years to thumb sucking and somehow, I gained it back. I left primary school for my boarding school in class four. I was too petite to be considered a secondary school student. (Well, I think I still look too petite to be considered an adult self).

I was too deep in thought to know that we were already inside Unisca campus. The market-like noise brought me back to reality. “No. she is coming to Room 35, No, it’s room 36. No, its room 40” The seniors were all out dragging me from my father. They all wanted me to be in their rooms. I watched as my father smiled on at the show of sudden interest in her daughter. I was scared for my life. Nobody told me the seniors were as big as Goliath. Nobody told me they were many in numbers. I waited for my father to push them off and tell them to leave me alone. Alas, that never happened. Daddy watched on as I became an object of choice in the slave market.

I thought the seniors were so nice and kind to show such love towards me. I was wrong. I didn’t know they were actually building up their slave’s dynasty. I realized later on that the number of juniors in a room determines the royalty of such room. I settled for Room 38. Till tomorrow, I do not understand what I did to the gods to make me choose such room. I must have been under a strong spell. Room 38. The room that sends fear down the spines of all 1st Square inhabitants

Room 38 was everything a room should not be. It was different from every other room in First Square. Well, one cannot rule out the attitude and character of the inhabitants of room 38. It was just different from every other room around. I will not dwell much on the characters of the seniors of room 38 because I also end up becoming a senior in room 38. However, one can talk freely about the dislikes that nature bestowed on that room. The gutters were annoyingly stinking. Apart from the fact that the geographical position of room 38 suffers from nature illness, the building itself also suffers from architectural illness. Room 38 glory must be restored with this bringing back the lost glory train.

The contractor who designed and constructed the hostel did a myopic job. All the water in the drainages all ends their journey in-front of room 37 and room 38. The drainage was never dry. At a point, I started dreaming that witches were actually having meetings in that drainage. 

Like I was saying before the sudden recollection of how room 38 looked, I got my room that same day and I think I got my wardrobe that same day too. I carefully unpacked my goods into my wardrobe while I watched my environment keenly. I tried to scan the room to see if there is any one as petite as myself. I suddenly felt this coldness takes over my whole body. That was when I realized that I have suddenly developed fear for my own survival.

I slept in fear that night. I must have been disturbed to even catch a smooth sleep. It was 2am in the morning and my eyes were still wide open and my thoughts scattered.

That was the first time that I will be sleeping 500 meters away from my father. I must have been lost in my thoughts to realize that I was seeing things in the physical realm.…I saw them entered the room. They came in through one of the open windows. They were naked except for the black boxers and the black mask. I must have died several times. Demons?, Satan?, Witches? But then I thought again, witches are not men so these can’t be witches. 

One moved to my bunk, I was cold like a frozen chicken. He tried to check my face then I heard him communicate faintly with others that she is a minor. Then, they moved to my bunk mate. She happened to be in SS2 at that time. They looked at her, smiled mischievously and they brought out a paste-like substance and placed it in her mouth. They continued again to other bunks and carried out their mischievous acts. They eventually left around 3am and I must have caught some sleep around 4:30am.

In the morning, there were reports among the seniors that some guys came to the hostel. There were conflicting reports. Nobody saw them but I guess they left some marks to show that they came. Then, everything started coming together for me. They were not demons after all. They were senior boys who just derive pleasure in visiting girl’s hostel at odd hours. I started asking myself, what do they stand to gain? Why will anybody deny himself the comfort of his own bed to carry out such act? I was amazed at my discovery. This must surely go down in my diary.

…The first few weeks of my stay was actually worth embracing. I got some pampering here and there from my seniors but as days rolled into weeks and weeks into months, things started changing. My seniors were becoming more like my masters. At first, we had a sister-sister relationship and somehow, it spiraled out to a master-slave relationship. The metamorphosis was beyond my comprehension. It seems I was constantly pressing the wrong buttons with my seniors. 

