Skip to main content

THE OLD RULE OF THUMB

There was a time when the criterion for enrolling children into school was for the hand to go across their head to touch their ear. It was deemed practical and the proper judgement for establishing a child old enough to get an education.  Many of our parents experienced this because there was no documentation regarding age/birth certificates, so the logic was to ascertain a child's age by specific abilities. Take, for instance, Diana in 1985. The education standard for getting into school was from the age of 5. Diana's mother had painted beautiful pictures of a school's appearance and said that only sensible people were considered worthy of being a part of it. All Diana wanted to do was put on the new socks and shoes her mother had purchased. Diana dreamt of reciting the greeting the night before, 'Good morning, teacher; we are happy to see you; God bless you.' And so, Diana was taken to school that morning for enrolment. 'Fine girl, raise your right hand over y...
2 comments

FAITH



FAITH

There is one power so great - the wisdom of tomorrow. No one wishes ill on themselves but when we are in a fix, we tend to wish we had the power to tell what tomorrow would bring. Just like Mama Iliya.

The night before was so cold that she took her last available wrapper, covered up her son and lay by his side all night long to keep him warm enough to see a new day. Afterwards, she was going to meet with her pastor to pray out every sickness from his lanky body. He had been sick for two days; would not eat, could hardly breathe, see or taste anything. After selling Wankee the week before, he had complained of a headache and was told to lick red oil by his mother. The bottle of oil is empty today, staring at Mama Iliya as she rolls on the sandy room begging Iliya to wake up.

“No be wetin we talk be this o Illiya. You tell me say we go go market this morning together go buy meat to use cook food for our customers. You say you go use Wankee build me big house. You even say America go be our new home. Oya wake up or I go come with you. Iliya!!!

 

Her pastor has arrived, unable to soothe her. He keeps repeating that the Holy Spirit will comfort her during these hard times and quotes Ecclesiastes. He tells her how much Jesus loves her and will be there to make everything new. Mama Iliya does not budge. Her wailing summons neighbours. Her usually empty room at that time of the day is now a spectacle. “Mama Iliya how e take happen? Why? When? Chai this one no be good sign for this new year at all…Why you no carry am go hospital when e start?”

The pastor speaks: “It was the Lord’s doing. No hospital would have saved the boy’s life as they did not give it to him in the first place. It was all the Lord’s doing and we are not in any position to question God!”

 

There is a pierce in Mama Iliya’s brain as she grabs and yells at the pastor to shut up and get out of her room. “You tell me say this your God big well well to do and undo. You tell me say my business go blow if I pay tax every Sunday from my small Wankee money. When Iliya start to sick you say make I give am the red oil wen you bless for me last month. Because money plenty for my hand I no argue with you to carry am go clinic. I do as you talk; I get faith. Wetin I wan use the faith do now. My pikin don go, I don kill am because I listen to you, because I think say Church na hospital. I don kill my pikin. Abeg, comot for my room before we go kill oursef now for here!!

 

All eyes are on the pastor. He reverses towards the door; the mini crowd follows him. His pace increases, their fury follows suit. Will his faith save him? Mama Iliya does not care, she only wants her son back!

Don't Forget to be Honest!

Kindly click on the "Subscribe" icon to get the latest posts 💪



Comments

  1. anon28 March 2021 at 15:03

    The Church is confused for hospital when there's no money

    ReplyDelete

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

MAKEOVER

  When she realized her hair was gone, the barber had increased the volume of his radio and India Arie’s ‘I am not my hair’ filled the room. ‘If I can manage the situation like a professional, my construction contract with her father will hold tomorrow,’ I thought. I breathe in and out, a logic that never works for me, but I do it anyway. I rehearse my words, changing each sound to a softer version of the previous one - aligning my looks to the words so that my eyes become half closed and there is a faint smile on my face. I wait for the explosion. All the while, the barber is busy touching what is left on her head with his clipper. He says it is the final addition and calls it the moon look. He fumbles with the chair, turning Stella from left to right like a child’s play. The large mirror in front of us escalates the mishap and the fumes on my girlfriend’s face seem to be burning the white walls. It was meant to be a makeover since her 25 th birthday was the next day. Now it...
7 comments
Read more

WHEN IT RAINS IT POURS

In those days, when it rained we would stay by the window and watch how the trees danced to the beats of the wind, the singing of raindrops and thunder. The lighter the music, the closer our legs would get to the door post, quietly watching the eyes of our mother; and waiting for an approval. When she wiggled her legs, it was a negative signal. But when she praised the beautiful works of God in the rainy moment, it was a positive sign. Note, there was no going outside when it rained in the night. That was why Joseph composed the song: Rain visit us when the sun is not old Rain sing for us when the moon is not young So that mother will open the door for us to play with you So that papa will come home dry and happy. Rain visit us as we sing to you. Rain oh rain oh rain. That particular day, the rain was deaf to our singing, or calling and yelling. We became frustrated because the sun was kissing the lines of the sea, workers were returning home while livestock owners were gathering their...
8 comments
Read more

IF HAIRS COULD TALK

  “You know, I get nervous by the sight of unkempt hair” “And why’s that?” “Well, it makes me imagine the worst of the man or woman in question.” “But you can’t always have clean cut or well-made hair. It’s hard work and who has time for such beauty strife. Or why do you think Beyonce sang that beauty hurts?” “I’m not talking about beauty. Rather I mean responsibility. Bad hair must surely birth a bad day. Look, I hate seeing my wife without her hair done or at least covered. I blame it on Medusa. Should have never seen that movie, T he Clash of the Titans .” “Hahaha, that’s just cracking! Now you blame your sick theory on a movie? Buddy, your wife must be tolerating a whole lot of shit from you. Cut her some slack and leave her hair alone. If you continue shaving yours all the time, you’d be bald before you’re even 40, man.” I’ve been thinking. A thousand tongues there would be if our hairs could talk. Imagine, a million heads would have a zillion tongues and more! The...
16 comments
Read more