"Looking sharp" sounds like a better compliment than "You look like a pastor's wife" which I had to smile to on Sunday, with a thank you, because church girls are polite and I look like a classic one; at least on most days.
Proverbs 22:6 classically says to train a child in the way they should go and they shall not depart from it (I just googled this Bible verse, my brain is empty for church things). Well, to be honest there's the part of me that is scared of derailing morally or rather "backsliding straight into hell" but other than that, I don't think Jesus is proud of me. Although that's personal; should be personal.
There's been interesting days in this church girl thing which I feel like writing about. One particularly hasn't left my head. The one at Ibadan. Nothing prepared me for the "sanctuary" I was visiting. Gathering of faithfuls? Definitely faithful to the movement.
The fun part:
As a Christian, I'm not new to tongue speaking, but there's levels to this thing. I don't even know if I was supposed to be scared, but that language left me chills.
Okay, I should say that it was a very long day. There was oil (loads of it) and water to drown us in. There was a lot of noise or was it prayers? I prayed (kept my lips moving before I got bundled for being possesed), kept my eyelids shut and occasionally peered from between to watch everyone around me fall. I had to go with the flow, so I landed on the floor with a dramatic thud and tactfully avoided the "hoil" hitting me square because everyone it touched seemed to twirl and go crazy.
How else would I explain the full blown movie that took place before my eyes? This was a grown ass man sounding like a young female and acting like he got drowned in an oestrogen tank when Mama touched him. There was the dramatic switch in countenance of this young lady; I could swear some audio was booming through her, because getting possessed seemed like a reach since every single newcomer (except me for some reason) was getting a hit. This was a scene straight out of a movie and I wanted to cry myself back to the reality I was used to.
Was this playacting? Religious fetish? Hypnotism? Exorcism? I had no time to ask these, nor ponder for long because something else creeped over me- Fear.
Curiousity: Whose spirit would've manifest through me? My dead twin? Or my archenemy? I could bet good money that crazy girl would turn up if the "hoil" hit me right. Or maybe we'd go full blown African magic and have a freak aunty talk about dumping my placenta in the Lagos lagoon?
NB: Iya Apata still has her cult following, I heard; although some "faithfuls" are getting faithless and left to start their own cult.
Would I pay her a visit when next Ogun aye le mi jana jana? Hehe no.
Is this a figment of my imagination? Hehe, no but I wish it was.
Wow!
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