Oru Mu: Midday
This story is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, incidents and dialogues are a figment of my imagination – most definitely inspired by God, and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organisations, persons living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
At the top of her game, the God-fearing Bola Ifetomi is the person everyone wants to know - she's connected and successful, all this despite her unfavourable upbringing. Not only is her career thriving, she’s been married to the best of the best - Duro Ifetomi, for five years. Bola has the perfect life, she has it all! But Bola doesn't believe so - she thinks her life is incomplete and imperfect, how long must she wait? Just like her upbringing, everybody she knows has something she wants, it’s almost teasing. Oru Mu is the Yoruba phrase for “it’s hot” - will Bola be able to withstand the sudden heat when her perfect life begins to show imperfect lines? How far will Bola go to obtain what she wants most and at what cost?
“But to Hannah he gave a double portion because he loved her, and the Lord had closed her womb. Whenever the day came for Elkanah to sacrifice, he would give portions of the meat to his wife Peninnah and to all her sons and daughters. Because the Lord had closed Hannah’s womb, her rival kept provoking her in order to irritate her. This went on year after year. Whenever Hannah went up to the house of the Lord, her rival provoked her till she wept and would not eat.”
1 Samuel 1:4-7 NIV
INTRO
“There’s the catch up this Thursday night right, before you head off for your tour?” Bola asked as she was updating her calendar on her phone. She had become obsessed with checking her calendar, not wanting to miss important dates, planning her work trips, cross-checking her husband’s schedule, counting down days and counting them up. Time - she was always checking for the right time.
“Yeah B, there is. I wish I could stay longer but business calls and I don’t want to keep my taxi waiting…” Sharon Starr, Nigeria’s hottest musician and one of her best friends had come by to collect her things after Tara’s wedding another of their close friends, but Bola really wasn’t listening to what Sharon was saying, she barely noticed Sharon’s anxious and hurried behaviour because she had been checking her calendar, it was Sharon’s unwarranted hug that finally caught her attention.
“I really appreciate you and the ladies you know. This past weekend with you girls was the absolute best.” Why did Sharon sound like something was coming to an end? Or that something was about to start? The embrace was heartfelt, that much Bola knew but she didn’t know where it came from. Between the monitoring of her time and Sharon’s out-of-character embrace, Bola wasn’t quick enough to reply or ask a question, before Sharon sped out of the door.
“Is that a taxi she’s getting into?” Bola wondered because she was sure NJ, Sharon’s husband, had driven her to the house.
She waved at her friend, shut the door, and sighed when the notification popped up on her phone telling her it wasn’t the right time. Bola was frustrated, but little did she know that this moment in time was going to change everything.
**
Omobolanle Ifetomi was a beauty, not your typical kind, a rare kind. Her dark and even-toned skin was a perfect blend of roasted coffee and the richest chocolate, on her head sat a bouquet of full afro curls; on most days Bola’s hair would be neatly brushed back and held in a ponytail, while the curls showed off their form at the end. Bola’s husband, Duro, often called her ‘sweetie’, a pet-name so fitting because God must have been making dessert when He created her. Bola was indeed a sweetie: caring, thoughtful and hardworking. As a leading branding consultant at The Parable Agency, Bola was the ‘It Girl’ because she was a natural storyteller and everything she worked on was successful.
It was the Tuesday after Tara and Adeiye’s wedding and Bola had already planned to take time off from work to rest and catch up with herself. As she had been feeling spent and had nothing left to offer, the week off would be used to refocus and get back on schedule.
“Hey sweetie!”
Bola was startled when she felt a kiss planted on her cheek.
“Oh, hey Duro… I didn’t hear you.” She replied somewhat embarrassed.
“I know, I’ve been standing here for five minutes waiting for you to look up. What are you thinking about again? I’ve told...”
“What else would I be thinking about Duro?” Bola snapped, she hated when Duro downplayed what they were going through or made it seem like she had better things to do.
“You know what, never mind. Tonight I just want us to chill and catch up. I feel like we haven’t seen much of each other. You know, like seen, seen each other.” Duro smirked as he leaned forward to give Bola another kiss, but before he could, Bola had pushed him away as she got up from the couch.
“No, Duro. Today isn’t a good day. I checked the app - I’m most likely to get pregnant if we see each other next week.” Bola was trying to rush out of the living room before Duro could say anything.
