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You have gotten to church. Dressed in your yellow dress, your black hat, your pink shoes, your red lips, you are more colourful than the Cameroonian national flag. But do you care? No.
You welcome newcomers in the same tone that had once irritated you, slurring your words, “Geed evening! Welcome to service!”
Pastor Paul stands just ten feet away from you, looking debonair and prim in his Italian black suit. You are reminded of the Greek gods in cartoons; their well-sculpted bodies and their beautiful hairs.
When he says, “Church praise the lord!” You are the first to throw your arms in the air, lost in your exaggerated ardour.
You think it is imperative that he notices you so you begin to jump up and down, your arms and legs flailing about- Isn’t it obvious that the holy spirit has suddenly come upon you? You don’t mind that because of your short gown, a more than ample part of your skin is shown off. You like this. You are a predator for attention.
Lynda has just arrived. You watch her as she wades her way through the thick body of ushers that dot the aisle. Why is this babe late? Why is she wearing what she is wearing? You think. Doesn’t she know that skirt is too revealing for church? Does she think she’s going to a club?
When she reaches where you are sitting, you smile beautifully before you embrace her. Hushed but gleeful, you say, “My sister-how are you? You are looking very good o. I love your skirt o. Ahn ahn hot babes!!” “Eloho abeg abeg abeg I no get your time”, Lynda replies as, fervently, she kneels to pray.
You wonder about Lynda- This girl is married, but she’d still be forming single and be chasing young men about.
You pity her husband. That nice man. You recall the way he looks at you whenever Lynda leaves you both in their sitting room. Why does Lynda cheat on him? He’s so nice! You would visit him at his office one of these days. The man needs love and care.
It is testimony time. You are the first to get up and you hurry to the alter. Lynda is also quickly up. Follow follow!
You smile at her when she lines up behind you and you squeeze her palm in yours so that she is aware that she has your unwavering support.
“Church praise the lord!” The congregation responds, “Halleluyah!” “I said praise Jesus!… I want to thank God for directing me to this church. Two days ago, after the service, I met with Pastor Paul. He touched my head and told me I would have a blessed week. Yesterday, I got a promotion at my job! Praise the lord everybody!”
The congregation is frenzied! People clap their hands together enthusiastically while their eyes focus admiringly on Pastor Paul who is trying his best to look humbled by all the attention. He gets up and he waves his hands in the air, smiling that charming smile of his as he does.
There is a drumroll and the choir starts to render a tune, praising Jesus that you got a job. From the corner of your eyes you see the smile plastered across Pastor Paul’s face. The congregation has gotten even more vocal with their praise their Pastor was kissed by the stars. You are happy.
You feel his eyes on you as you walk down the aisle to take your sit so you sway your hips seductively, from left to right. The world is for people who know what they have and who know how to use it. The world is yours.
It is after you have taken your sit, amidst muffled voices congratulating you, that Lynda starts to talk. She thanks the church for giving her a new lease on life. She especially thank Pastor Paul because he has taught her more about the word. She starts to cry right there on the stage which is when you roll your eyes before Pastor Paul walks over to her with a handkerchief.
This irritates you, and as you are peeved, you start to count your teeth with your tongue. When Lynda walks down the three steps that lead up to the dais, you hurry to her and you smother her in kisses,
“My friend. It is well. The Lord has wiped away your tears.” Is what you say with so much concern in your tone. Over the din, you hear Pastor Paul’s voice as he warmly urges the fidgety congregation to be still.
All five hundred eyes in the well-lit hall remain focused on both of you, as you lead Lynda to her seat. There are sympathetic nods here and there; Yoruba women in their big red scarves, shaking their heads from side to side.
The service comes to an end after the call for tithes. Big fat men in gleaming white agbadas, clutching swollen brown envelopes, waddle clumsily to the space in front of the dais. They have brought their offering to God, as was commanded in the bible, and as is most solemnly encouraged every Sunday, without fail, by Pastor Paul.
Women that have applied so much foundation on their faces they look surreal also stumble out; their colourful faces, their short dresses, their exposed cleavages, draw a lot of nervous stares. One woman dances most exuberantly, off beat, yet she moves wantonly so that her well-rounded bum jiggles.
The agbada wearing men behind her, maintain steely faces, but their eyes are swollen pools of lust. The woman dances to the fore of the assembly before she dances backward into the short man behind her. You notice his wry smile but before your mind has the time to make something of it, she has danced to the front again.
Other women take their cue from her and the choir has gotten even more agitated as hit songs are severely dished out on a platter. Even the pianist is in the mood today, his head bobs about as he plays, and the hall reverberates with what is a concurrent symphony of melodious music.
So what are you waiting for? You get up and you show everybody that Eloho can dance as well. Pastor Paul’s eyes are on you and furtively, you wink at him.
He winks back.
Finally, the grace is shared. After the service you receive a message from Pastor Paul: Thank you for attending to Lynda. God bless you. I would like to see you in my office anytime you are free. Shallom!
You feel something electric between your thighs; that familiar tingle and you can’t wait to get home to that toy between your sheets.
Quickly, you reply : Okay sir! Wonderful sermon today! Shallom!
There is an incoming call, Dennis.
You sigh, abruptly ending the call, before you put your phone on airplane mode and zoom off the church’s premises.
It was a good day.
*
To be continued…
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