It didn’t take me too long to know where I belong. I found my way to the household of faith fellowship. The official SU caucus on Unisca Campus. I became a fellowship member. I was able to find some people who still see me as a sister. I eventually find a peaceful place to go after all the drama of Room 38. I met Sister Tayo Osho, Yemi Osho, Laide Fagbola, Motunrayo Hassan and so on. Words failed me at this very moment. I really do not know how to describe these seniors. Sister Tayo lifestyle practically brought me to Christ. I almost decamped to 3rd square just because of her. She was so sweet and caring. God bless you sis.

I must not forget the men too. Bro Jide Adeyemi, Bayo Akomolafe, Olumide Otekalu, Ayo Adigun and so on. I am sure you guys did not know what you sowed into me. I have had cause to reach out to Sister Tayo Oso over the years and she just couldn’t remember me anymore. I really don’t care if she does but I remember her for all the good things she did for me. I also sent a message to Bro. Jide Adeyemi recently. I am awed by who God turned you into bro. You were an inspiration to me back then and God bless you so much

…I eventually became a part of the system. I was petite but my mouth was and still a giant. I quickly understood that for one to survive in an environment like Unisca, you need to have either an intimidating stature or a killer-tongue. I opted for the killer-tongue

I had always wondered why I was never smart enough to read the handwritings on the wall back then. I noticed that there were no timid looking girls around the room the day my father dropped me off. I thought all the girls were naturally tall and big. I concluded in my mind that they must have really been well fed for them to look that voluptuous. I dreamt of when I was also going to start looking well-formed and Curvy. I didn't know I was only dreaming until reality woke me up.

It took me weeks to understand that our immediate seniors (J.S.S 2) students actually absconded from the hostel. I observed a trend with them. They normally sneak into the room to pick whatever things they will need and before you even have the strength to say Jack, they would have disappeared again.

I didn't realize why until the day I walked in their shoes. I started noticing that seniors don't refer to us like human. I can't speak for other rooms but my seniors have a way of calling us. They will say “one goat there". If no one answers them, they will repeat the demeaning qualification again. If you fail to answer this time, you are just on the way to become a bus conductor. That usually follows after a well resounding slap.

The bus conductor punishment was a corporal one. You will have to use one hand to hold the bunk in a similar way a danfo driver hangs to the door of his bus. Our seniors named it "Gan Bus". If peradventure the angels are on your case, they can tell you to "Muka Obo" - suck monkey thumb.

Gradually, I became use to the mean treatment of the seniors and unknowingly to them; their actions were making a rebel out of me. Everything comes with a slap or a punishment. It was as if they derived pleasure in my pain. Oh my days. I have lived in the fear of my own experience and I will never allow any of my kids go through this. I think I am a bit paranoid now and my hubby thinks I need counseling. Those days haunt me till this moment. I had once threatened to sue my child care-giver because I had a premonition that she spanked him. I’ve had reasons to change my son’s school three times within the space of a year. I have fears from the past that still haunt me. 

Somehow, I thought i was lucky to have a school mother in a particular senior B. I noticed that the first weeks of resumption were my golden weeks. Senior B always treats me nice for those few weeks. Unfortunately, senior B also takes the nice treatment to my provisions. It became a trend. Eventually, by the time our love starts dwindling; my meagre provisions too would have gone down drastically. Then rejections will set in. Senior B will immediately start picking holes in my words and my deeds. 

SERENA WILLIAMS: UNMOVED BY RACISM STORY

Imagine you have won 21 Grand Slam singles titles, with only four losses in your 25 appearances in the finals. Imagine that you’ve achieved two ‘‘Serena Slams’’ (four consecutive Slams in a row), the first more than 10 years ago and the second this year. A win at this year’s U.S. Open would be your fifth and your first calendar-year Grand Slam — a feat last achieved by Steffi Graf in 1988, when you were just 6 years old.

"If they want to market someone who is white and blond, that’s their choice. I have a lot of partners who are very happy to work with me. I can’t sit here and say I should be higher on the list because I have won more.

I’m happy for her, because she worked hard, too. There is enough at the table for everyone. We have to be thankful, and we also have to be positive about it so the next black person can be No. 1 on that list. Maybe it was not meant to be me. Maybe it’s meant to be the next person to be amazing, and I’m just opening the door. Zina Garrison, Althea Gibson, Arthur Ashe and Venus opened so many doors for me. I’m just opening the next door for the next person."