“Oh my gosh Bola!! Really?”
“Yes! Really! Why do I feel like I’m the only one who wants children?”
“I’ve never said that I don’t want children and you know it!”
“Well you have a very interesting way of showing it. If having sex next week will increase my chances of getting pregnant, why can’t you wait?”
“But Bola!” Duro had had enough, “You know sex isn’t just for making babies?!”
Bola was about to get furious when they both heard loud banging on the front door.
“Are you expecting anyone?” Duro asked, irritated.
Bola shook her head, “No, Sharon already came by this morning.”
The banging continued. Duro checked the peep hole to see it was NJ at the door. What could he possibly want?
“BOLA! WHERE IS SHARON?!” NJ almost fell into the house, angry and tipsy.
“AY! NJ! WHAT THE HECK MAN!” Duro used all his strength to hold NJ back from pouncing on Bola. “WHAT’S GOING ON?”
“IT’S YOUR WIFE THAT NEEDS TO ANSWER THAT QUESTION! WHERE IS SHARON - IS SHE HIDING HERE?” NJ screamed.
“NJ! Sharon isn’t here! It’s just Bola and I at home.”
“I don’t believe you! SHARON! SHARON!” NJ screamed at the top of his lungs as his crazy eyes surveyed the area as if he had infrared glasses on.
“GUY! SHARON! IS! NOT! HERE!! WHAT’S GOING ON?!” Duro was livid now - why would a grown man like NJ be looking for his wife in their home.
Again, NJ tried pushing past Duro to get in further and search the house himself, but in a split second a firm fist knocked the air out of NJ; Bola screamed with shock, she’d never seen Duro fight before. Punching NJ was the only thing Duro could do to stop NJ from taking another step into his home and potentially harm Bola - it was the rage in NJ’s eyes that convinced Duro that NJ was there to fight Bola. Hunched over, NJ staggered backwards into the driveway trying to catch his breath, inevitably he fell, wheezing and gasping for air.
Duro and Bola gave each other a concerned look as they approached NJ who was now outside laying on the concrete floor.
“NJ! Are you mad? What is going on?” Duro asked angrily as he helped NJ sit up against a parked car while Bola worriedly maintained some distance.
“It’s Sharon.” NJ coughed still trying to catch his breath while in pain. “I… haven’t… seen… her… all… day.”
“So because you haven’t seen your wife today, that’s why you want to come fight with mine?”
“You… don’t under...stand…” NJ whimpered.
“You’re right, I don’t.” Duro looked to his wife, “Bola, have you heard from Sharon since she left here this morning? Did she tell you she was going anywhere?”
“No. No, I haven’t spoken to her and she only mentioned heading back to…” Truthfully Bola couldn’t remember what they spoke about in the morning, but she couldn’t let NJ know that. “...she said she was heading back to see you. She gave me a hug and got in a taxi and that’s it.”
ONE
3 months later, London, UK
I’m sitting here staring out the window behind my client, I recite my lines - my sales pitch, but I don’t mean a word. They don’t know that though, my client believes everything I’m saying, I can tell by how he sits that he’s going to say yes, but still I’m looking out of the window.
I’m tired, frustrated, pissed off actually and my problem is figuring out at who. Me? Duro? Sharon? God?
“It’s a great idea. I love the campaign, and I think it’ll translate well in the West African market.” My client gleefully replies, why wouldn’t he? Am I not Omobolanle Ifetomi? I do this.
Meeting done. Time to get ready to head to the airport.
WHATSAPP MESSAGE FROM PRINCESS:Hey B! Here’s the flyer for Prophet Godwin’s deliverance and impartation night. It’s this weekend. You’re back tomorrow morning, right? Let me know how we’re planning to get to the event.
Fictional church guys! LOL
Princess is a cool person. Extra sometimes, but cool. She gets it, she gets me. She’s been raving about this Prophet Godwin Freeman for ages now. A modern-day miracle worker - single women have found husbands, jobless men have found jobs, barren women have birthed children, his Instagram page is full of testimonies, and I swear I’m next!
WHATSAPP MESSAGE FROM HUSBAE: Hey Sweetie! How did the meeting go? Can’t wait to see you tomorrow. Love U.
My Duro. My favourite gift. I wonder how he puts up with me? I know he gets tired, I know I stress him sometimes, but it’s all for us. I love this man and all I want to do is give him a child. Is that too much to ask?
