The business of heaven

Photo: Sugar Pendragon

Everyone knew that Sundays were meant for church but in Reeds Town, this was no rule.

Sade walked down the mist-veiled streets of Reeds Town one morning. It was already past the second hour since the sun should have risen but the morning chose to remain dull-faced.  As she jumped a puddle here and avoided a heap of garbage bags filled with unknowns there, she thought of her bed—warm and soft and covered in her favourite colour combo, tangerine orange and royal blue. It could have been such a tryst, with cosy pyjamas warming her and a pillow in her arms, hugged and pressed to her bosom for extra comfort, legs curled and a refreshing snooze. Her vision ended when a black polythene bag caught her brogues. She untangled herself from it and watched as it floated on, perhaps to meet some other destiny.

An hour earlier, Sade had woken up, as usual, to catch the bus to work. She had no joy in waking because the night before was part of a magical weekend she wished would never end. But all things must come to an end, even days where one was treated like a princess and handed gifts of gold.  She took a shower, sculpted her eyebrows and finished her make-up in record time. Feeling satisfied and smart, she checked to confirm that her watch was still on her wrist. It shone so much that it made her smile.

Bless him, she thought. I would gladly live through dull mornings and workdays to see him at the end of it all.

The bus had passed the half-way mark between her home and work when she yelled for the driver to stop and drop her off. She had just realised her folly; it was her day off. She resolved to walk home instead of paying another bus fare back.  The streets were deserted making the patchy asphalt and raggedy power lines all the more noticeable. Barely painted bungalows and storeys stood side by side on both sides of the streets, their drab looks completing the fog and dust that hung in the air for what she imagined to be miles. The mist soon began to lift and she could make out the words on billboards and street signs that appeared every few paces.   She occupied herself by reading each one she passed.

Human Rights Commission – Know your right.

Nigerian Police Force – Bail is free

Ablaze Ministries – Jesus is the torch.

Clockwork Newspaper distribution office.

Virgin Assemblies Love church welcomes you.

The Redeemer Campaigners International.

Principal Bank

Jesus on wheels.

Sade did not need a conscious count to know that the churches were ahead in publicity.

Moving on, she saw a three-storey building; all three floors had church banners advertising different churches. Each floor also had outside-facing megaphones and speakers mounted. She imagined how festive the place would be on Sundays with each of the three churches, all in the same building, hoping to outdo the other during preaching and praise sessions. She felt a tinge of pity for the neighbouring residential houses and businesses. But then again, she imagined they wanted to ensure the spread of the gospel, so the ruckus they would produce would be fuelled by good intentions.

“She saw more women gesticulating—some had their fists raised; some were clapping and constantly nodding; some shook physically all over while jumping in and out of sight; some had children strapped to their backs, letting others run around them. Their voices were raised in a mishmash of barely audible words.”

She wondered why the church halls caught her attention that morning. It was not the first time she had seen them. She had not reached the end of a lane when she came across yet another church hall this time full of worshippers. It was an old bungalow possibly built in the colonial era. People flocked in and out of its gaping entrance; women and a few children hung by the balcony that demarcated the veranda of the building from the unpaved driveway.   

Sade could see the inside of the church through its wide-open doors that spread invitingly to newcomers. She saw more women gesticulating—some had their fists raised; some were clapping and constantly nodding; some shook physically all over while jumping in and out of sight; some had children strapped to their backs, letting others run around them. Their voices were raised in a mishmash of barely audible words.  Sade could only catch the more recurrent phrases such as Holy Ghost fire, back to sender and destroy.

It was just another regular prayer meeting on a Monday morning. Sade admired the women's dedication; surely on Monday mornings they had businesses to attend to, instead they chose to spend the time in church. To start the week in God was surely a wonderful thing as the preacher, the only adult male, amongst them loudly proclaimed over the speaker. Sade trudged on, her mind occupied with thoughts. Perhaps she could try to make more time for God; Sunday-Sunday church-going was surely not enough.