‘‘You don’t understand me,’’ Serena Williams said with a hint of impatience in her voice. ‘‘I’m just about winning.’’ She and I were facing each other on a sofa in her West Palm Beach home this July. She looked at me with wariness as if to say, Not you, too. I wanted to talk about the tennis records that she is presently positioned either to tie or to break and had tried more than once to steer the conversation toward them. But she was clear: ‘‘It’s not about getting 22 Grand Slams,’’ she insisted. Before winning a calendar-year Grand Slam and matching Steffi Graf’s record of 22 Slams, Serena would have to win seven matches and defend her U.S. Open title; those were the victories that she was thinking about.

Source: NYTIMES

MILITARY TORMENT

Who is the most senior staff here? Come down right now.

He yelled again, this time like a ferocious dog. Who is the most senior staff here? I need the person to signify right now.

Dead silence permeates the whole bus. Nobody moved an inch. Nobody said a word.

It was a case of bloody civilians against a low-ranked military officer. Unfortunately, as low as his rank was, his venom was enough to put a whole village in chaos.

That was our experience in the hand of an over-zealous low-ranked military officer.

It was closing time and as usual, we were all packed inside the staff bus heading through third mainland bridge, Oworo to Ojodu-Berger. We call it the Ojodu-Berger Staff Bus. We were more than colleagues. We have become families. We had no options anyways because we see ourselves first in the morning and late at night. We were the team bonded together by the same route and the same bus.

Most times, the trip home is always an exhausting one. 

We always have one or two things to talk and argue about. We know ourselves. We know where to place ourselves. We have the quiet, easy going ones; we have the always talking ones… (Well, I will agree that I belong to the always talking group)

Like every other day, we approached the Obalende part of bridge and…..everything changed.

I want to give you a little background about our staff bus. We have hierarchies. The boss, the leaders, the senior staffs occupies the front seat directly beside the driver and also the front rows of the bus. Those of us that were junior staffs, we seat anywhere and anyhow. The point is, we all want to follow the staff bus and we don’t want to attract the judgment of the senior staffs.

Sometimes, they can be mean if they want to. They will just order you to come down so that they can seat. Funny enough, nobody ever acted to me that way….I have promised myself I won’t honor such disgrace. We will drag it out right there but, I won’t bulge.

As we approached Obalende, A normal (nothing special or fantastic) car came from the other side of the lane and wanted to maneuver his way to our front. There was traffic so some people drove as if they were going to Obalende and at the point where they were supposed to go down the bridge to Obalende, they tried to maneuver and outsmart other drivers keeping their lanes.

He was fully dressed in his White Military Regalia. He drove like a tout and without apology or a signal or a peace sign, he wanted to maneuver his way through. He had this “I am a military man” look and he was so proud. His pride smelt from afar.

Our driver, an elderly fragile looking man and very stubborn didn’t allow him. In anger, the military guy drove and brushed us. He was trying to maneuver through the passenger side. He brushed us, parked his 1983 car, brought out his Koboko and made his way to our driver’s side.

He shouted at him to roll down the car window but our driver declined. In anger, he pulled his koboko and with one angry swipe, he shattered our side mirror. We were dazed.   Is this guy high on something? Our driver was boiling in anger so he rolled down his side window and “Gbosa” the young man slapped an obviously elderly man than him. “Gbosa” the second time. “Gbosa” the third time.

And blood started coming from his nose.  The military guy continued with his torment of our driver. He used the Koboko on him like a small boy. He was screaming and yelling at him at the same time. We were in the bus. I couldn’t take it anymore.

I shouted back. What did he do? Why are you so mean and wicked? Who the hell are you? Then I felt a hand close to my leg. No, I felt a pinch. It was Abiodun. He told me quietly “Olamide shut-up. Olamide Keep quiet. This is not an Aluta field. Just keep your mouth shut before you put yourself in a deep mess” I shrugged it off. I told him somebody should talk. Somebody should do something. The driver was bleeding and we all sat down while this mad man in uniform continues with his rampage. He was wrong. Absolutely wrong. He was at fault. So why did he treat an innocent, fragile looking old man like that

As we were debating that, A Peugeot 504, loaded with Military officers drove past. The guy signaled to them and they stopped on the express causing more traffic. They all came down towards our bus. They asked what happened and we were trying to explain to them. They saw it. They saw the blood running from the drivers face and nose. They saw the angle and manner the two vehicles were and they knew the military guy was wrong.