Duro and I have been married for five years but we’ve been together for eight. It’s been a rollercoaster for sure, but I can’t imagine being on this ride without him.
“Oluwadurotimi Samuel Ifetomi, son of HRH Prince Obafemi Ifetomi and socialite Celestina Ifetomi, marries unknown commoner, Omobolanle in small court wedding.” Nigerian headlines for you - they called me an ‘unknown commoner’. The headline brought back so many memories of my childhood and despite my success even then, I was still unknown. It’s funny though, the newspapers and the blogs that rendered me nameless and not worth knowing, are the same ones that request to work with me. I proved them wrong, the same way I promised myself to prove my father wrong.
Duro and I met in Manchester, where we were both doing our Masters. It was a Thursday evening and I had been invited to a Christian fellowship being held by Duro and some of his friends, but I didn’t know this at the time. When my friend and I arrived, it was Duro who opened the door with the most amazing smile and I was smitten. It took a while for Duro to muster up the courage to ask me out, but he did eventually and we’ve been together ever since then.
Why is my phone going off like this?
WHATSAPP MESSAGE FROM TARA AC: Bola! Call me when you’re free, it’s URGENT!
WHATSAPP MESSAGE FROM OPE: B! Have you seen the news, our girl is back oh! I bet NJ…
WHATSAPP MESSAGE FROM WURA: CALL ME!!!
WHATSAPP MESSAGE FROM PRINCESS: Check the latest on On The Beat. WAHALA DE!
MISSED CALLS: HUSBAE (3)“Hey Duro, what’s going on? I’ve just seen your missed calls.”
“Erm, Bola, it’s Sharon.
“What about her?”
“Sharon is back in Lagos.”
“What? You’re sure?”
“Yeah, I’ll send you the link. She was seen at the airport this morning.”
My throat is suddenly dry and my heart is beating way too fast. Sharon is back?
“Sweetie are you there?”
“Yes, yes… Sharon is back?”
“Bola, I suspect that NJ is going to start making calls, whatever you do, don’t pick up and don’t reply to any messages. Just get to Lagos safely and we can figure this out when you get here, ok?”
“Yeah, send me the link. I’ll see you… I’ll see you tomorrow morning.”
Did I hear correctly? Sharon, who has been missing for three months, was seen in Lagos today? After everything her wild husband put me through, she just shows up all of a sudden? I must be going crazy.
WHATSAPP MESSAGE FROM HUSBAE: Link from On the Beat Music TV.
MISSING POP SENSATION, SHARON STARR, SEEN IN AIRPORT - VIDEO.
I’ve played the clip back a thousand times just to make sure it’s her. It’s Sharon.
Her ring is missing, her face is round and then I saw it. To an untrained eye, she’d just put on weight, but for someone like me, an expert, I see it.
I’m sick of this! I’m tired! Wasn’t three months of madness enough? When will it be me? First Peju and now Sharon. God, are you trying to make me jealous so I can sin and then you can be done with me forever, because I don’t get this torment?!
Keep it far from me, I pray. Change my heart, I cry and You don’t do anything. Instead it’s more children and none of them are ever mine!
Sharon is alive, she is in Lagos and she’s flipping pregnant!
**
Lagos, Nigeria
I dread getting off this plane. I usually take night flights so I can sleep and make the most of the day when I land, but tonight sleep avoids me as if to say I’ve offended it.
My back hurts, my eyes are sore and my head is banging.
I listened to Duro - I haven’t replied any messages and there are many. What do they want me to say? I have no words. No words for them and no words for God.
Sharon is pregnant. I wonder who for? Wait till NJ finds out. It’s going to be a mess. I wonder where she’s been all this time and with who?
**
We’ve landed and I’m scared. I can’t help thinking that something bad is about to happen. The last time I ever felt like this was back at dad’s, before I was… something bad is going to happen.
I see Duro waiting for me, my fears increase, I’m sweating as if I’ve run a marathon and my stomach is uneasy. I’m not ok.
“Bola? Are you ok?” Duro looks concerned as he takes my bag from me.
“I just need fresh air.” At least that’s what I think will help. Duro leans to kiss my forehead, but my body sways involuntarily and Duro catches me as he exclaims my name.