For Sade, a church was a place of gathering—a place for singing songs about strong men and the father of nations. As a child, she would play with friends, whom she only saw on Sundays,  reciting memory verses together and looking at picture books with handsome white men in flowing robes and skirt dresses, sandals and colourful headbands. Those days, church did not seem like a chore. She went because her aunt took her along. It was fun and light.  The serenity of the beloved place remained until she graduated children’s church. She found that there was no more lightness or fun about doctrines and dogmas that puzzled her growing mind after she joined the adult church. The imminence of sin and, by extension becoming a potential candidate for hell, caused problems for her teenage mind. Even in those days she bore it and was still happy to be among them, until one fateful day.

***

The youth retreat started with sweet songs. The young presiding choir moved the congregation with praise and worship songs. It was exhilarating and comforting for Sade to have this time where she felt right enough to approach God. The guest speakers narrated stories of Bible characters who were zealous for God from a young age. The soft fall of the words seemed to lull as Sade noticed a few heads beside her nodding gently.  

Finally, the talks ended and more songs followed. The young women in the congregation were beckoned to the altar. As Sade knelt there, she noticed the middle-aged head usher pass round a piece of paper and pen to each kneeling girl. The songs had died down and the hall became silent except for the low voices of the girls kneeling in front. Sade saw Ngozi turn to her friend Rebecca, the beads in her braids clinking as she gestured, shaking her head side to side in puzzlement. They both discussed in whispers peering at the paper in their hands. Kneeling behind them, as one of the last in the group, the paper was finally handed to Sade. It read: OATH OF VIRGINITY.

The voice of the pastor’s wife awakened Sade from the sudden loud thumping in her heart.

“Now our young girls will read after me to promise their faithfulness to Jesus till marriage.”

Sade mouthed the words like the rest in calmness. She noticed her lips tremble as the words escaped. She was uncertain about making an oath to keep something she wasn’t even sure she had.  Was she still a virgin? Did Kola’s smooch and wandering fingers in secret places the other night mean she was no longer one? Was she already lying by taking this oath?

She said the words all the same. Her free arm went across her stomach in a half hug and she slouched further in the kneeling position. After the words were read, and the signed papers passed down, the leading oath enforcer waved the papers in her hand as she chanted Hallelujah. The girls returned in droves to their seats.

The boys and young men in the congregation were the next group herded to the front.  Sade braced herself to see them read the dreaded words and sign their names on the dotted lines. But no. Instead, they were sent to their seats after chants of blessings. No papers were handed to them, no oaths were sworn.

After that day, Sade always felt alert in church like a deer dreading an ambush. The lethargy she developed as part of the congregation only increased; she was aware of judging eyes and reproachful lips. She wished for some encouragement, lightness, and laughter as could be found when people gathered but there was none. How could there be when everyone was busy with guarding against sin? After that day, she only wanted to stay in on Sundays. She wanted to stay in all morning under the bed covers and daydream, but she rose and followed her aunt anyway.  Besides, Sade thought, only heathens would skip church on Sunday.

***

Her thoughts seemed to fuel her feet and she returned to the present as she neared the duplex that housed her flat. She looked at her sparkling watch again, smiling. It was 11 AM; she knew Didi was not home yet. It would be a boring morning. But, as she climbed up the stairs to her flat, she was surprised to find her door ajar.

One floor below, Mrs Samson, who was just about was to cross the threshold of her flat saw Sade’s figure as she climbed up the stairs and wondered why she was home early instead of being at work. Even more important to Mrs Samson was why Sade, and her flatmate, had failed to turn up at the previous night’s vigil. Her position as the head usher in Christ Riches Ministries Worldwide was under threat at this rate. She had a quota to fill.

It still rent her heart to remember Papa’s dissatisfied face when he saw empty seats in the congregation he was to preach to. Mrs Samson had felt it was better to receive public disgrace and shame than to be the cause of Papa’s dissatisfaction. She decided she had to try harder even if it meant dragging these rebellious tenants with her next time.

The creaking iron gate attached to the front door jolted Mrs Samson back to the present. She turned to secure the gate with a padlock when she felt something scuttle quickly past her ankle. With a loud jump and yell, she turned just in time to see the dusty tail of a full-grown agama lizard disappearing into a nearby crevice. She felt tingles rise from her feet to the tips of her wig. A lizard? In her flat?

