The Marriage Counsellor

My hands were sweaty in anticipation as I sat behind the mahogany desk that vested me with authority. It didn’t happen always, I didn’t get nervous over counseling sections often. I had been a marriage counselor in the church for seven years. The way it went in my church; you applied for the position, with reasons why you wanted to serve in that department of the church.
I still remembered the day I sent in my application. One moment I was cuddled up in bed with my favourite blanket and favorite Gary Chapman book, feeling floozy and lovey, the next I was considering how beautiful it would be to make a side career from being a marriage counselor. A Christian marriage counselor. I sent in an application on that whim however I would later refer to it as the spirit of God in me, conveniently forgetting a lot of things that had happened in my life that led to that flashlight moment.
My application went through and my interview was smooth; I was exactly the kind of person they needed on the team; dynamic, not-too-old, knowledgeable, zealous and passionate about relationships and God.
“I think the church has gotten to an extent where we are slack about the relationships we keep. There’s no seeing eye, no one fears God anymore to think about what they do in their relationships. God is invisible to them, we are the god they see. We are the ones to censor whatever goes on when they leave the church premises and go back to their lives out there. I am willing to give my all to make sure that there is no unequal yoking going on in church and there are no games being played behind our backs.” That was the speech that won over the Pastors who interviewed me. A speech that whenever I recalled, I always smiled, giving myself a mental high-five.
I liked to think that it was that same memorable speech that got me steadily climbing the ladder till I was made second-in-command on the Marriage Committee. Deputy Head Counselor, a title I wore with…pride. The good kind of pride, as expected. I was a Christian and pride was not a part of the fruit of the spirit.
I shuffled the papers before me, trying to look important, trying to not show how nervous I was to start this session.
“Sister Jumoke, are you okay?” it was Mrs Nike speaking. She had wide teeth I thought looked like a rabbit’s. Her makeup was always bland, a dash of talcum powder, no doubt and then lip gloss as light as vaseline applied on her thick lips. And yet she was married. It beat me how God worked. I knew I wasn’t exactly Miss World, but then again I wasn’t Miss Ugly, I didn’t have rabbit teeth and didn’t use makeup like a morgue attendant. So, what was wrong with me? I often wondered when I looked at her.
“I’m fine,” I replied, trying to pretend I appreciated her kindness. Another reason I wasn’t really comfortable with her was because she had been passed over for The Deputy Head position and it had been handed to me.
It was no secret that the position was the most envied position after the Head Counselor; the Deputy Head was powerful enough to determine if a wedding would hold in church or not. Sometimes desperate couples bombarded the Head Counselor and Deputy Counselor with ‘gifts’ while hinting on what they actually wanted from them.
Once, in my short tenure as Deputy, a sister who’d been undergoing counseling with us had approached me and offered to ‘take me shopping’ and ‘spoil’ me as ‘directed by the Holy Spirit’. The reason for this she later confessed to me was that she had discovered she was pregnant and needed my help to cover it up for her wedding to go on.
“So you’re telling me the Holy Spirit directed you to commit fornication then bribe me to help you cover up the consequences?” I asked.
“No ma…erm…please…”
“Don’t ‘ma’ me!” I yelled more annoyed at being called ma than anything. Did the position come with such salty respect or did I look that old? “It is people like you that are desecrating the house of God, tarnishing the image of Christianity.”
“No, please! I beg you…in the name of God, just help me. if we don’t get married soon, it will…the pregnancy would start showing and…my father will…please ma, just help me for God’s sake.” she was almost kneeling, her lips quivering.
“Was I there when you were doing the deed?” I asked, my voice tinged with contempt. “You dare bribe a servant of God and blame it on the Holy Spirit? Jesus Christ!”
“No…it was the…devil. Yes, the work of the devil.”
I didn’t tell her I envied her. That the real reason for my self-righteousness was because she had what I didn’t. A man to love her, to want her, to touch her. She had a baby growing inside her!
I was thirty-six, never been touched by a man, never experienced an orgasm in my lifetime. The closest I’d come to pleasure were those moments in my bathtub at home, imagining Bro Terence with my fingers groping.
Bro. Terence who was due to arrive any moment for his marriage classes to begin.
Bro. Terence, tall and good-looking whom I had wanted from the first time I heard him sing, yet he never noticed me. Whenever our paths crossed, he greeted me with a slight head bow and a ‘ma’ attached.
The first day he called me ‘ma’, I had gone home and cried myself to sleep. Was I that old, that unappealing? I wondered. Did he now see me as his mother instead of as a woman?
I wasn’t much older than him for Chrissakes! And looking at his file before me now, I saw he was even a year older than I was. How. Dare. He. Ma. Me!
“Ahem.” the sound snapped me out of my semi-trance.
I looked up. The couple was just entering.
My eyes drank in Bro. Terence, dressed in a white U.S.A T-shirt and jeans with blue sneakers, giving him a casual but ‘hot’ look. His haircut was the same; adult punk. He had well-shaped fingers that I often imagined in my lonely nights, dancing across my thighs, squeezing my nipples.
Fingers I wanted to kiss.
Sighing, I shifted my gaze to the lady. Sister Angela was her name in the file but when I saw her, something in me snapped.
****
More than a decade ago, I had been in love with a wonderful man. Or so I thought.
Tunji was my first and so far, only love. I was a new convert, a babe in the faith when he’d approached me. He was the Brothers Coordinator of the fellowship, the crush of every sister. Tall, handsome, Holy Ghost filled and tongue-tongueing.
I was no exception. I fell hard when he came to me.
“I see you in my future,” he’d said as we sat in the school’s Love Garden one evening.
My heart raced. I knew God had promised me a husband if I followed Him diligently but I didn’t know it would happen so fast…I was barely six months in the faith.
“You’ re special Jummy,” he continued, his fingers entwining mine. “You and I together, can fulfill purpose.”
The word ‘purpose ‘ rang in my head. We’d been talking a lot about that in church recently, how we had to find the purpose we were on earth. We were studying Rick Warren’s The Purpose -Driven Life at the time.
“What do you think?” he asked, turning his dreamy eyes on me.
“I…I’ll think about it.” I replied.
“Think, but not too much. Praying is more important.”
I blushed then. Could life get any better?
I did neither praying nor thinking, instead I fantasized. Whenever we were in church, I would stare at the back of his head thinking :
“He chose me! Out of all these sisters, he came to me!”