“You didn’t sleep did you? Have you even eaten anything since yesterday?”
“No, I… I didn’t.” My voice sounds raspy and foreign.
“Let’s get going, we can stop by the hospital on our way home.”
“No, it’s not necessary, I just want to go home.” I plead with Duro, the last place I need to be in is a hospital.
Lagos sun has no regard for us, even at this early hour the heat is disrespectful. Thankfully I have my sunglasses on, my tired eyes can’t take the glare of the sun. I do not want to see, neither do I want to be seen.
The air conditioner in the car blows on me, but it’s as if the heat of the sun followed me into the car. I’ll just have to endure, hopefully the traffic is still light. It would be great if Duro could stop talking though. He keeps asking questions about my health, what I ate or didn’t eat, he was about to mention Sharon’s name, but he held his tongue. I want to tell him to shut up, but I don’t have the strength.
“Lillian’s assistant came by yesterday to drop your dress off.” Duro is still talking.
What dress? I didn’t order a dress from Lillian.
As if Duro heard my thoughts he answers, “You remember? Your dress for Peju’s baby’s naming ceremony on Sunday.”
“STOP!”
“Huh?”
“Sto… STOP THE CAR!”
I don’t think Duro stopped the car before I launched out of it like a stunt woman. Hunched over a gutter I threw up. Remnants of M&S sandwiches from the client meeting violently left my body, bile followed the more I heaved. I emptied myself, there was nothing else left in me.
There’s been nothing left in me.
Now we’re on our way to the hospital.
TWO
Days after Sharon’s arrival, Ope, Wura, Tara and Bola all sat silently passing curious glances at each other. The ladies had decided and planned with Sharon’s mother to visit, the sooner they met the better, especially for Bola.
Bola was careful not to tell Duro about her plans for the day or he would have told her to stay home to rest, but she couldn’t, she had to see Sharon.
“Hey ladies.” Sharon greeted, sounding unsure as she entered the living room.
“Sharon!” Tara, Wura and Ope said in unison, all standing to embrace their prodigal friend.
“We’re so happy to see you!” Ope said standing at an angle observing Sharon.
“I bless The Lord that you’re safe. We thought…” Tara was quick to shed tears.
“We just thank God that you’re safe and you’re back!” Wura added, completing Tara’s sentence.
Pleasantries and thanksgiving to God were recited for two minutes before they realised that Bola still sat in her seat observing the celebration.
“B. Bola. I erm. I’m sor…” Sharon sounded scared.
“Sorry?!” Bola shouted, which caused Sharon to jump and subconsciously wrap her hand on her stomach, a reaction only Bola noticed.
“Bola, please. I’m sorry. I wish I could have told you that day, but I couldn’t.”
“You couldn’t or you didn’t want to? Sharon! I was the last person to see you the day you left! The least you could have done was give me the heads up!” Bola was pacing the living room reliving that day, re-experiencing the guilt she felt for not paying attention to Sharon, going over the argument she had with Duro and how NJ interrupted them.
“Do you know what NJ put me through these past few months? DO YOU?” Bola demanded.
“NJ? What did he do? I hope he didn’t harm you?” Sharon spoke reactively before she realised what she had asked. Tara averted eye contact with Bola and took her seat, Wura and Ope followed.
“Harm me ke? He dare not! But with the stalking for the first month - showing up at my house, my office, my church - claiming I knew where you were, that was enough harm! Oh, and let’s not talk about the police questioning…” Bola was on a roll before she paused, “Wait! Did NJ harm you?”
The women sat solemnly as Sharon filled them in about her life with NJ, why she left and importantly that she was no longer going by ‘Sharon Starr’ and instead they were to call her by her given name Semilore. They spoke, they advised and wept in prayer for Sharon and thanked God for keeping her safe, they laughed at fond memories, it was like old times again, except it wasn’t. Bola kept checking the time, she had to meet Princess later, but she was also checking for how long they’d all sit without Sharon admitting that she was pregnant.
Like an unspoken rule, conversations about babies was something the women avoided because of how it triggered Bola, but today Bola grew restless and initiated the topic - a surprise to the others.
“Shar… I mean Semilore, you’ve added weight oh! But it’s good weight.” She smiled hoping it’ll ease the awkward silence now in the room.
“I, erm,” Sharon stuttered unable to maintain eye contact, “erm, there’s something I actually need to tell you all.”