Mrs Samson hated all creeping creatures especially reptiles. It seemed to her like they were the closest creatures to the spawn of the devil one could find on earth.

She quickly retraced her steps, retreating into her flat. The appearance of the lizard’s bright red head, ashy and scaly body, with a long tail, was all the sign she needed. She knew that something was coming. She swung into action. Kneeling at the foot of her bed, she raised her voice and prayed against any reptiles physical or spiritual, scheming to block her path.

On the floor above, Sade was still panicky at the open door to her flat as she stepped in, cautiously. She was relieved her when she saw her flatmate sprawled on the bed with a hand fan going back and forth over her face.

“Hey, Didi what’s up. You scared me, why are you still at home, why did you leave the door so wide open?

“Please I can’t today, I am taking the day off. I can’t kill myself scrambling to find space in that lecture hall. It’s better I face the heat here than the heat of a thousand bodies. I go there every day but I’m still not used to that overcrowded lecture hall. Seriously I need a break. You? How come you are here?”

“Never mind dear, today was my day off but I forgot and rushed off early to work as usual. But you shouldn’t have left the door open like that. You scared me. I thought we had been robbed”

Didi shook her head and smiled. Sade had always been a paranoid cat. She was about to say something but was stopped in her tracks by a voice in the background, slowly rising in intensity. She stopped to listen as the voice rose with short bursts of songs and fiery proclamations.

“Mrs Samson is not out yet? Is she the one I can hear downstairs?” Didi asked.

“Yes, her shop was not open when I passed it a short while ago; I wanted to buy coke.”

The short pause after their exchange allowed the intensified proclamations to filter into their midst. Didi’s question needed no further confirmation. Even a deaf man could hear Mrs Samson’s torrential supplications in the flat below, the earth-shaking tone of her voice reverberating around the walls

“Wow, there she goes again.  This time her enemies do not have names. Ever since that time she caught her husband, it's been these loud prayers. Every young lady is a suspect. Won't she allow us respite from all this noise-making? I wanted to enjoy this morning in peace. I really have a mind of going downstairs to tell her off.”

“Yes, good idea Didi. Go downstairs and tell our landlady to keep quiet. You don't like the comfort of this flat, I guess. You know how long it took us to find this one. Please allow the woman her prayers.”

“Why should I?” Didi pouted as she asked

Laughing, Sade continued, “Not everyone is like you. Your own problem with churchgoing is really becoming weird. I know you didn't go to church yesterday even the Sunday before that. I really don't understand your problem with church.”

Didi laughed—a laughter of indignation. She sat up on the double bed and took a deep sigh as she quickly processed her retort.

“How did you know I didn't go to church? You weren't here all weekend as you abandoned me for the-love-of-your-life, so your friends don’t matter. Don't go judging me, Miss. Besides I am not all for this church thing. You know how my parents dragged me from one church to the other looking for prosperity and healing and this and that. Ever since I’ve been living on my own, I’ve been taking a break. Can I please have that?  I wonder how a woman like Mrs Landlady can even talk about God. You know how she is.  Please Sade spare me this your preaching.”

“Okay, I admit it. Mrs Samson is not exactly the epitome of Love-your-neighbour-as-you-love-yourself. Remember that day she threw her heeled sandals at Barber John for mistakenly underpaying her for her wares. I was very surprised that she was an expert at throwing insults as well. Mr John stood there like a pole caught in a storm, battered here and there. He kept apologising, offering the rest of the money and telling her it wasn't on purpose. But she just kept going at him for wanting to cheat her. I felt so sorry for the poor man.”

“You see! Or that day she beat up that girl she caught with her husband. The girl was wrong, but she went too far, I found out the girl was just 18 years old, not older than her first daughter. Even filming the girl after she was done with her and posting on her Facebook wall. I wonder why she didn't beat her husband though. You know him, such an earnest skirt chaser.”

“Yes, he certainly needs help. I can sort of understand why Mrs Samson is always so aggressive even towards us, her tenants. I wish she would solve her problems from the source.”

