I was junkie. I was hooked to daddy, I wanted more of him after each encounter (er, there’s no pun there) and I made sure he knew. On his part, he made concessions, compromised like I had never seen him do and we carried on for a year. Oh, what a glorious year that was, then it began.
My friend Funmi’s mum was celebrating her fiftieth and I was invited to the thanksgiving service. In hindsight, maybe I shouldn’t have gone, see, Funmi’s mum attended Cele, and though I got to the church around one p.m. the service was still on.
I sat outside of course (can’t be taking off my shoes and doing all that… no offence to people who go to the church), under the tent chatting with friends from school and other acquaintances I made there. That was when it happened.
She was gyrating like a chicken that had lost its head. I watched with disdain as she made her way towards our table. Her antics captivated me so; I couldn’t tear my eyes off her. Then she stopped in front of me, tapped me on the shoulder and turned round to leave. I sat still whilst the people around advised me that I was supposed to follow the prophetess inside the church to hear the message from God, obviously, she was in a trance and could hear God directly. I laughed at them. ‘That one can hear God, abegi!’
I was fixing to leave when she came back again. She stood in front of me and our eyes locked. No way was I capitulating to a deluded woman who thought she could see God. That contest lasted less than a minute and she realized she was no match for me, so she used tact.
‘You are being stubborn, instead of coming to privately hear what the spirit has for you…’ she was glaring. Didn’t I say she couldn’t hear or see God? ‘Spirit’ what spirit exactly I wondered. I was lost in the train of thought when she completed, ‘… I will deliver the message right here.’
My eyebrow arched, ‘what message? Please carry your drunken self away from here.’ I had carried my bag now and was ready to push off the lady if she would not get out of my way. Needless to say, the people around were all scandalised and viewing our exchange with rapt attention. No one made any move to come between us.
She stepped off ever so slightly. ‘Listen good,’ she called after me. ‘You have a special relationship with your father that you need to end. Then you will need to confess to the other parties involved – your mother and brothers. If they forgive you, then your life may still head in the way the creator desired, otherwise, not only will you bring untold hardship to your family, your end will be most grievous. There, I have said what the spirit asked me to say to you.’
I was fuming now, I turned round enraged, I was going to kill the lousy prophetess. The people around saw the look in my eyes and stepped between us. ‘If your father doesn’t love you, how is that my business? Stop trying to project your woes onto other people claiming to be a prophet. I have a wonderful family and my father loves all his kids the same.’ Having said my piece, I disentangled myself from the people holding me, turned round and left. I did not care one bit how that incident would affect my relationship with Funmi.
The onslaught didn’t end there, a week later; I was strolling to my car after shopping. The man who had been preaching there by the roadside suddenly stopped his message. ‘There’s a young lady passing by now who can hear my voice. You are sleeping with your father; the Lord says you should stop this atrocious act, repent and confess to members of your family. Their decision whether or not to forgive will determine how long your walk to redemption will take. I say again, desist!’ then he went back to his original message.
All through the drive home, I kept thinking. The same message from two different people in the course of a week directed at me. Maybe if I get the same message once more within the next week, then I may start considering seriously the implications the message carried. Meanwhile, my phone was ringing, daddy had gotten to our rendezvous point and as usual was getting antsy that I was late. Time to go give the piper his due…