We started dating a month later and it wasn’t difficult to imagine him in my future. A future we spent every second planning for, we would sit on his bed in his room, leaning against each other, talking, naming kids we didn’t have, discussing in-laws we hadn’t met.
The crown of it all was he never made a move towards sex. When we first began, he had held my hands, looked me in the eye and said;
“I will not touch you inappropriately Jummy. I respect you and would want to see where God takes us with this relationship.”
I knew how many sisters in the fellowship lamented about their boyfriends and how they demanded for sex, I remembered the many nights I thanked God for the man I had.
We were three years into our relationship when Toke joined the fellowship. Toke, who looked good in mini skirts or Mary-Amakas. She didn’t have to wear mini skirts to be every brother’s fantasy, all she had to do was just be her. And then she had the charisma of Margaret Thatcher. She was outspoken, the kind who could stand up in church and give a word of prophecy without balking.
I didn’t think much of her at first, until she was made the sister’s coordinator few months after she joined. Tunji had just graduated then but was called back as an alumni to give a three day seminar to incoming excos.
Perhaps I should have seen it coming, but I did not. Soon, Tunji was spending less time with me and more time elsewhere.
It wasn’t long before he told me it wasn’t working between us.
“What do you mean it’s not working?” I asked, almost hysterical. I had given him my all, for the future he promised.
“I mean, I think God is leading me elsewhere. I don’t want to hurt you, Jummy,” he had the good grace to look contrite.
“The same God who led you to me, made a mistake before? Or did you just see someone with wider hips and decide you’d fulfill purpose better with her?” Even then, I knew somehow that there was someone else.
I didn’t know it was Toke until three months after we broke up. I was still depressed, dressing like a homeless person. I saw them leaving the cinema together, laughing and holding each other.
I turned and walked away, not wanting to be seen.

Toke’s face was forever etched in my memory.
And now I’m looking in a face; Angela’s face, and I see it’s none other than Toke. Toke, the one who’d taken Tunji from me, had done same to Terrence.
How had Terrence found her? Of all the women in our church, why had he gone outside and picked this relationship wrecker?
I stared at her, checking to see if she recognized me. I didn’t expect her to anyway, I was faceless to her. She had never bothered to know whose man she was stealing when she did.
Looking at her now, she hadn’t changed much. Yes, she was older, but she still had that slutty-sisterly quality about her. I could see why men would be attracted to her.
I zoned out as I listened to the remaining counselors ask them questions. I looked at Bro Terrence and saw Tunji. Tunji, who I gave three years of my life to and suddenly couldn’t imagine being with anyone else. Tunji who had made me become obsessed with relationships and what went wrong with them. Tunji who made me take up this position as marriage counselor, because the only way I could see myself being a part of any marriage was by doing what I did. Being an outsider looking in. Years had gone by, I was thirty-six; an old maid and the best I had done was masturbate myself to sleep.
And then it occurred to me at that moment; who was I keeping myself for? It had stopped being about God a long time ago, everything about my life was no longer about God. It was fake, God was the facade I used to hide my flaws.
The reason I had wanted to become a counselor was not because of God, the reason I obstructed weddings and refused to budge when bribed was not because I was noble; it was because I was powerful. I loved the power, I loved knowing that I had the fate of a couple in my hands. Like now.
It was time to crush Toke and Terence.
I looked up, smiling in my heart;
“Are you a virgin?” I asked, directing the question at Toke, who sat cross-legged in her knee-length skirt.
She blinked, then glanced at Terrence.
I could feel the eyes of my colleagues on me. This was not part of the script.
“Please answer the question, sister.” I prodded.
“I…I don’t see how that’s relevant,” she said, mild irritation showing in her voice.
“Do you want to marry this man or not?” I asked, unfazed.
“Yes.”
“Then answer.”
“No, I’m not,” she mumbled.
“Have you ever been pregnant?”
This time there was an audible sound from my colleagues. Toke was looking at me, frozen.
“Why are you asking her that?” Mrs Adejumo passed a note to me.
“As the spirit leads.” I replied.
Infact, it was no spirit. When Tunji had jilted me for Toke years ago, I had made it a mission to keep tabs on their lives, especially Toke.
I knew she had gotten pregnant at some point in their relationship; that she had gotten rid of the baby was a tidbit that I had happened upon by chance. The doctor who had performed the abortion was a friend of my sister’s.
“Angie, please answer,” I saw Terence nudge her.
“You want to marry this man, don’t you? ” I asked again. “The key to a happy marriage is communication. It is getting rid of all secrets before you walk down the aisle.”
There was a pleading look in her eyes as she looked at me. Her lips quivered as she said;
“Yes, I have.”
From the look on Terence’s face, I knew he had no idea. Strike one.
“What happened to the baby?” I continued.
Terrence was staring at her, like he was seeing her for the first time.
“I…I don’t have to answer that. It’s…private,” she stuttered.
By now, everyone was curious, waiting in hushed silence.
“Let me help you answer it then. You had an abortion, yes? During which your womb was damaged. Sister Toke, you can’t have children, can you?” I didn’t blink as I let the words leave my mouth.
There was a gasp from somewhere in the room.
Terrence stood abruptly, his face a mirror of the pain I felt years ago. Strike two.
“Is that true?” he bellowed, turning to her.
“Terry, please. Just…just hear me out…please…” she stood too, a hand on his arm. Tears streaming down her face.
“And you didn’t tell me? You didn’t tell me! God! I can’t handle this right now!” With that Terence stormed out of the room.
Toke glanced at me once, pain and anger written all over her face.
“You think I don’t remember you? You exposed yourself the moment you called me Toke. No wonder Tunji left you! No wonder you’re still alone after all these years! Your heart is wicked!” with that she rushed out after Terence.
Her words sank into me like water into a sponge.
Strike three and…out.

Mimi. A.

The Club Of God-fearing Men- 13

Silence reigned for a few seconds after he dropped by the bombshell. He waited, tense, sneaking a look at Lola’s face.
Suddenly the tension broke as she burst into laughter.
Genesis let a smile loose as he watched her throw her head back, tears peeking out of her eyelids.
‘You’re kidding right?’ she asked in-between bouts of uncontrolled laughter.
‘Er…what do you think?’ he was trying to read this woman. She didn’t seem like the average woman who got thrown off-balance by sweet talk.
‘I think you’re crazy or stupid. Or delusional.’ She cocked an eyebrow at him, ‘you’ve known me what – all of two weeks, yeah? And you’re already seeing vision? When I’m not mammy water or Miss World?’
He smiled then. He had to admit, her sense of humour was infectious.
‘So you don’t think you’re beautiful, is that it?’ he asked, still playing it cool.
‘On the contrary, I think I’m gorgeous. But I also don’t think anyone can possibly have visions about a woman he barely knows. Come on, all we’ve talked about is bible and church. So what about me is so adorable, apart from my nice ass?’ she wiggled her forefinger at him.
‘You. That. That amazing sense of humour. I admit you’ve got a nice ass…I mean, who won’t notice? He winked at her. ‘But you’ve got something more…you’re smart, you love God. You are hot. That combination is the bomb. I mean, what’s not to like?’
She laughed again, her right hand tucked beneath her chin as she looked at him.
‘I take exception to being called hot, by the way.’
‘Yes ma’am,’ he actually enjoyed listening to her talk, and she had taken his mind of Abbey at least.
‘Now that’s cleared…can we continue with our lesson?’
‘What’s cleared? You didn’t give me an answer, woman.’
‘An answer to what, Genesis? Don’t do this abeg, or…’
‘Or what?’
‘I might have to put in a request for a change…if we can’t make this work,’ it was the first time he had seen her looking so solemn.
‘Just one dinner, Lola. Let’s get to know each other better. You are, after all my new best friend, right?’
‘Genesis.’
‘Once. It’ll be fun, I promise. Look at me now, I’m Mister Fun Guy.’
‘Fine. One dinner. And it’s not a date. Now, can we go back to our lesson?’
‘Yes ma’am.’

