I’m scared and I’m hoping we would pull through. I do not want to lose her.
I’d be beating a yellow Craig David tune on my gong, hoping for the best as AfroSays:
I WANT TO BELONG
The thin slice of light slashed perfectly through my brain like a surgical knife. I didn’t know which was more blinding, the pain or the light.
My perception of the world was topsy-turvy. Everything was coming to me in a distorted angular fashion. Was I dreaming? Was I drunk again? Was it my brother’s cheap grass? God, Give me a memory!
It wasn’t drink. It wasn’t Subomi’s cheap grass. The last thing I remember is that we had been at church together.
Something sounded like footsteps and that something was making progress towards me. Was I meant to panic? I was trying to remember how to talk…
I swung back and forth in a myriad of beautiful lights. In the middle of the somewhat unreal pain I reasoned that I was hanging by my legs and I had been set in motion by a blow to the head.
I was coming to. I was swinging back from one end and then I saw the shining nose of a military boot making for my forehead.
I saw paradise. I felt pain. I hadn’t stopped screaming so I turned it up five notches because as I opened my eyes, I saw the light reflected off my punisher’s footwear.
“Who sent you?”
My lungs were still ferociously pumping out scream fuel and he promptly cut off the supply. The kick to my neck sobered me.
“Who do you work for?”
I was sincerely willing to cooperate but I wasn’t sure how to.
I feebly attempted to raise a hand. “I… I…”
“…. I …Daily Times … I … vendor”
“Really?” The boot was coming close.
“Then why are you investigating us?”
I started crying. Investigation? I didn’t know anything about that. I am not that smart; I had failed the traffic warden examinations and this man was asking me about an investigation? Investigation? What the hell ? How did I get here?
“Who… who are you?” I asked meekly, “Where is Subomi?” I remembered leaving him as I went for the first timers/new converts alter call for the hundredth time.
“Mister investigator, don’t pretend here, tell us all you know and we might let you die in peace” he replied calmly. “We have noticed your operations, visiting all our parishes, asking questions, snooping around.”
“Oga please! Please!!!”
“You want to talk?”
“I only wanted to eat, Oga, I am just a poor man”
This time the pain was vivid. Whatever drug they had slipped in my drink wasn’t protecting me anymore.
Sniff, sob “Oga, please”
Subomi had warned me. He didn’t feel these ‘Church of Sodom Saints’ people were real Christians, they gave new converts too much quality food and served vodka mixtures during communion. Hell! I didn’t even know what Vodka was till I started attending their churches. He had warned me not to go out to the altar for ‘Super Salvation’ this time. He had noticed all the funny movements that my hungry stomach refused to let me see.
I had been stupid, making hunger rounds every Sunday, frequenting their various branches all over the city, always getting ‘Superbly saved’ and eating their fancy food. I had given up touring conventional churches because I was tired of eating the biscuits and sachet water that the miserly lot served first timers. C.S.S. had assured this poor man of at least one good meal every week.
“Oga I swear! Oga! I only came here for the food but now I want to belong, Oga!”
“I want to belong!”