”Brethren! You must get that job this new year in jesus name !!!”
“Brethren!! You must build that house this new year in Jesus name!!!”
“Turn to your neighbor and say neighbor!!!you must buy that car this year in Jesus name!!!!!”
“Sisters, you must find that husband this new year!”
“Sisters, I say you must find that husband this year in Jesus nameeee!!!”
Ramasawawokankanzzzzzzi (I spoke in tongues to backup my untamable amen)
…3 secs later and pastor prophesied again……….
pastor: “church be silent. There are 10 yellow sisters in our midst. the lord said I should tell you that you will meet your husband this year.
If you are one of them shout a big amennn”…....
Amennnnnnnnnmmmmmm!!!……………… At this point my voice had literally broken the church ceiling and skyrocketed to heaven in an attempt to break heaven’s gate.
My amen was the winner of every amen ever said in the history of women who professed a husband into existence.
My amen was loud, aggressive, eloquent and unapologetic. If the length of that amen translated to my life span, 2,500 years from now when y’all would be dust in the ground, I’d still be here on earth effortlessly breaking the Guinness book of record for being the oldest woman ever liveth. In fact, I’d be the amadioha they’d be consulting before they take any drastic decision because I would have seen many past, present and future….
As my cacophonous amen ascended into heaven, the congregation took turns to look at me as if I was some violent human being but then again, what did the Bible say in Matthew 11:12 ?
Didn’t the Bible say the violent taketh it by force? Yes my name is peace. The girl who is mostly led by the spirit to take things by fire by force!
Besides, I wanted to make sure my Amen was first to arrive heaven because the pastor had said the husband available was strictly for 10 yellow sisters but to my surprise some dark skinned girls and other colored ones opened their very wild mouth and was shouting amen as if they did not hear that the 10 husbands-to-come preferred yellow sisters.
May someone not take what belongs to you because of your inability to shout a thunderous amen.
Leaving church at around 1am that crossover night, I had muttered short prayers of hitting that great job and being happy for the entirety of 2019. No sickness. No bad news. “It’ll surely be better than 2018”. I affirmed as I shoved my bible in my armpit and squeezed my way out amidst a thousand congregation who were now busy exchanging compliments;
“happy new year ooo”.
“Bro Donatus Did you travel to the east?”
“Brother Judas Kee Kwanu my
January was a great month. Nothing major happened in January. Januaries are never that serious you know. I spent my days and nights fantasizing about those 10 men the pastor had released for 10 yellow sisters. I sped off to google to search for sexy names I’d tell him to call me when we finally met because there was no way I’d let him call me Peace!
Peace is not a sexy name. It is more godly than sexy. Maybe when we are in church or doing morning devotion or fasting and prayer, calling me Peace would make a lot of sense, but Just imagine my man moaning peaccceee when we are doing the do.
My conscience will immediately whisper 1st Corinthians 10 vs 8 and when I don’t bulge, it will come again with “peace of God so you insist on committing fornication. What will it profit you to gain the whole world bet lose your soul”.
Even if my man & I got married and it’s no longer fornication since we’ve got license from God to do it, my conscience will still prick me. Immediately my man moans peaceeee, My conscience will creep in with, “ hmm peaceful peace. Ever since you got married this is what you now do from morning till night. When last did you go for morning cry?”
By the middle of January, I made serious plans to go self hosted because I had talked about it since 2018 but never actualized it. By January end, I enrolled myself in an institute to take a professional course. It was a skill I had always wanted to learn but let me admit I did it majorly to boost my very local and scanty CV because in this Nigeria my country,
February started great. I fantasized in wait for February 14. How on the 14th, I’d bump into that husband my pastor released on crossover night for 10 yellow sisters.
This was how it played out in my head:
I’d be on a queue to enter a keke to my learning center but then, a Benz would pull up in front of me with glass wound down. He’d look into my eyes and say “I am the husband released from heaven for you.
I’d rush into his car ASAP before some desperate girls would overtake me. I’d turn to him and say “my mother named me peace but call me sexy dolly”. He’d smile back in approval and say, “Bali or Greece, where do you want our honeymoon?”
The thought of this husband-to-come got me in my feelings, I was already thinking of names for our kids. I thought of who and who not to invite to our wedding and before i could say pim, my subconscious brought paper and biro and was blacklisting people. One particular category of people will be invited but they won’t be served food.
Feb 14 came and it turned out the driest feb 14 in the history of feb 14s! I dressed up for class looking like one candy that dropped from a vending machine incase I met my husband-to-come little did I know it was agberos I dressed up for.
You should have seen how these agberos took turns to do sssssiiihewww at me. With every ssssiiiiihewwwww and baby will you be my val they directed towards me, I said Godforbid, Holy Ghost fire and back to the sender because 2019 was definitely my year of elevation! Keke drivers, vulcanizers , mechanics and agberos were not supposed to see me this year!
That day, class was boring . I checked my phone at intervals yet no one thought it wise to send me any romantic text message. The only text I got was from mtn telling me how I had exceeded my borrowing limits so will not be eligible to borrow anymore credit.
Heading home, I thought to spice my Valentine’s Day all by myself so I bought shawarma. I got home, ran to my room, locked the door and put on the red light. I brought out the shawarma solely with my left hand & said, “Baby I love you. You are the best woman I have ever known. please take this shawarma as a token of my love for you ”. I accepted it with my right hand, blushed on my right cheek & went “thank you so much baby. love you too”!
…………i munched it……..
Fast forward to the end of February, joy absconded. My mom had traveled for Christmas only to come back sick -Village people handiwork 💯 . The day I went to see her, I didn’t know that would be my last time to be home for the rest of the month and more. We had called her doctor & he referred us to a specialist hospital because it was an emergency situation and he wasn’t in the country at that moment.
