Short Story: Beloved In Christ (Part Eight)
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The sad chronicle about Sharifa’s warm relationship with her Muslim cronies was so humbling. Compounding this headache, came the divorce verdict, too. The panel of judges have now reached a consensus. Maa Christy is officially not my father’s wife. Mr. Aworka has been slashed with an amount of money to pay. That is going to be a compensation to my mother. And he is by that ruling to fend for me.
Even with that my mother still maintained that she would never demand anything from him, “it is a total estrangement. We are done with Dzanie, the irresponsible who thinks he’s irreplaceable.” We committed everything into the Hand of God and resorted to bed.
So soon Monday morning shown its stressful face. I have had my bath and eaten. Nowadays it beseems I have grown fond of gospel reality shows, in place of those good for nothing “diva shows”. I hardly missed the “Christ Is Coming” show on channel 400. That program alone keeps me company from 10-12PM. And today is not different. It was after I was done watching then I made it to Sharifa’s place to dine with her for a while.
We were having our conversation when Jafar announced his presence. He had grown a beautiful beard and appears strictly traditional. I had to excuse them for a moment. Rather unfortunate, he left us with a contorted face. They seemed very happy when they met each other, “so what is the hiccup?” I asked. “What does this boy thinks of himself, a God?” “What did he say?” “He claims I need to revert to Islam, but if not so there’s no way my prayers to my late Mom, Hajia Shafaw, would ever be accepted. Jafar that I used to teach him “Alif” “Ba” and “Ta” (Arabic alphabets), today they’ve made him an Imam in the local mosque so he’s become a ‘scholar’ already, and he thinks he knows more than the scholars.” “He might be ‘agnorant.’” “This is what they know best, Adukwei. They always hold the key to righteousness.” “Let us forget the silly him.”
The time for park is 7:30PM. And it was almost 3:15PM, so Sharifa brought out some clothes, “these are what I will wear to park. Adukwei, you do not know; the park is the most exciting of all the activities of the Beloved. I would not say much, when we go you would see for yourself.” “Then if that is the case let me stroll home and get my things ironed out too.” “Let me go with you.” “Oh, no! I will pick a car. Iron and iron well.” “Take care, dear.”
Maa Christy was at home when I got there. She assisted me in choosing a decent dress for the park. I ironed them. I was not that stressed out but I wanted to take a repose so that by the scheduled hour for park I would be feeling refreshed. The repose did not last for half an hour then news of Tsotovo traveling to the States got to me. Well, I did not get irked. Nimo, Koo Kuntu and Tsotovo had all been obliterated and debased, so even if they become a ‘god’ I would still not give a middle finger. And with all this bravado, I was still in pains, though. I feel it was the pains which caused me to sleep at 5:30PM and could not wake up at 7:15PM, the slated time for park.
Lo, I was in the dreamland taking marriage vows with a face I could not recognized and Maa Christy began yelling my name. “Adukwei! Wake up. Wake up. Sharifa is here!” I checked my time and realised that I have overslept. I put on the dress hurriedly, prepared quickly, and came out hastily. Sharifa was on phone. She hanged up and disclosed, “let’s wait for Kpebu, he is coming with Yawa and Akosuwaa.” The others, she claimed, “are already at the park. Since Kpebu is the youth spiritual leader, his presence is pivotal at the park.”
In some few seconds and, Kpebu car’s break creaked right at where we had converged. We got ourselves on board, and thus did head to the park. I guess because we were late they did not make way for any chit chat.
Where they called park is a football pitch, which goes serene at night hours. A field fit for meditation. Other denominations do come there for prayers. This is not a lie, as we got at the park there were other people praying. I was a bit afraid as the place was looking gloomy. There was only one big fluorescent light which had even lost its sheen. Then oh, the other guys and ladies came from the center area, where normally they pass the ball to start a match.
Kpebu took control. “Tonight, I want us to call unto the Lord. We need to fight over 'principalities and powers. For him they represent the sum-total of evil powers that threaten men both heavenly and earthly’. Pray . . . pray . . . pray.” We had then formed a circle. I stood innocently by Kpebu. He was on my right side and Sharifa was at my left side. I was in the middle of them. Every one of them started speaking in tongues. Sharifa, a Muslim by birth, was also speaking eloquently in tongues. My prayers did not traverse beyond the Lord’s Prayer. Any other subject they would bring and asked that our prayers should fall within that box, I still held on to the Lord’s Prayer. That was all I knew: I was even shy.
But rather interesting, I could feel Kpebu’s index finger tickling my palm. If it was the boarding school, my mates would have interpreted it as a sex initiation. We are in the House of the Lord so thought like this had to be discarded. Kpebu is a nice and religious guy. So I doubt if my thinking is right — that his tickling of my palm means something else.
They ended the first phase of prayers. It lasted like fifteen minutes. Another one ensued. But this time I was tired, and all I said was “Lord help me to refrain from evil!” They continued with theirs. It was tongues so I did not know what they were saying but I knew it was something good.
TO BE CONTINUED…
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(UNEDITED)
NB: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
By Abdul Rahman Odoi
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