****
‘The babe dey form like say my chest no impress her…’ Tango was saying.
They were at an isi ewu joint in the area; Chris had just been paid salary and had offered to take them out for goat head and drinks.
As usual, the topic of discussion was their recent escapades and how far they’d gone in their game.
‘Wait T, you showed her your chest?’ Chris asked, nursing a bottle of Star.
‘Accidentally,’ Tango grinned, showing off a set of shallow dimples.
‘Abeg how persin dey take show persin chest accidentally eh? Abeg enlighten us…I wan learn.’ Sly munched away on his meat.
‘She been come my house…’
‘Wait, your house already? Bros, you sure say that geh na true spirikoko?’ Genesis interrupted.
‘I don dey her case for three weeks now o. Besides, I had to lie that I was sick to get her to come,’ he winked.
‘Correct, guy!’ Sly hailed.
‘So di geh show o. Omo, I tink say she go carry food flask come, as per sick persin. Omo, babe carry big Bible come o. And me I been dey without shirt, dey reason say if she come, she go play mother and then one thing go lead to another na…chai, na dat day I know say Nollywood sabi lie! If na Desmond Elliot do dat kain tin, na so di geh go fall sharply like persin wey no get gravity. Mtchew.’
His friends burst into laughter at his words.
‘Na you be mumu for believing Nollywood,’ Genesis chuckled.
‘Na you sabi.’
‘Oya continue…’ Chris urged him.
‘Di babe no even look my chest twice. She just stand for door talk say make I wear shirt before she go enter.’
‘Erm… but wait o T. Wetin be the babe name? Shebi you’ve known her for three weeks? Why you still calling her ‘babe’?’ Genesis didn’t know why it suddenly rattled him the way Tango referred to the girl. He had done it himself several times before; referring to the girl he was sleeping with as something impersonal like ‘babe’ or ‘chic’. It helped him keep an emotional distance, no strings attached so that it was easier walking away when he needed to. He didn’t do pet names or endearments; he didn’t ‘baby’ anyone and let no one ‘baby’ him either. The moment a girl started calling him ‘baby’, honey or whatever; he knew it was time to call it quits. Once, a girl he had been sleeping with started referring to him as ‘Poo-pooey’ in her text messages and Genesis had immediately screened her number. What the heck was poo-pooey?
‘Since when did names matter?’ Tango was saying.
‘I dunno…I just think it sounds…disrespectful especially since you’ve known her er…’ Genesis paused, uncomfortable. What was he getting at sef?
‘G-man, you well so?’ Sly asked. ‘We don’t care about her name. It’s just a freaking game! When he’s gotten what he wants, he’s out. So why use her name when she’s not even his girlfriend?’
The logic made perfect sense, or it would have on another day. But today, it just didn’t sit well with Genesis.
‘I just think…what if she was your sister and…some guy referred to her like…that?’ he pressed.
‘Dude, you did not think about that when we were agreeing to nail a spiri-koko sister o. Why is it important now? Wetin dey do you sef? You get belle?’ Sly snickered.
‘Ah…I think Genesis has a point,’ Chris spoke up in his quiet baritone. ‘Even if it is a game, the least we could do is remember that these girls are human beings…it’s not too much to ask to use their names in a conversation. They’re not inanimate objects.’
‘Biko, pause with that your grammar, Chris. This thing is not a big deal. Shebi na my babe she be? Then I will call her whatever the heck I want. O pari.’ Tango’s eyes flared briefly as he spoke.
Genesis sighed. He couldn’t understand what he had been fussing about but to him it suddenly mattered. He couldn’t picture himself calling Lola anything other than her name. Maybe it was because they had taken a more personal approach. It wasn’t just like the normal chase, this was different.
Their table went into an uncomfortable silence after the semi- brawl and Genesis found himself looking at his friends in a new light.
He had known Tango for five years now and he remembered when he’d first met him; at a club, charming the girls off their feet. He had liked the guy’s magnetic pull. There were always ladies around him and he oozed a type of confidence that was attractive. And yet when Genesis got closer to him, he saw that that was all he was- body, muscles and looks. His confidence came from his looks, and all he talked about was girls.
Whenever Genesis wanted to have an intelligent conversation, he went to Chris. Chris, the quiet intellectual one. Ordinarily, he wasn’t Genesis type; he preferred the boisterous outgoing guys as friends, but he was drawn to Chris’ ingenuity.
They had met at NYSC camp, they had been in the same platoon and had both represented their platoon in the debate competition. That was where Genesis had gotten interested in Chris and he had not known the relationship would last this long.
Sly was the oldest of Chris’ friends. They had gone to school together, studied the same course, but where Genesis was genuinely interested in engineering, Sly preferred clubbing.
It occurred to Genesis as he sat with them, gulping down drinks and exchanging small chit-chat, that something was going on in him that he could not explain. Whether he liked it or not, he was yet to find out.