“What?” The ladies shifted uneasily in their seats.
“I’m pregnant.” Sharon released her breath.
“Wow! Congrat…” another round of thankful pleasantries to God was about to start before Bola interrupted.
“What?! How? For who?”
“For who else?” Wura responded sarcastically, giving an annoyed look to Bola.
“For NJ.” Sharon whispered. Admitting this made her palms sweat.
“You’re sure it’s NJ’s?” Bola pressed as she grew hot inside.
“Bola, I don’t like what you’re implying. I found out I was pregnant a few days after leaving Lagos.”
“So you’re three months pregnant? Have you booked your appointments?” Tara quizzed.
“Have you told NJ?” Ope followed.
“One thing at a time. Yes, I have a doctor and a few appointments scheduled. I haven’t told NJ yet, I will tell him, but not yet. Ladies, promise me you won’t tell anyone?” Sharon asked worriedly.
Tara, Wura and Ope agreed not to tell NJ because it was inevitable that he’d come to see them now Sharon was back.
“Bola? Promise me, please?” Sharon asked. “I know NJ is close with Peju’s husband, please promise me.”
“I won’t tell anyone.” Bola replied as if under duress. Sharon was one of her best friends, she understood what she did and why she had to do it, Sharon’s situation was a life or death thing, but did she have to come back pregnant and for an abusive man of all people? Bola concluded that God’s baby dispatch operation was in disarray.
Sharon rose to give Bola a hug, apologising again and thanking her for being a great friend, not before whispering “Yours is coming soon. I know it.”
Bola offered an insincere smile and announced that she had to leave.
“Ah why? Stay na.” Ope asked.
“I can’t, I’m meeting up with Princess.” Bola bent over to put her shoes on.
“Princess again?” Wura asked concerned. “I don’t like that girl o.”
“Who is Princess?” Sharon whispered to Tara.
“Yes! With Princess again!” Bola rolled her eyes.
“Where are you going?” Ope asked again.
“House of Refuge Assembly is hosting Prophet Godwin for a deliverance service and we’re going. And Tara don’t worry, your father-in-law won’t be there, he stepped down as lead Pastor.”
At the mention of Prophet Godwin’s name Ope jumped. “Bola. Bola! Please I take God beg you, don’t go to this thing. That man isn’t a Prophet.” Ope’s plea came from deep within. They all knew that Ope was the skeptic but something about how she pleaded caught the attention of Bola’s conscience.
“You take God beg me?” Bola scoffed, “You take God beg ME? It’s the same God I’m going to beg, since He is distributing babies anyhow, maybe when I beg Him He’ll give me mine too!”
Bola was never rude to anyone, she never spoke sideways about God, this was out of character so much so that the women sat stunned as they watched Bola leave the house as if she were going to war.
THREE
“Princess, I’m outside.”
Bola was still angry even after the thirty-minute drive to Princess’ apartment, and that’s what bothered her. She’d never been the angry type even when she had the right to be angry. Naturally Bola was a peacekeeper, but these days she found her fuse was extremely short. It was the knock on the door that brought her back to reality.
Princess, a slender, all-legs and bright-eyed social media influencer and Bola’s junior colleague at The Parable, entered the car dressed and made up as if they were heading to a party and not to church.
“Princess? To where o?” Bola was confused.
“Hello to you too. Ah, they say dress as you want to be addressed, today someone will address me as their wife oooo!” Princess laughed while adjusting her seat belt. “Let’s go na, we’ll be late.”
Strangely, in that moment Wura’s words echoed in Bola’s ears, “Princess again? I don’t like that girl o.” Bola dismissed the reminder the same way she had done earlier.
Approaching the church, there had been a queue of cars entering the grounds - apparently the whole of Lagos had shown up to receive a word from Prophet Godwin, everyone wanted a miracle. It took about twenty minutes for them to get into the car park, and another ten minutes to find somewhere to park.
“Princess, you’re sure this Prophet is legit and not like the other one we saw a few weeks ago?” Bola needed to be sure because she felt like she shouldn’t have come.
“Bola, why are you talking like this? Look around you.” Princess pointed, “If Prophet Godwin wasn’t the real deal, would all these people be here? Just be ready to get your fruitful blessing today!” Princess touched Bola’s belly and locked arms with her, almost dragging Bola into the church auditorium for fear that she would turn around and leave.