Before they came along, one of us, a senior staff just bought a phone for almost thirty thousand. Don’t ask me how much is thirty thousand. I am talking about 2009 here. Thirty thousand was a whole lot of money to get a trending Nokia Phone with an inbuilt camera.

Wunmi just got his phone and we just celebrated in the office. So while the drama was going on, Wumi came down and took several pictures of the scene. It was meant to be our evidence against the military guy. When those military guys came to join their brother’s, he told them about Wunmi and his pictures. He reported Wunmi to them.

One of them barked. Where is the phone? Wunmi was trying to explain that “I didn’t capture his face as stated by him. I only took the pictures of the accident”…Suddenly, someone barked, give me the phone. It was an order. Trembling and afraid, Wunmi gave him the phone. He passed it to another plain-cloth guy and ordered him to smash the phone on the floor.

Joke of the century…How can they? The phone that took Wunmi almost 3months to save for. The phone that we just celebrated and Wunmi bought us drinks and Gala. How can you smash a thirty thousand naira phone on the floor? I was lost in my thought to even notice they have smashed Wunmi’s phone as ordered.

The guy, removed the sim, gave it to Wunmi, placed the phone on the floor and he smashed it with his legs…I have never seen such in my life. The next orders was, put the photographer in the booth and take him to the cantonment. Immediately Wunmi heard that, I didn’t know he can run that fast…the guy jumped the four lane express in one second….Wunmi was at the other side of the road running like someone who just saw a demon…

Back to us…They screamed again, who is the most senior staff here. We all looked at Mathew. He was our Oga. Our Boss. Mathew did my interview for me as a Youth corps member. Mathew was the handsome guy I was smiling sheepishly at while my interview was going on…until I saw the rings ( Well, I told him already, so this is not new to him)

Mathew didn’t say a word o. They screamed, yelled and suddenly, Tosin screamed. I am the most senior staff. What is your problem? Who are you? Who do you work for? You criminals. You bad eggs of the force. You will pay for this. You will

They shouted her down. Keep quiet. Who are you talking to? Then Tosin stood up (a lady, so petite that I even consider myself taller than) she stood up and pointed her fingers in their eyes. You will pay for this. You will. They shouted at her. Threatened her that they will arrest her, she told them, “cowards, arrest me and lose your jobs” Arrest me and lose your life. I will send you out of the force…

Not sure of whose daughter she might be…they left us. Our driver was bleeding…The side mirror was broken and we were shattered emotionally.

On the way, I turned to Mathew. “Oga Mathew, I am disappointed. You are the boss here. We all looked up to you why didn’t you salvage the situation? You are a bit older, matured and understand this drama more so why did you keep mute?

My boss told me “Olamide, My mama told me, never argue with a man who will slap you and you will still prostrate and say I’m sorry”. Knowing the senior staff has no meaning? Was I the one driving? Why were they interested in knowing the senior staff?” What will the knowledge of the senior staff do to them? We all pleaded with them so why were they so concerned about the senior staff? I am a young man with a family and the last thing I want is military wahala that I didn’t even start in the first place…

The journey home was a long one. We were all silent... for different reasons I guessed. I was angry at myself for failing myself. I was angry with Oga Mathew for not standing up for us…I was angry with the military guy for showing such display of madness…I was angry with the society that gave him such power. I was angry with Nigeria

It’s been six years…….the memory is still fresh…

ECHOES FROM THE PAST: CHILDISH ADVENTURE

Looking through the recent advert for Alexander McQueen dresses brought back this memory. Its one memory I will not forget in my lifetime. Things we do because we are ignorant and we want to belong.