The Club Of God-Fearing Men- 10

She picked on the first ring, like she had been waiting for the call.
For an instant, Genesis was caught off-guard.
“Finally!” she spoke, almost breathless. “Hello, who’s this?”
“I…um…this is Genesis from…”
“Ah, Genesis! I need a favour from you immediately, please! Do you stay anywhere around Opebi?”
He didn’t understand what was going on, but he replied, “Erm…yeah. I stay somewhere around Berger.”
Her sigh of relief was audible. “Good. Please, I need you.”
“Excuse me, but do you know who you’re speaking with?” He asked, befuddled.
“Genesis, yeah? Stalker dude with the weird name from Grace Assembly and then the club?” her words came out sounding like full-stops. Like she was fighting to be cordial yet abrupt; like she was talking to a 911 operative.
“Well, yes…no. I mean…”
He was no stalker dammit.
“Which is it please?”
“Yes, I am that Genesis.”
“Please I need your help…just…come over, please. Here’s my address.”
She didn’t wait for him to respond as she rattled off the address.
“When you get to the gate, just call me,” she said, with a finality that he could not argue.
Genesis wanted to ask if she was crazy, if she knew what time of the night it was. He wanted to tell her he wasn’t coming.
Instead, he said okay and hung up.
He did not think about it as he hurried into his clothes. There was nothing to think about, his brain wasn’t going to process anything about the situation at this moment so he figured his best bet was to get to her place and figure this whole thing out.
As he drove out of his compound, it occurred to him that she hadn’t bothered to know how he would find his way to her place. What if he didn’t own a car?
It was Sunday night, the roads were free and in ten minutes, he arrived at her gate.
As soon as he called to inform her of his presence, he saw the gate parting to let him in. In the dimness of his car lights, he saw her. She was carrying something.
He watched her struggle with the gate with one hand, while using the other to support the bundle she was carrying.
He stepped out of the car towards her.
“Leave it. I’ll open it,” he said, taking over.
She nodded and he noticed she was perspiring. Her feet were bare, like she had rushed out not caring.
What was going on?
He drove in and closed the gate behind him. By the time he was out of the car, she was standing on the porch.
“What’s happening?” he asked.
“Come in. I need you to help me with the girls.”
She turned to enter the house and Genesis saw her stumble, instinctively he reached out to steady her and his hand brushed against her skin. He recoiled.
She was burning hot.
“Jesus! You’re burning up!” he exclaimed, stretching his hand to take the bundle, which turned out to be one of the girls, from her.
“I’ll be fine. She’s worse.”
And yes she was; the little girl’s body seemed to be prickling with heat.
“You’re all sick?” he asked, following her into the house.
“Talk later. I need to get a wet towel to calm her temperature down. Would you do that for me, please?”
Genesis thought she looked terrible, she was almost swaying on her feet and there were bags under her eyes.
“Sure. Where do I get water and the towel?”
She pushed a small pink towel into his free hand and pointed him in the direction of what he surmised was the guest bathroom.
“Just keep dabbing her body with it. I have to attend to Amber.”
He didn’t ask questions; instead, cradling the whimpering girl in his arms, he set to work.
He didn’t see her again for another thirty minutes, mostly because he was busy with the girl and he didn’t bother looking up to know her mother’s whereabouts.
“You’d be fine, honey,” he whispered, over again to the child. Sometimes he found himself muttering soothing words he couldn’t remember, words whose origin he couldn’t fathom.
“Hey, how’s it going?” Abbey’s voice startled him from behind.
“It’s better than before,” he replied, touching the girl’s neck.
“Okay. I need to give her Paracetamol. Give her to me.”
“You can’t handle any more tonight. Don’t worry, I’ll carry her.” With that he lifted the child and carried her back to the living room.
He laid her on the couch, placing the damp towel on her forehead.
“Which one are you?” he asked, hoping to get her to talk.
She sniffed, blinking. “Augusta,” her voice cracked with unshed tears.
“Beautiful name for a princess. Augusta, you will stop crying now, okay? By tomorrow morning, you would be up and running, promise.”
Her nod was barely visible.
Abbey knelt beside him, touching her fingertips to her daughter’s face.
“Star baby, mummy’s gonna give you your drugs now and then pray for you. And then you’re gonna sleep and wake up tomorrow, good as new, okay?”
Genesis glanced at her, admiring the cheerfulness and hope in her voice. One he was sure she didn’t feel.
“Mummy…I’m afraid,” her voice was small as she spoke.
“Oh my baby, afraid of what?” Abbey was sitting now, a tremor in her voice.
“What if…what if…I don’t wake up tomorrow?”
The sheer simplicity of her question tore at Genesis heart and without thinking he said;
“Of course you will wake up tomorrow. Or don’t you want to see my handsome face again? Remember I promised you a treat when you get well?”
His heart warmed at the semi-smile that formed at the corner of her mouth.
“Okay…but my sister will come with us too.” She said, still in her soft voice.
“Deal.” He gave her a small tap on her hand.
*******

The next time he checked the clock, it was half past midnight and that was when he had the opportunity to actually settle down with Abbey.
After administering her meds, Star had drifted to sleep almost immediately but Amber had needed more attention because she had been having difficulty breathing all night as a result of her asthma.
After some struggle, she had finally drifted to sleep and Genesis had helped tuck both girls in.
It was when he and Abbey both slumped on the couch in the living room that he realised how much time had gone by.
“You don’t know what you’ve done for me, Genesis,” Abbey began, running her fingers through her weave. “I owe you big.”
She looked tired, like she had just been through a marathon. Despite the chilly air in the living room, she still had beads of sweat formed on her nose. It was then he noticed she was still fully dressed in one of her customary turtle necks.
“You should take a cold bathe. Your temperature was a bit on the high side when I came in,” he said. It occurred to him that there was nothing suggestive about his suggestion. It was something he would say to an old friend. The thought of it made him smile inwardly.
“I’m fine. Don’t worry about me,” she said.
“At least get rid of the turtleneck,” he said. “We don’t want you sick too.”
“Genesis, I said I’m fine, okay?” she snapped.
He nodded, standing. “I think I’ll take my leave now, ma’am.”
She shuffled to her feet too, her hand reaching out to touch him. “I’m sorry. I’m just a bit strung out. You’ve really been a God-send. It’s late, you should stay…”
Under different circumstances, Genesis would not have hesitated to take her up on her offer, but it crossed his mind that she was probably asking out of courtesy, not because she really wanted him there. After all, she had used him, what more did she need him for?

And so he shook his head.
“I should leave.” He didn’t wait for her to protest; instead he took long strides to the door, closing it softly behind him, he let the darkness embrace him.
To Be Continued…
Mimi A.

The Club Of God- Fearing Men – 6

He did not want to believe he was imagining her, or that his subconscious had conjured up her presence.

“Guy!” someone nudged him again.

He snapped out of his semi-trance and looked back at his friends; his first instinct was to tell them who she was, but then again, what use was it? How would he tell his boys that the first woman that had caught his eye in the church was a mother of two? They would laugh him out of the room.

He had always been known for his ability to cut a clean deal with the women he dabbled with. Tango was the one who usually had a lot of woman drama because he couldn’t seem to keep his pants zipped. There was always one lady out to get back at him for something he had done. He could be likened to Barney Stinson from the popular sitcom How I Met Your Mother.

“Ermm…I…never see any correct babe yet.” He stuttered, dragging his eyes from Abbey who was now entering the club fully with the dude in earrings.

“Why you dey dull now? You don start to dey chuk eye to find Miss World for inside church abi?” Sly asked.

The type of women he frolicked about with were not necessarily the Miss Worlds’ of their generation, his friends knew he could be picky when it came to women even if it was going to be a fling.

As much as he admired women with big hips, balloon sized boobs and a pretty face; he was easily turned on by a woman who could stimulate him intellectually.

If after sleeping with a woman, all she could talk about was how ‘big’ he was, how ‘good’ he was, how ‘sexy’ he was, Genesis knew he wouldn’t last long with her.