The worship music evoked ‘the spirit’ of God to come down, even before Prophet Godwin took to the pulpit to share a word, some people were already slain as he walked past their seats. Emotions were high, men and women alike were hysterical, crying their eyes out to God for the various blessings they yearned for.
Prophet Godwin Freeman, that wasn’t his real name, he was born Ashimawo Babatunde. He gave his testimony of how his name changed from Ashimawo, which means “We will keep watching” to Godwin.
“My parents were told by the traditional priest that I wouldn’t survive a day after birth. That I belonged to the ancestors of the land and they needed me back with them. BUT GOD WON!!”
While wiping his well-earned sweat, the congregation screamed, applause was given, and the musicians matched the spiritual mood.
With an American-next-to-English-definitely-Nigerian accent, Prophet Godwin continued excitedly, “I don’t think-AH! That You! UNDERSTAND-AH WHAT I’M SAYING-AH! GOD WHAT?”
“GOD WON!!” The congregation participated in the call-and-response.
“GOD WON-AH! In the spirit, God showed me the Earth and a new name above it, that name was GODWIN! I need you to listen to me, don’t miss this.” Bola sat mesmerised by the Prophet, watching as he pranced from one end of the stage to the next, any discomfort she had felt before had now gone, she blamed the feeling on the enemy not wanting her to get her blessing.
“GOD SAID TO ME-AH, THAT I WOULD WIN SOULS FOR HIM THROUGH SIGNS AND WONDERS, HE SAID THAT PEOPLE-AH, WILL NO LONGER-AH WATCH ME-AH TO SEE-AH IF I’D LIVEEEEE, BUT INSTEAD THEY’LL WATCH ME TO SEE! OH COME ON SOMEBODY!! THEY’LL WATCH TO SEE! TO SEE!!! HOW GOD WHAT?!”
“GOD WINS!” This time Bola joined in. Everyone rose to praise God for Godwin’s testimony.
“Turn to your neighbour and say ‘I have won!’” They turned repeating the same declaration to each other. Prophet Godwin, with a thoughtful look on his face, allowed the interaction to continue for a few seconds before starting again.
“The spirit is here… yes, yes! Use me Lord.” Prophet Godwin swayed listening to the spirit.
“I had a word to share tonight,” he lied, “but I’m going by the instruction of the spirit now. I hear the word barrenness - I’m talking specifically about childlessness.” Bola gasped and exchanged looks with Princess who gave her an “I-told-you-so” smile.
Prophet Godwin continued, “If you’re a man or woman struggling with infertility please come forth now! Don’t delay, don’t waste the spirit’s time. Come now! Come now! Come now! Musicians, please play war-like sounds, the spirit says we’re going to war against barrenness tonight.” The musicians complied with sounds Hans Zimmer would be proud of, while men and women ran and pushed past each other to get to the front of the altar - it was a frenzy of ill-equipped soldiers going to a war that didn’t exist. But for Bola this war was real and in her desperation, she quickened her pace.
“Form three lines. Form three lines! For women who came alone please stand in front, for men who came alone, form another line behind and for couples please form the third line. Please be quick, the spirit wants to do work!” Prophet Godwin broke out in ‘heavenly tongues’ for emphasis.
Bola made it to the front, right in the centre, her eyes were closed as she stood ready to receive her blessing, little did she know that she had caught the attention of Prophet Godwin (while he was in the spirit of course).
“Shhhhh, let’s be quiet. Musicians, play softly please. OK, for all the women standing here, place your right hand on your stomach, for the men, place your right hand on your machine.” He laughed a dirty laugh as he gave his instructions, “I told you this is war! Repeat after me!”
The strong smell of skin bleaching cream and expensive perfume made Bola’s nose turn slightly, the Prophet was standing in front of her, but she dared not open her eyes and get distracted. Even if he smelt like a pollutant she would get her blessing from him, she began to sweat when she realised his proximity to her, but she also felt that something wasn’t right, but again it was the enemy attacking her and this was war.
“Wait! Wait! Wait! Before you pray this powerful prayer, I don’t think you people know the significance of your right hand? I need you to understand something. The ‘right’ is a symbol of goodness, wealth, power! In the spirit realm I see that some of you have been reaching for blessings with your ‘left’ instead of your ‘right’. Your right hand is your hand of POSSESSION AND POWER! SO, PLACE YOUR HAND, HOLD AND GRAB WHATEVER IS NECESSARY AND REPEAT AFTER ME:
“OOOO LORD!”