My mom was admitted and I was in the perfect position to stay with her amongst the rest of my siblings.
From the hospital, I’d go all the way to cds —thanks to my sister who brought few of my clothes + my very unattractive khaki to the hospital. I would also go to class from the hospital and by the time I got back, I’d be too tired to take care of a sick mom. Those days were sad.
I remember some of those nights, I’d stay up and keep my eyes fixedly on her just to make sure she was still breathing🙂
March came, my birthday month. I went for Cds on my birthday and afterwards, went back to the hospital. I received a cake I later shared with the nurses and family members who came to visit that day.
My family was happier because my mom was responding to treatment and her situation wouldn’t get as worse as we had predicted. It was in those little happy and relieving moments I realized the hospital was actually beautiful. It was serene and I was really comfortable. There was constant light and AC was on 24/7. Sometimes the cold in the room got me feeling like I was somewhere in England with Prince Harry. He wants to wife me but Meghan is proving stubborn.
We stayed in a private ward. We had a tv, toilet and bathroom to ourselves. The hospital had a kitchen upstairs where I warmed up food for my mom. We had already made food brought to us in bulk by family so all I did was store in the fridge and warm up when necessary.
The only problem I had was with the bed. It was so small you’d think the bed maker was inspired by midgets. Two people cannot successfully lay on it and be comfortable except one of them is a spirit. It was impossible for my mom and I to lay on it without rolling over each other. I could only lay on it when she wasn’t.
The nurses told me they had vacant beds in the other wards and I could go sleep there but if I did, how would I know when my mom needed something in the middle of the night? I asked them to give me a mat which i used to sleep in my mother’s ward and yes! There were severe consequences – body ache, cold.
One of those times I laid on the hospital bed, I peered through the window and saw this young man and woman standing in their balcony locked in a hug as if nothing else mattered in the world. I didn’t wait to consult amadioha to know if they were married or not. My only worry was the fact that they were getting closer and would start to kiss if holy spirit didn’t intervene.
I gathered my mom’s dirty clothes in a bucket and rushed off to the backyard of the hospital building where I knew they would see and hear me clearly. Hitting the bucket of clothes hard on the floor to make a grand entrance, i started singing one song my mom usually sang for us when we did bad thing “ 🎶 oh sinner, When Jesus comes, where will you be??
when the trumpet sounds,
where will you be!!!? 🎶
I kept walking in circles as i sang that song and the more i walked, the more my pitch increased until i used my side eye to see they had un-hugged themselves.
The spirit of public fornication eventually fled from them and they went inside to pray( I like to think positive).
March 14 was my P.O.P. After i collected my Nysc certificate in the noon of that day, I left for the hospital. Inside the bus, I sat beside this guy who had also just passed out. He initiated conversations on how he studied pharmacy and had worked in one pharmaceutical company.
Everything he said made him seem like a potential husband material. We exchanged numbers and he chatted me up the following day. What would have become a fairy tale ended when he said, “if you don’t mind …can you tell me more abt yourself”..
You guys need to understand we ladies hate that question. It irks us or is it just me? I legit haven’t replied that chat till date because i don’t have strength to write any composition about myself.
when i’m not in primary school.
One morning I went to the kitchen to warm up breakfast for my mom, I met this tall light skinned lady in the kitchen starring clueless at the stove. Apparently, her mom was admitted and she was trying to fix her something to eat. I didn’t know how long she had been standing there but as soon as she saw me she went, “sorry, any ideas on how to use this?”
“You mean the stove?”
“Yes please, the stove?” She replied in her soft British accent.
“Ehn ehn?? so all this while you have been standing here waiting for the award winning stove lighter. The village person that will help you light the stove abi? Ode!”
Of course I didn’t say any of that to her hearing. I really wanted to put on that stove without being dramatic but then I replied;
“Waw..are we twins? this is my first time seeing a stove too. I am use to gas and electric boilers gosh! who’s ganna help us light this stove now?”
my undiluted igbotic accent didn’t allow my American accent flourish in that time of adversary.
Few seconds of standing and looking at the stove, my subconscious wasn’t having any of it. Fuming and grumbling, “So it’s me that will teach you how to on stove abi? you have seen village girl. Me and you will stand here until Holy Spirit ons it for us”.
About 4mins later, I knew my mom
Would be hungry so I brought out my phone from my back pocket and said, “Let me google it”.
….. me that can on stove even when i’m sleep walking…
I put on the double burner kerosene stove, and as we both warmed our food, we conversed. she revealed she was based in London but came back mainly because her mother was ill.
she also wanted to use the opportunity to get her master’s certificate from Unilag. She was going to leave for London in about a week’s time.
The babe was a correct British babe o. Married to a British citizen and making British babies upandan. if not because i have the fear of God ehn, i would have asked her if her British husband needs a second wife.
She went ahead to ask me how she’d go about collecting her master’s certificate and how long it’d take. Me that only know about birth certificate and Nysc certificate collection..
I immediately humbled myself and started calling her aunty Incase she had extra visa in her bag she was giving out.
Looking back, I remember how unhappy and frustrated I was. Crying every now and then when explaining my mom’s situation to friends who cared to know. God bless those of you. I will never be able to repay you.
I’ve come to realize that nothing actually lasts forever. Pain, joy, happiness, whatever it is. happiness isn’t consistent. Nothing else is. Remember a time you thought you had a perfect life,yet it managed to crumble right in your face? Either ways, We just have to make the best of every situation.
Still waiting for the prayers I made on crossover night to manifest. the job, house, car and the husband. Where’s my chevron job biko?
You people that I begged to connect me with your very rich uncles, why are you people not allowing Christ to use you? y’all still remember I am part of the angels that will be removing people’s names from the book of life on the last day abi? Ok!