Once, there was a woman he had an affair with for ten months, which was a huge deal for Genesis. He had met Ifeyinwa at a business conference organized for engineers, dominated by men. Ifeyinwa had been one of the two women at the one week conference, the other woman was married.

She wasn’t beautiful in the conventional way; her curves were minimal, her boobs were not much bigger than the size of an average mango. In fact he often teased her that her brains were bigger than her boobs.

So it wasn’t beauty that attracted him to Ify; it was the question she asked during one of the seminars at the conference. A question that had even the facilitator at the seminar, reeling in confusion.

His eventual answer had been, “let me get back to you on that, Miss.”

That singular act snagged Genesis attention. He knew he just had to meet her, he had to talk to her, he had to or he would die of not-knowing.

Their first conversation literally blew him away, if he had thought he was smart before, Ify reduced him to mint-sized intelligence.

When she spoke about immiscible liquids and azeotropes, stuff they had learned in chemical engineering, Genesis felt the undisputable urge to kiss her.

When they finally had sex, for him, it was like she was a goddess and sleeping with her was an act of worship.

Ten months! And even when it ended it was because she had to travel out of the country. He didn’t know the plans he had for Ify then, but she had kept him active mentally and sexually longer than any other woman had in a long time.

His guys had teased him about her for months even after she left. They wondered if she had jazzed him because according to them, there were no assets to make her worth keeping around for nearly a year.

If only they knew.

He could dare to say that he had possibly come to the closest thing there was to love with Ify. If love could be classified as great sex and great brains, then hell yeah; he had been so much in love with Ify.

Personally, he felt love was overrated. He wasn’t a cynic, wasn’t one of those people who believed that love was a farce or a mirage. Nope, he believed that love existed. The kind there was between mother and child. The kind that gave without expecting something in return, just like the kind of love he had for his mother.

He knew there was nothing he couldn’t do for that woman, he didn’t know how or why but she was the closest thing to an idol he had. It was because of the intensity of the love he felt for his mother that he believed that no other woman could beat it.

He had tried loving someone else once, had even come close to marrying her, only to discover that she had been using him to get into her father’s Will.

The incident had stabbed Genesis’ confidence somewhat, that he could be a tool someone used, while he gave almost everything; his time, his heart, his little money, Lola had proven to him that no matter how much you give in ‘love’, it would never be enough.

He sighed as he thought of Lola, his first and possibly, only love. Lola, the manipulator. Whenever he looked back at what he had done for her all in the name of love, Genesis pinched himself. He hadn’t been in love, he had been stupid.

“…ladies and gentlemen, as is our tradition fortnightly, we have with us AB Plus who’s gonna light this place up with her feisty voice,” the voice cut through Genesis reverie, jerking his attention to the present. It was the ear ringed man; he was on the stage, his arm around Abbey’s shoulder.

AB Plus?

Now this was going to be interesting.

“AB Plus and I go way back. She’s got the voice of a nightingale, let’s show her some love!” there was a slight ripple of applause from the crowd as ear ringed man stepped down and Abbey took the mic.

“Hi everyone. I’d be doing a song I love so much by Whitney.” her voice settled on the audience like warm chocolate.

Genesis realized it was one of the things he found fascinating about her; her voice had an effect he couldn’t quite explain.

“Di babe fine oh,” Tango whispered, hoarse.

Genesis ignored him, his attention on Abbey. She closed her eyes, tilted her neck slightly, opened her mouth and began to sing.

“As I lay me down

Heaven hear me now,

I’m lost without a cause

After giving it my all…”

There was an eerie silence as she rounded off the song.

“I look to you,

I look to you

After all my strength is gone,

In you I can be strong,

I look to you…”

It was like something from another world had passed among them. Men who were usually rambunctious, who would whistle in derision more often than not after a soulful rendition like that; sat still, like boys awed by the sight of Santa.

Genesis felt it too. His eyes couldn’t leave her face.

She opened her eyes, looking around, she said with a poignant smile:

“Jesus still loves you.”

In that moment, Genesis could have sworn she was talking to him.

“Thank you for listening,” she said and then stepped down from the stage.

The club erupted in applause as she walked away; out of the corner of his eye, he saw men reaching out to shake her hand as she walked by them.

It was an odd sight. Handshakes at a club?

“What just happened?” Genesis heard Chris whisper.

“I dey come,” with that he stood abruptly and followed after Abbey.

He didn’t know what he was doing, in fact her seeing him here would surely blow his ‘Christian brother’ cover but what the heck, he knew he just had to talk to her.

“Hey, Abbey!” he called, hurrying after her.

She stopped and looked over her shoulders. Her face was flushed and beads of sweat formed on her forehead.

He caught up with her.

“Yes?”

“Hey.”

“I’m sorry, your name again?” she frowned.

“Ah and I thought my name was memorable,” he feigned hurt, placing a hand on his chest.

She gave a small laugh, shaking her head. “Truth is I can’t even remember where I met you.”

Genesis was calculating whether that was a good thing or not.

“Never mind. Buy you a drink?”

“No thanks, I don’t drink.”

“Oh come on, Chapman? It’s the least you deserve after such a rendition.”

“Who are you again?” she was facing him fully now, and even though the lights in the club was dim, he could see her face. And it was remarkable.

“Let me buy you a drink and I’d tell you,” he didn’t know why but he needed to talk to her. After a beat he added “please.”

She sighed. “One drink. I have…chores to do at home.”

Children, his brain corrected.

“Thank you. I won’t keep you long, I promise.” He slipped on his most charming smile.

“How about we just hang around here. Going further into the club is…well…I don’t need it.” She suggested, sliding into the nearest empty seat.

“Okay I’ll go get your drink,” he lingered a moment to look at her again, perhaps afraid that by the time he got back she’d be gone.

When he got back, she was still there but someone else was sitting with her. A burly man sat in the seat beside her, leaning forward as though listening raptly to what she was saying.

She looked up at Genesis, gave him a small smile and the finger sign for one minute.

Genesis was irked but he didn’t let it show. What was the man doing? And on time he had begged from her!

He set the drink quietly before her and took a seat, inclining his ear towards their discussion.

“He died because he loved us, not because we were good enough. So no matter how condemned you feel, God doesn’t condemn you. Only the devil does that. So Mr. Bamidele, it takes absolutely nothing to find your way back to God again. Trust me.”

Genesis shifted in his seat. What in deuces was this sorta of conversation?

“Listen, I can recommend a good church for you. I can give you my card to call if you have any questions about Christ or salvation. But…only that, Mr. Bamidele.”

Genesis listened to the man thank her profusely and stumble back into the club with his bulk.

“Sorry to keep you waiting…I just…kingdom business.” She placed her hand on the table, angling towards her drink.