Christmas was fast approaching and every family was busy buying clothes and shoes for their kids. The fragrance of Christmas breezed past my home and we also needed to get the once in a year “Aso Odun and Bata Odun”. However, there was a little problem.  Dad has been the one buying our Christmas clothes and we staged a demonstration against that. We told him we needed our money in cash so that we can go to the market and sort ourselves out.

I knew I led the family Aluta as little I was and quite unusual of dad, he gave in and gave us our money. I was in secondary school. Boarding school to be precise. The money dad gave us was quite on the high side in respect to the year in question, it was enough to get us a nice dress for Christmas celebration.  

The second day, typical of every harmattan period when you have the sun basking in the freedom of the universe, my sister and I set out for the market.

On our way, my mind did 360 degree. I thought about what I will buy, how I will look and topmost was the sense of freedom I got from dad for collecting that cash. I told myself as I smiled sheepishly, enough is enough jare. Dad is a man. How can he understand what I need as a young girl. How foolish was I. The same dad, who has bought my clothes since I was six when we lost mum, the same man who knows the in and out of the markets in my area, the man who took it upon himself to raise four girls without fear or trembling…

The list is endless but…I never cared. I reassured myself that it was never his job to buy clothes for girls. He can do well in the boys department but for me, I know my needs and taste so he should give me my money.

In less than 20minutes we were in the market and that was where the temptation started. You will agree with me that during festive periods, there are usually large turnouts of traders and wares and it will take a lot of caution to stick to your list.

Suddenly, I saw the Radio. It looks good. A radio? Like seriously? What else do I need to feel among in my boarding school? What else. I was never among the richest so my provisions are limited. I wasn’t that pretty (wasn’t ugly either. I was in the middle range. Don’t try me now o. Time can change a lot of things). The only thing that set me apart and made me popular and even gave me a post as a prefect was because I was brilliant. Yes I was. Nobody can argue about that. I was damn straight brilliant for my age and class and all the rich babes still comes to me for help

So I thought to myself, if I buy this radio, I will take it to school when we resume and boom, I will be the next big thing on campus. At least, people will talk about me for two weeks. So I cunningly asked my sister about her opinion.

While she held her money tightly in her palm, she told me how sonorous the voice from the radio will sound, she told me how I will suddenly become the “big girl”, she told me to go for it but she held her own money like it was going to disappear.

She is my elder sister and I looked at her for that approval. She gave me and supported me. So timidly, we both went to the seller’s store. We greeted her, told her we wanted the radio, she gave us her price, we bargained and I bought the radio.

I tried switching it on but I noticed it wasn’t working until my sister told me I needed to buy a battery for it to work. Funny enough, the little change left with me was just enough for the battery so I looked at my sister  to see if she can do me a favour by paying for the battery from her own money but she didn’t bulge so I had to use my remaining change.

I was so excited that I didn’t even bother to put the battery inside the radio. Instead, I jumped into the next cab and headed straight to my aunt’s place. My aunt, she is a drama to behold. A lot of people think I‘m dramatic, wait until you see my Aunt. Drama is her middle name.

We got to her house and I was excited to show her my new investment. Her kids were young, they were in primary school.  As we stepped into their living room, the kids were so happy to see us and they rushed to embrace us. I love them so much. My first cousins. Adorable kids back then and lovely ladies and mothers now.

So I showed my radio to my aunt and in her usual manner, she told me to power it on. I did and my world changed.

WOLVES IN SHEEP CLOTHINGS

Pastor: Do you have a boyfriend?

Mide: Pastor, why are you asking sir? Anyways, to answer your question, I have a boyfriend

Pastor: You see, as a Christian, we should be wary and careful of the relationships we keep because they can lead us to hell and……

Mide: Pastor, I know all that and the last time I checked sir, any boy that is my friend is a boyfriend including you sir….The question should have been, do you have a lover.

-------------------------------------

There are some questions you don’t ask people. That is my opinion and I think it’s somehow crazy to meet someone for the first time and ask them personal questions. No matter the capacity you are acting from.

It was during the long university break and I was at home for the holidays. My sister, during one of our usual chitchat told me about a pastor that came around and was asking her some personal questions that has to do with her relationship with the opposite sex and my sister felt it was ridiculous of him.