“O LORD!” Bola screamed hoping to get God’s attention.
“EVERY GENERATIONAL CURSE FROM MY MOTHER OR FATHER’S SIDE DESIGNED TO KEEP ME BARREN! SHOULD DIE BY FIRE!”
The Prophet instructed that everyone demand their blessings from God and uproar ensued; the Prophet walked past the front line praying in a mysterious language touching the women with his hand of power. At the anointing of the ‘man of God’, women fell like dominos, the anointing was so much that it overflowed to the men and couples in the rows behind.
Bola stayed focused on her prayer, waiting her turn while holding her stomach tightly and hitting it hard as she repeated “die by fire” over and over again. She had been dying from childlessness for five years so she couldn’t care less if the prayer found it’s intended victim on any side of her family or that of Duro’s; if it meant holding her child, then anybody responsible for the generational curse attacking her hollow womb would surely die by fire. That’s when she smelt the Prophet, he stood before her, she kept her eyes closed but the darkness from her eyelids grew darker, he placed his hand of power on her stomach, enclosing her sore hand in his. He leaned in to her and whispered tongues and prayers in her ears as he rubbed her stomach up and down. He prayed but it didn’t sound like he was praying to God, he was praying to her, it was sensual. Bola wouldn’t have the enemy try to distract her this close to her blessing, she rebuked the devil. Prophet Godwin leaned further, this time his hand was resting on her breasts.
“He’s a man of God! This is for my blessing.” Bola repeated trying to convince herself that there was nothing wrong with the Prophet Godwin Freeman laying his hand of power on her. As if the Prophet knew doubt was settling in her mind, he blew in her ear and shouted “RECEIVE IT!”
Bola fell crying tears of distress, hitting her stomach, mumbling “DIE BY FIRE! DIE BY FIRE!” repeatedly.
**
To Duro, Bola was the most prim and proper woman he had ever met, she carried herself with dignity and pride but on this night Duro could not believe the sight of his wife as she stumbled through the front door of their house at some minutes to midnight sweating as if she had been chased home.
“Bola!” He ran towards her to embrace her, but thought better of it, telling how drenched her silk pink blouse was. “Where the heck are you coming from at this time? I’ve been calling you all night!” Bola’s appearance broke his heart, this wasn’t her, it was someone else.
With all the strength Bola had left she pushed Duro’s hands off her shoulders and looked up at him rolling her eyes.
“I was out with the girls…”
“You went to see Sharon, why didn’t you tell me?”
“And, I erm, went to church with Princess.” Bola was hesitant because she knew Duro wouldn’t be happy about this, but she couldn’t keep it a secret from him. “Prophet Godwin Fr…”
“You went for that service after I told you not to go?” Duro was annoyed.
“Listen Duro, I don’t have the energy to do this tonight, let’s talk about it in the morning. I’m tired.” Bola was exhausted from replaying her experience in her mind as she drove home, she couldn’t describe how she was feeling but part of her felt dirty.
“Bola!! I’ve told you, stop going to see these dodgy people who name-drop God for profit! When will you listen, God will…”
“I beg!! I beg oh, Duro! Before you say another word, gather yourself well! I’ve been out travailing and fighting unknown things in the spirit for us and you claim I’m meeting with dodgy prophets, if anyone is dodgy it’s you!” Bola’s pride and her prayers were at stake and she had to defend them, even if it meant doing so against Duro.
“Me, Bola?”
“Yes, you! You’re just like my father, never in my corner instead you keep looking for any opportunity to bash me.” Bola couldn’t stop now.
“What has your father got to do with this?”
She ignored Duro’s confused question, “Sometimes I wonder if you even want children because you seem so unbothered by my childlessness. Move out of my way, I don’t have time for this late-night nonsense.” Bola tutted as she pushed past her husband, she couldn’t have Duro see the fear in her eyes at the possibility that he might be right about Prophet Godwin.
“Our childlessness.” Duro said faintly.
Bola turned back at her husband with a puzzled face.
“You said, ‘my childlessness’ - but it’s not, it’s our childlessness. Remember that the next time you meet with another one of your so-called prophets.” Duro shook his head watching as his fraying wife walked away from him.