“It’s okay,” he noticed her eyes were a dark hazel color. “So, what’s the story here? Why are you in a club singing Whitney Houston and preaching Jesus? It’s ironic.”

“It’s a long story and I really can’t get into it now, especially not with a familiar stranger.” She took a sip from her drink.

“My name is Genesis.”

“Aha! Now I remember! Wait…Grace Assembly?”

He inclined his head to show she was right.

“Wow. Wow. Coincidence, then?” she raised an eyebrow.

“Well, isn’t there something in the Bible about the Lord ordering the steps of the righteous?”

She laughed again, “nice one, Genesis.”

“So I am no stranger anymore and I am interested in that story. Can I buy five more minutes of your time?”

“Hmmm.” She glanced at her wrist. “I’m afraid not. We’d have to reschedule.”

“Uh…a date?”

“No, a story-telling appointment. I don’t do dates, Genesis.”

“Okay, okay. I’ll call you?”

“You have my card, yeah?”

He couldn’t tell her he had dropped it somewhere he couldn’t remember, so he lied.

She downed her drink and stood, “thanks for the drink, Genesis. I have to go now, though.”

“Wonderful singing again, I must say.” Although he thought wonderful was a light way of describing her rendition.

“Thank you,” with a slight bow, she disappeared into the night; leaving Genesis staring at the space where she sat only a moment ago.

To Be Continued…

Mimi A.

The Club Of God- Fearing Men- 5

Genesis week was usually busy; living in Lagos had taught him to be quick on his feet. He left home most mornings before 6 am so he could make it to his office on or before 8 am and even though he usually closed work by 5pm, he didn’t usually get home till sometime around 7pm depending on what day of the week it was.

So it was little wonder that during the week he had little or no time to socialize, well, apart from flirting with the ladies that worked with him, people whom he tired of seeing their work-hardened faces every day, he had no other means to sate his natural affinity to women.

Which was why he looked forward to weekends; Fridays were usually eventful for him. He and the boys hung out at any club they chose; drinking, talking, laughing and he usually left the club with a woman on his arm and if she was lucky, in his bed.

Some of them made it to his arm, but ended up in the restroom stall or the back of his car, depending on how drunk she was. He was a man who liked to be in control; as much as he liked the women, picking up women when drunk wasn’t his thing.

In fact, getting drunk or stoned wasn’t his thing, generally. That was more Tango’s thing. He wondered how his friend still kept his body fit for the modeling jobs he did.

This Friday, they had agreed to try out a club/bar/whatchamacallit. Among the quartet; only he and Chris had cars of their own. Tango didn’t like driving, he said he preferred the adrenaline rush that came from jumping into Danfo buses and he was more likely to meet women in transit than from the comfort of a private car. They would think he was a serial killer or something if he tried picking them up; yes, his body could be bad news like that.

Genesis often wondered if Tango’s mum had birthed him through the right part of her body, because the things he said and did were like he was from another planet.

Sly, on the other hand, was saving up to buy a land which according to him, was on the top of his priority list.

Apparently, he had a phobia for living in rented houses because of what he and his family had suffered when he was still little. His one obsession was to become a landlord soon.

“Being a landlord can mean just owning your land. That’s the first step. If I have my own land now, I can open canopy there and be sleeping under and nobody will disturb me. That option is still better than living in some ugly, hungry pot-bellied man’s house.”

They arrived at the bar in twos, Genesis picked up Sly from Maryland on his way from work and Chris picked Tango up from his latest modeling company. They had agreed to do a small briefing on Operation Nail a Spirikoko Woman that evening.

Genesis wasn’t much looking forward to it mostly because he hadn’t yet found the woman, he had tossed Abbey’s card inside one of his jacket pockets when he got home from church that Sunday.

He had made up his mind, she was no-go area. A widow and a single mum? C’mon, he wasn’t looking to start a charity organization here. He’d find someone else; he had after all seen some prospective women at that Grace Assembly church on Sunday. Abbey could go to hell, for all he cared.

They arrived at the club early. It was just 9pm and on a Friday night, the club was supposed to be vomiting human beings like a volcanic eruption.

Genesis loved it. The mesh of bodies grinding against each other on the dance floor, the opportunities to grope and cop a feel without being labeled a pervert. Heck, he’d had women grab his ass on the dance floor and pretend it was a mistake; baby, please make that mistake often, he always thought.

Tonight though, he took one look at the setup of the club and knew this was not a regular club.

He turned to Chris since he had been the one to suggest this place; “Guy wetin be dis na? Dem get live band for hia!”

“That’s the beauty, Gen.” Chris was a teacher in a secondary school and avoided speaking pidgin so much because he said it affected him while teaching at school. He knew an English teacher who had been fired because she slipped in pidgin while she taught her class. “No be every time pesin go listen to pirated music. Trust me, their bar here na wa.”

Genesis sighed. Of all his friends, Chris was the softest and most loveable. He had a big heart that Genesis often envied. While the rest of them ran after women just for the heck of it, Chris actually cared. Women are to be treated like treasure chests, he often said in a melancholic tone.

It was no surprise, he had five sisters. He was probably hoping that if he treated the girls he met nicely, some other dude would do the same for his sisters.

“Una dey dull pesin. Abeg I need a drink,” with that Tango pushed past them and headed towards the bar.

“If we needed live band eh, Chris, we for go church. Dem plenty for dia.” Sly punched him playfully and followed behind Tango.

“Drink?” Chris asked Genesis as they scouted around for seats.

“Vodka and juice. Make I go find table,” both men parted ways.

Genesis particularly liked the twirling multi-coloured lights. He also liked the fact that the club had an outdoor setting. The platform for the live band was sheltered in a small brown alcove with dazzling lights. The dance floor was a few paces away from the platform.

He patted his pocket as he settled into a table with four chairs. Friday nights were usually so crazy that if you were too drunk or too careless, they’d pick everything off you; your phone, wallet, ATM cards, every damn thing.

His first attempt at clubbing had been like that, he had gone with an older friend who had promised to pay for everything. The friend’s pocket had been picked while two girls draped themselves over him, with boobs ogling at him. Genesis remembered sneaking out of the club when he realized what had happened.

“Oya, hafar?” his friends had returned, each nursing a drink. Chris handed a glass to him and Genesis downed it, grateful for the chill as it travelled down his throat.

“Any luck?” Sly continued. “I don see church, see babe join sef.”

Genesis listened with rapt attention as Sly recounted his escapades. Genesis could tell that Sly’s church tilted more towards RCR because the girl that had caught Sly’s attention didn’t wear trousers and had her hair bundled under a heavy scarf.

“Her legs na die! Jesus! As we dey talk, I just dey imagine say I dey use tongue dey romance di leg.”

As he said that, a quick picture of Abbey flashed into Genesis’ mind’s eye and he sighed, involuntarily.

“So, wetin be di plan?” Tango asked.