“Forget that problem thing. She has always been like that, even before she found out her husband was a serial cheater. She is a fighter all-round. You can hear her now binding and casting, scattering the unseen missiles of the unseen enemy.”

“I just recalled. She invited us to that Holy Ghost Hotel programme-thing her church was running. I’m not so sure. But let's just go, okay?”

“Yeah, you're right I wouldn't want to deal with her eyes stabbing me every time for not going to see her dear Papa, the great man of God. Or worse, she might just increase our rent to spite us for non-Christian behaviour as she calls it. Yeah, we should go even if we don’t stay for the whole thing.  Sade, please play some music from your phone; I don’t think I want to hear those prayers that should be kept to herself and God. But wait, what is that shiny thing on your wrist, it can’t be gold.”

Sade beamed and showed off her wrist adorned with her precious watch, “it’s gold, my dear. David gave it to me when I saw him; I haven’t taken it off since then. He said I should wear it to show my acceptance as his wife-to-be”

Didi let out a squeal and suddenly sat up from her lying position. “Wow! Sade, I’m so happy for you.”

***

The night of Holy Ghost Hotel was quite a quaint one. The worshippers strolled into the conference hall of Saviours Hotel. The three-storey building was a massive shiny edifice with glass windows and colourful cloth decorations hanging at the entrance. Sade had heard that the Saviours Hotel was one of a kind. It was the only hotel in the town built solely for God’s work. Mrs Samson had told her that their Papa took a rest in the largest suite on the topmost floor of the hotel. It was called the Upper Room.

The Holy Ghost Hotel Programme was a three-day programme with night and day sessions. Worshippers from nearby and far areas flocked to Reeds-town for the programme. Those who required special consultations with the Man-of-God had to book rooms in the hotel at an unnamed considerable token. Booking the rooms was the only way to gain entrance to the Upper Room for the consultation sessions held during the day. The night session was the time of the programme. Sade garnered all this information from the programme flier that Mrs Samson gave her.

Photo: Diogo Nunes

Sade and Didi strolled into the cavernous conference hall overflowing with people. It was densely packed and lively. All entrances were blocked with people streaming in and out in files, diverting, straying and bumping into each other like a trail of ants going in and out of their anthill. The girls had difficulty finding seats and finally they squeezed in next to a buxom lady, all pump and colourful in customised clothing covered from top to bottom with Papa’s face.

As they sat, the lighting was dimmed and the hall darkened as though in preparation for a grand entrance. Sade and Didi cosied up in the soothing ambience. They disappeared as two in a crowd of hundreds. 

The man of God made his appearance amidst a rumble of applause and the lights shot back up. The band acknowledged his presence with the pomp and flair of the drums and trumpet.  He filled the podium like a collared lizard all imposing but still with grace. Indeed, he was a man to be admired, surprisingly young for someone addressed as Papa. Very dapper, a dandy in a very well-made suit. Didi saw Mrs Samson adjacent the stage that her dear Papa had just mounted. She looked sharp in her green-black usher attire which was complemented by a neck scarf of the same material bearing Papa’s face. Didi could bet her life savings that Mrs Samson had never beamed at anyone as she beamed at the Man of God, the Papa she never tired of speaking about.

The man of God raised his hand and the music that ushered him in stopped abruptly. He began his message with assertions and declarations about prospering in the midst of enemies. The theme of the message was I will set a table in the presence of your enemies. He promised the movement of God against all forms of enemies, human or spiritual. Murmurs of approval could be heard from the congregation.

He preached with an assertive voice which included random smatterings of blessings. It served to keep the congregation awake as they matched his declarations with bursting shouts of amen. This continued throughout the sermon such that, by the end, Sade did not remember the message of the teaching. She was not sure whether it was because of the shouts from the audience but she was content to know that God was sure to give his blessings.  She looked towards Didi who was clicking away at her phone oblivious to the activities around her.

After the animated sermon, the offerings segment of the service was ushered in by boisterous and energetic singing. The music riled up the worshippers and they swayed and danced to leave their offerings before God.  The music came to an abrupt stop when the offering was over, and the pastor took the stand again.

