Face Me I Face you

Chapter three.

It was Sunday, Jara's favourite day of the week and your least. You had every reason to dislike Sundays in Nigeria it was a mandatory go to church day if you claim to be a Christian. A person who suddenly stops going to churches becomes the devil's incarnate, such person already has two little horns growing on the side of your head.

Mama was the first person that put the fear of churches in you, after that 'deliverance gone wrong' incident when you hit your head on a wooden platform earning you a well endowed Koko during a deliverance session, the type that looked like a tennis ball was implanted in your head.

You expected some sympathy from the self-acclaimed man of God, but he yelled to the eager congregation you trembled in pain struggling to keep your tears in.

"You see my children, this boy here was possessed by a very dangerous demon. A demon that ruins your capability to think. Praise the Lord."

"Hallelujah!" the church echoed, Mama's voice standing out of many, her eyes closed in prayer forbidding all the demons the pastor said lived in you.

You cursed silently under your breath as Pastor placed his hand on your Koko spot, he shivered under the touch mumbling incorrigible word.

"Hmm...Hmmm!" He hummed

"You are healed, receive it! Aha. Ha-haay, I said receive your healing." He yelled once more, some stray spittle landing on your face

"Amen!"Mama's head danced like an aggressive Agama Lizard, nodding to every prayer the sweats on her forehead dripping on the floor.

After the deliverance session, Mama took her whole day make from her tiny stall in the town market and dumped it into the filled offering box threatening to spill out the ten-ten Naira notes sitting at the top, when you reached home she used the anointing oil she bought from the church and massaged your Koko till it went down.

That experience remained stuck in your memory, as the beginning of your fear for churches.
Unlike men, you believed there was a tie holding women and church together.
Jara would never dress this beautiful for you, she only dressed like this on Sundays. Her scarce Dubai perfume, the one you always ask for, which according to her, 'don finish' overpowering the bland smell of natural air.
Today she wore her green Ankara aso oke, her makeup done beautifully with her lips pouting more than usual.

You managed yourself in your normal pastor trouser flappy and big all through a belt holding the waist tight topped with a plain blue shirt, you struggled to tie the compulsory church men band bow around your neck.

Jara moved to this side, and later to that side checking how she looked in her full-length mirror hanging from the crooked nail.
"Na for dah tie you dey since morning. Hurry up make person find chair siddon for church, you know say me I be church worker, punctuality is my keyword."

You ignored her, "You know say, Daddy, want make we couples wey dey find the fruit of the labor buy handkerchief for the deliverance service today." Jara reminded you of last Sunday service.

After her fight with Iya Chidi, she had a miscarriage the next day.

It has been a month, since the incident but heavens know how much 'Iya Chidi suck my pikin commot' you have heard.
Or, 'Iya Chidi na winch, after she don she carry that evil hand touch my cloth na so miscarriage visit me. Me wey my Belle strong, e fi carry any baby for nine months until I enter dis winch compound."

She failed to remember she took the painkiller you warned her against, which she replied to as 'Taa! e no fi do me anything.'.

"E tok say, no winch of any power marine power, air oo, anyone at all no fi tie your Belle again.'

You prayed the service won't take too long, so that Daddy(pastor) would deliver you and your wife quickly from Iya Chidi's curse.
The curse was certainly not the birth control pills Jara hates to take that leaves you have no other option than to put in in her meals.