Let me give you a little break down of this man. He’s a pastor in one of the orthodox churches where we worship. I come from a staunch orthodox background and my family is very active in the church. My father normally travels for church activities and it was during one of such trips that he met the young pastor.

They exchanged addresses and my father made him promise that he was going to check up on our family anytime he’s in town. So that very day, he was in town for another program and he decided to pass the night with us. We were all in school but my sister came home for something urgent and that was how their path crossed. My father introduced my sister to him “Oh, meet one of my daughters” and that was how the interrogation started. My sister felt embarrassed with all the questions the pastor asked but she didn’t want to sound rude to him.

Some months later, universities were on break and we were all at home for the long holidays. It was a Saturday and the Sun was basking in the glory of its brightness. Dad, was to travel that day to be back on Sunday but before he left, he already told my sisters that Young Pastor will be coming around to town and he has informed him that he will be passing the night with us. Unfortunately, Dad has to travel that same day but he told Young Pastor he will see him the second day.

Dad left. My sister came to me and said, “You know the pastor I told you about, the one who asked me those embarrassing questions, is coming around today”. I was like Oh, Okay.

Instantly, I told myself I was not going to even give him the slightest opportunity to ask me any crazy question. I can be very mean and rude when I want to. Coincidentally, it was also the youth week period in church and there were activities lined up already. We were all expected to be in church around 4pm for a religious program. Young Pastor was meant to go with us to church and then back home to sleep.

Around 2:30pm, Young Pastor appeared. I was in the shop. The shop is situated in front of our house like every other shop. It’s like your everyday pharmaceutical shops with shelves here and there. At the back of the shelf, we have spaces where wares can be kept for stocking and the space is big enough to accommodate two people.

Young Pastor walked into the compound majestically carrying a black suitcase. I was in the shop. It was my turn to stay in the shop and attend to customers. Young Pastor is tall, slim-built and chocolate in color. I got to know later that he’s soft spoken and cunning. He’s also a pervert. Yes, Young Pastor is a Pervert.

After some minutes, I saw the person strode into the shop. He greeted me and I answered in a firm manner. I was official with him. I Had told myself I was not going to let my guard down or allow him to have any meaningless discussion with me so that he won’t have any reasons to ask me stupid questions.

I greeted him like I would a customer coming to buy drugs and I continued with what I was doing. He paced up and down the shop as if he was looking at the drugs and reading their pamphlets. Later, he dragged an empty white chair and sat down to have a discussion with me.

Young Pastor: I can see you are the youngest and I was also told you are in the university too

Mide: (Acting like I was not interested in the whole conversation). Yes, I am the youngest and you are right that I am also in the university.

Young Pastor: Oh, that is Fantastic. I am Pastor XXXX, a Youth Pastor in charge of XXXXX Circuit. I came around for the youth program and I have another ministration at XXXX State tomorrow.

Mide: That is good to hear. Since you already know am the last daughter, I am assuming that you already know my name too.

Young Pastor: Well, I was told. What course are you studying in the University?

Mide: Computer Engineering

Young Pastor: I hope you attend church too and I hope you are close to God. You see, I don’t want you to be like all these university students who are far from God. At home, they are something else, in school, they are another thing.

Some of them have multiple partners, some of them are into aristos and all sorts and I hope you know what the bible says about such people? The Bible is explicit about such people and such behaviors. You see, young people who are supposed to be focused with their studies having boyfriends and missing God’s plans for their lives

Mide: (I was thinking…Ghenghen, this man is starting small small o)

Young Pastor: I hope you are not like them?

Mide: Like who? – With disdain in my voice

Young Pastor: Like those people who engage in fornication. Those young students who fornicates in the name of boyfriends and girlfriends. By the way, Do you have a boyfriend?

Mide: Pastor, why are you asking sir? Anyways, to answer your question, I have a boyfriend

Pastor: You see, as a Christian, we should be wary and careful of the relationships we keep because they can lead us to hell and……

Mide: Pastor, I know all that and the last time I checked sir, any boy that is my friend is a boyfriend including you sir….The question should have been, do you have a lover.