“I dey go di church next Sunday na. From dia we go see.”

Chris was next. He was still going after the girl that had caught his attention before. For him, it was no game. Yes, he wanted to conquer but there was something more.

“There’s something about her that just…I no even know sef.” He shook his head, bewildered.

Tango was apparently finding it difficult to blend into a church. Churches irritated him, he said. Coupled with the fact that his body was quite er…obvious, girls gravitated towards him more often than not.

“How I wan take find spirikoko babe when all of dem dey hustle for me?” he lamented. “Even in church!”

“Look for di one wey no dey hustle you. Na she be real spirikoko,” Sly advised.

“What if dem no dey? What if…they all want some of this?” he puffed his chest out in a comical way.

His friends laughed.

“One go dey wey no want. And even if she want, she no go dey follow you like monkey.” Genesis said.

“Oya, talk ya own. You don find church abi babe?” Tango asked.

Genesis paused. He had found the church, right? The babe nko?

As he opened his mouth to tell them no, he hadn’t found the woman yet, he spotted her.

She had just entered and stood in the walkway, beside a man who had earrings on. She looked a little different from when he saw her on Sunday, she was clad in jeans and t-shirt and sneakers.

What the heck was she doing here?

“Guy, wetin you dey look?” Sly nudged him.

His mouth opened and closed again, the words didn’t come out.

Whoever had said he would forget about Abbey the singer so soon had been lying. She was here, in the flesh. At the club!

To Be Continued…

Mimi A.

The Club Of God- Fearing Men – 4

His belle turned out to be a visiting singer from some other church. Her name was Abbey.

He spent half the service fantasizing about her, the moment she mounted the auditorium, he let his mind wander.

So what did it matter that she was from another church? All it was going to take was for him to move base to whatever church she was attending. He thought singing made her sexy. Maybe she’d sing out a few lines for him when they were in his bed with her long legs wrapped around…

The moment she began to speak, not sing, Genesis knew that this one was one of God’s closest. He had heard many people preach and before long, he deciphered that they were wannabe motivational speakers. They ‘preached’ just to get the crowd excited, they lied to them that the moment they became Christians, the millions would roll in, say bye-bye to a life of troubles. Jesus will take all the troubles away.

And some desperados bought that lie hook line and sinker.

This woman spoke like she knew what she was talking about, not like she had read from some handbook and was only reciting what she had read. She spoke like one who had firsthand knowledge and experience of the God she served and that made her more appealing to Genesis.

“Sometimes we look at our lives as believers and we wonder why we are. So many questions; why, where, when, how, who. I remember a period I was going through dark times and I asked myself many questions. Why did God take interest in me? What was so special about me?” she paused for effect, then said; “and this song by Marvin Sapp came to me…He saw the best in me, when everyone else around could only see the worst in me.”

She didn’t sound corny. Or maybe he was just biased by her great shape or was it her voice?

“Listen to me good, people. God doesn’t care how messy your life is or how messed up you are, He’s provided a solution even before you knew it. He sees you through His eyes. All you need to do is accept the solution He provided and live your life free of guilt. Do you understand me?”

It was no surprise that she had the congregation spellbound, heck he was too.

When she began to sing, Genesis could have sworn he was transported to heaven, or somewhere close to it. He had come prepared for something but definitely not this. He had not prepared to actually enjoy himself. This was supposed to be a game; he was supposed to get in, find the woman and get out. He wasn’t supposed to mingle, wasn’t supposed to join these people in waving their hands like he actually cared, wasn’t supposed to move his body to the rhythm of her song.

And yet he was.

If not for the fact that the picture of her, naked except for thongs; was dancing across his mind, he would have sworn he had been converted by mistake. He imagined her singing in his ears, her tongue darting slowly across his earlobe.

It was with this picture plastered firmly in his mind that he approached her as soon as the service was over. Good thing his mother had built this insane confidence in him, he wasn’t afraid to approach a woman he found attractive especially if he thought he had a chance with her. It didn’t matter how many scriptures she spewed out, he had more than enough to match hers.

She was sitting in the black leather seat provided for her, somewhere in the Pastor’s corner; gulping water from a bottle.

“Hi,” she stopped as she saw him. Then she smiled, her eyes folded lightly in a cute way.

“Hello,” he put out his hand to sake hers. “I just wanted you to know that I was really blessed by your song today. It was so inspiring.”

He knew the right words to say to not sound carnal. People like this liked to hear how much their singing blessed you; it made them feel like they were doing God’s work for real.

“I’m glad, thank you. All glory to God.” She shook his hand, her grip was meaty.

“And I must say you have a lovely voice.”

Throw in a personal compliment that she’d have to acknowledge instead of shifting it to God.

She smiled again “Thank you. And what’s your name?”

“Genesis.” He paused, waiting for the why-did-your-parents-name-you-that reaction.

“Wow,” she looked at him then, her eyes taking in his features that she had possibly ignored before, probably wondering what was so spectacular about him to be named Genesis.

“I get that a lot,” he replied, bestowing her with a winning smile.

At that moment, two girls scurried up to them, ensconced in pony tails and frilly dresses.

“Mummy, see! Look what they gave us!”

Genesis eyes widened. What the blazes? Mu- what?

Both girls climbed into her laps, giggling and holding out their parcels. She laughed, pulling them to her.

“Girls, mummy would see it later, okay? Now, Mummy is talking. Oya greet this uncle.”

As the girls greeted him, Genesis thought how this resembled a story from a bad sitcom. How could this gorgeous no-excess fat woman, be a mother of not one but two girls? How could he not have foreseen that she was married? Or was she a single mother?

“Hello girls, are you twins?” it was a lame question. But all he could think of at the moment

“Everyone sees that,” girl 1 replied, with an attitude.

“Amber! Oya, go and wait for me with Auntie Joke, we’ll soon go home.” With that their mother urged them off her laps.

“Pretty,” his former enthusiasm had waned.

“With big mouths too. They just turned seven last month and it’s been like a whirlwind. So, Genesis, how long have you been attending Grace Assembly?”

He couldn’t concentrate on this discussion especially not while he was wondering if she was married or not.

If she was married, he would back out. As much as he liked games, Genesis respected the institution of marriage. He had watched his mother deal with his father’s infidelity for over a decade and it had torn at his heart.

“Why won’t you leave him, Mummy?” he asked, often.

“And then what? Marry again? Or be lonely for the rest of my life?”

“You deserve better.”

“I have better. Some women have husbands who beat them. Your father is a good man and he keeps me warm at night. He respects me; he doesn’t bring those women home.”

“And that’s enough for you?”

He couldn’t understand how a woman who had raised him to be fiercely confident could be this…this…meek and accepting.

“How’s your husband?” he blurted before he could stop himself. His eyes sought out her ring finger. Sure enough, it bore a gold band. How had he missed it? Had he been too taken with her looks to see what was so obvious?