FOUR
The sun crept through the slight gaps of their bedroom blinds waking Bola up. She hadn’t realised that she had her hand of power on her stomach, but despite feeling agitated remembering the night before, she saw it as a sign to repeat the prayer point. Prophet Godwin may be strange, but it didn’t mean her prayers wouldn’t be answered.
She whispered to her stomach, “Every generational curse from my mother or father’s side designed to keep me barren! Should die by fire! I am fruitful in Jesus’ Name!”
Feeling satisfied, she turned over to look at her husband - she knew her attitude was off and she wanted to apologise to him, but he wasn’t there on their bed, which was odd. She checked the time; it was midday on a Sunday! She got up in a hurry, thinking why Duro hadn’t woken her up. She beelined to the kitchen where she found Duro cooking.
“You’re up, hope you slept well?” Duro asked with his back towards Bola.
Duro wasn’t a man who kept grudges and Bola knew this, but she had never seen him this upset before.
“Yeah, I did. You should have woken me up though, we missed church.” Bola replied.
“Nah. I thought it was better we skip church today and besides you looked so tired when you got back this morning, you definitely needed to rest. It’s been a crazy week.” He closed the spice cabinet after seasoning his famous corned beef stew for the yam he had boiling on the stove.
Bola swallowed her guilt, stammering as she started to apologise, “I’m sorry about what I said. I shouldn’t have said those things to you. How I behaved was totally out of line. I’m sorry.”
Duro stopped stirring the stew and switched the heat off, turning to look at his wife for the first time since she walked into the kitchen.
“Bola, what you said last night hurt me a lot…”
“I know, and I’m sorry.”
“...but what hurts me most is seeing you run up and down the city looking for the next three-wish genie prophet that claims he or she can perform miracles for the childless. These people are taking you for a ride, we don’t need prophets or pastors to pray for us, we can do that ourselves. Jesus hears us too..”
“I, know, but…”
“...Bola, my fear is that your unbelief will have dire consequences as you chase a gift that only God can give.” Duro paused thoughtfully. “Ok, so let’s say we get pregnant today, who would you give the glory to - God or Prophet Godwin? You need to search your heart Bola - I don’t know who is chasing you because I’ve never pressured you about children. We've done every medical test you’ll have us do and the doctors all say we’re healthy and very capable of having children, so what more do you want?”
Bola stayed silent feeling slightly convicted by what Duro was saying.
“I’m as expectant as you are Bola - never for a second doubt that, but what I’m sure of, is that with or without children, I love you and I know that whatever God has planned for us is good. I’m really asking you to just trust God for real, for once.” Duro walked towards his wife and hugged her tightly as he prayed a short prayer for her:
“Dear LORD, let Bola experience true peace. Let her experience the love you have for her and provide her with opportunities to trust and have faith in You. In Your Mighty Name, Amen.” He sealed the prayer with a heartfelt kiss on her forehead and wiped the tears that streamed down her face.
But little did Duro know that Bola’s tears weren’t tears of agreement or conviction, they were tears of frustration. Bola thought, “Why must I always be without? No mother, no father, now no child of my own, except a husband who gives motivational speeches while he boils yam? God, you’ve forgotten me for real. How much trust do I need to show you before you can trust me with a child?”
“Bola? Did you hear me?” Duro questioned.
“Huh?”
“I said go freshen up - brunch is almost ready.” Duro smiled at Bola who was still absentminded. “Oh yeah, we’re leaving at three o’clock by the way.”
“Where are we going?” Bola didn’t remember any plans they had arranged.
“Sweetie, it’s Peju and Jamil’s baby’s naming ceremony today.” Duro looked back and smiled giving his wife a goofy face which read “how could you forget.”
Bola’s eyes were barely dry from her frustration tears, “Oh yeah” she said as she gave Duro a broken smile and left the kitchen.
If she could find a way out from going, she would have but Bola knew she couldn't. Peju is family, Duro’s younger sister, and Bola’s living nightmare.
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GLOSSARY
Harm me ke? - Harm me how? OR How could he?
O/Oh - An expression added to a word/sentence for emphasis.
Stay na - Stay now
I take God beg you - I beg you in the Name of God
Hans Zimmer - Hollywood film score composer
I beg - I beg you