“It is time for seed sowing. The house of God needs labour and backing. If the people cannot give to God, he is capable of raising stones to do the work. Nothing is too big or small for God. Those that want to show God their faithfulness, fill up the second envelope you were given and come up to this podium and kneel so I can pray for you”.

The congregation reached into their pockets once more. Sade had an envelope and began to get up. Didi raised her head from her phone and eyed her mouthing  “where are you going?”

Sade whispered back, “Can’t you see? I’m going to the altar, shift, let me pass”.

Didi looked on as her friend joined the hurdled bodies kneeling around the podium. Then she went back to poking her phone.

***

Sade was beaming as she left the hall.

“What did you think Didi, the service wasn’t too bad after all.”

“Hmm. . . we said we wouldn’t stay for long but now you are making us walk back when it is so dark now. You were even forming big woman, sowing seed with big envelope. I didn’t know you had that kind of money; you could have also sown a seed in my life.”

Sade laughed at her friend’s remarks, “Don’t be so grumpy, we only stayed 10 minutes extra for the seed sowing and you are shouting. Besides, my dear, givers never lack. God has been blessing me so I thought I could give back, so he can bless me more. Is that a bad thing?”

Didi only rolled her eyes in retort.

“Besides what’s even the time now?” She asked.

Sade moved to check the time. She raised her left arm towards her eyes, but her watch was not there.

“Didi, my watch. I . . .  think . . .  I had it just now.”

“Yeah you did, I saw it on you as you passed me to go sow your seed.”

“Wait. . . did I really give it away at seed sowing?”

“What kind of question is that, Sade? Why are you even asking me? Wait. Don’t tell me . . . Your million-dollar gold watch, the one David gave you as an engagement gift? Wow, Shads! You are really bursting for Christ.”

“No, Didi stop joking about this. The watch is not on my wrist. I remember I had it till the seed sowing.”

Didi put her hand to her mouth. Sade continued.

“Now I remember. I went up to the podium like others to drop in my envelope.”

“Yes, you did.”

“I think after I dropped the money, then, the pastor. . .  the pastor, he came up to me, he put his hand on my head to bless me and for some reason, I took off my watch and dropped it in as well. It felt like a normal thing then. But now, Didi. . . I don’t know. . . why can’t I remember clearly? Didi, what happened up there?”

Didi rubbed her face with her hands. There was a pause between them. Didi felt her friend’s panic rise. She was unsure of how to respond. But Sade continued instead.

“I’m scared, Didi. What will I tell David? I gave it away for seed sowing?”

Tears quickly lined Sade’s eyes. She ran her fingers through her hair.

“Sade calm down. Let’s just say you were spirit-led then. Knowing him I know he wouldn’t understand you gave away your watch just when you got it and with all that money he spent. We will tell him someone stole it from the flat. Okay? Don’t worry”.

“Didi I’m confused, so confused. I can give to God, yes. Where the spirit leads, I will follow, yes. But I have to say . . . I should not feel so weird about this. Why am I so confused?”

 They noticed an approaching figure and looked up to see Mrs Samson walking up to them.

“Did you enjoy the service, girls? My Papa is a powerful minister, isn’t he?” Mrs Samson said excitedly. It was unusual to see her in this state of excitement.

“Yes, Ma. Yes, he is indeed very powerful.” Only Didi answered.

Mrs Samson waved them off and scurried back into the still bustling hall.

Didi held her friend close to her, whispered and shook her as if to shake off the listless look in her eyes.

“Don’t worry, Sade. Come, let’s go home. He can buy you another watch, right? Don’t worry. He will forgive you. David loves you, right?”.

Sade did not hear her. She just kept walking, slowly.

About the Author

Faith Tissa was born in Port Harcourt, Nigeria. She is a media studies researcher at some university. She writes short fiction and nonfiction pieces when she is not busy cooking, bingeing on telenovelas or worrying about writing. She is passionate about Africa and all things that concern it. Her other published work can be found in the Farafina short story anthology, A Handful of Dust.