A smile crept into her face and she said; “He’s with the Lord.”

Translation: he don kpai.

He wasn’t sure how to feel about this news.

“Oh. I’m sorry,” he stumbled on the words.

“Don’t be.” She glanced at her wrist and Genesis took the hint.

“I would love to talk more with you. Dinner, maybe? I know it’s unconventional and well…unexpected but I just think there’s a lot I can learn from you.” He was blabbing, he knew. But he couldn’t go ahead and say; ‘please I made a bet with friends, I think you’re hot and would like to take you to bed right this minute.’

She dug in her handbag and handed him a small card.

“You can reach me on any of those numbers. Nice meeting you Genesis.”

His eyes followed her bum discreetly as she walked away from him.

What now, Gen?

To Be Continued….

Mimi. A.

The Club Of God- Fearing Men- 3

Genesis was not exactly a connoisseur of churches but he had been to his fair share of them to know which was which. He had also grown up with a righteous, religious mother.

http://www.zazzle.com

He knew there were different kinds of churches. The body of Christ had long divided itself, he observed.

There was the come-as-you-are type of church, those ones were well populated with all kinds of people. They had the good, bad and ugly. They were the ones that cared about who wore what and who drove what kind of car to church. The pastor would usually be a thirty-ish man with sleek suits, a darn beautiful wife and permed hair. He would be the type who jumped up and down the pulpit and talked about how much God wanted you to be rich.

That was the kind of church he preferred generally. Whenever he chose to not spend Sundays at hoe, whenever he felt he needed a cleansing of some sort; he would find one come-as-you-are church and fix himself.

He had once dated a girl who attended one of those churches. Her name was Lois and she was crazy about marriage more than she was about him. He had been twenty four then, certainly not thinking about marriage, but of course she hadn’t known that. She dragged him to church one day and promptly introduced him to her pastor as her ‘missing rib’. Genesis had almost choked on suppressed laughter that day.

“Are you born again, young man?” the Pastor had asked.

“He goes to church, sir.” Lois had said before he could reply.

Again, Genesis hid a snicker. The pastor was asking the wrong person that question

‘Have you confessed Jesus with your mouth and believed Him in your heart?” the Pastor had asked, still solemn.

Yes, he wanted to say. Lois and I confessed together last night, in my bed. She confessed my name with her mouth and the orgasm I gave her almost made her heart explode. She literally got born again in my bed last night. So yes, that counts.

“Yes sir,” he said instead with a barely-straight face.

And that was it. The Pastor had given them their blessing. Genesis had walked out of the church that day, warning Lois never to ambush him that way and in fact, breaking up their relationship.

So yes, he had a lot of experience with CAYA churches.

The second type of church he had witnessed was the Republic Of Church Repellants. Those types could smell sin from afar. They would look at you with what he called the Eye of Judgment and write you off instantly by the way you look on the outside. They were the type that would out rightly quote the-soul-that-sinneth-shall-die.

These types he did not like because the men dressed like underfed herbalists with faded or jump-up trousers and sometimes had irreparable body odour. Their mouth odour was the type that came from too much fasting that it had become the permanent smell of their mouths. They believed going to heaven was something that required looking tattered on earth. He had met so many of them while he was in the University and they disgusted him with their overly loud praying habits, the many fires they set to their enemies and the way they pretended they did not masturbate in the privacy of their rooms.

The ladies on the other hand dressed like sadists, like they’d been told that wearing colorful dresses was a mortal sin. They dressed in pleated ash skirts that hid their buxom (if any) asses and turtleneck shirts without shapes. They dressed like they were mourning the Jesus who died instead of celebrating the one who lived.

http://www.religifake.com

His mother, he felt was a good example. He had never seen a woman so devoted to God and yet so fashionable. She had lived with their unbelieving father for many years and had managed to remain in the faith, as she often reminded Genesis and his brother. Truth be told he was looking for a woman like his mother. One who would be so dedicated to God and yet everything about her screamed romanticism. Someone that would be sexy but totally unaware of it. Someone who would look him in the face and throw his bullshit right back at him.

Not someone who faked spirikoko-ism, but someone who truly was.

That would be the true challenge.

So when he walked into the church he had decided on, for that Sunday, Genesis’ church sensors went up. The man who welcomed him at the door, smiling politely was dressed in a worthy outfit of jeans and a shirt.

Good, at least these ones didn’t consider wearing jeans a sin.

He smiled back at the brother and was passed on to the next usher; a lady this time, in smart jeans and a shirt too.

Apparently, it was jeans Sunday. He groaned within as he saw that most of the congregation was clad in jeans.

It must be a special program. He thought, taking his seat beside a lady whose head was bowed.

In the few seconds it took for him to survey his environment, he knew he had hit jackpot. This was it.

All he had to do was wait for the choir to come upstage or upaltar, or whatever they called it these days and he would know if the deal was sealed.

Time to settle into play acting. He closed his eyes and joined in the prayer frenzy with one eye open.

Just as he was getting restless that the prayer session was getting too long, he spotted her through the space in his hands.

She had just walked in, her right hand clutching her purse. She whispered something to an usher and continued walking; past him. On her head, was a baseball cap, matching her casual outfit to a tee.

He shifted his position to get a good look at her.

Darn, she was beautiful, he thought. Jackpot, baby.

His eyes followed her as she continued to the front. Her bum was obscured by the overlapping long shirt but he could tell from her hips that she had a fairly big bum.

But why she had to go all the way to the front, he had no idea. Was she one of those women that loved to sit up close to listen to the Pastor?

Oh well, he was about to find out.

To Be Continued…

Mimi .A.

The Club Of God-Fearing Men – 2

When he was six, Genesis had given his life to Christ before the congregation of children. It was his first attempt at that and he could faintly recall the childish excitement that had plowed through him as he stood among others, bowing his head and repeating those words after the children teacher.
He had taken the life back fifteen days later, or so he believed, when he had stolen a piece of meat from his father’s covered bowl of soup.
His father was not religious, it was his mother that took him and his brother to church every Sunday while his father sat at home, smoking cigars and reading the sports section of the papers.
He had once asked who named him Genesis and his mother had confessed that she had always wanted to name her children after significant books of the Bible. She had named him Genesis because he was the first; named his brother Matthew because he was the beginning of new things a.k.a new testament. She had admitted that if she had a girl, she’d have named her Ruth or Dorcas, the purple woman.
In a way, Genesis appreciated his name and the illusion it often created. People automatically assumed that he was a good person whenever he mentioned his name. After all, how could one answer a name as significant as Genesis and still be bad?
He had his first girlfriend when he was eleven; her name was Amarachi and she was two years older with breasts the size of agbalumo which he was awed by; her skin was the colour of one who barely escaped albinoism- yellowish red. She was the newest girl in class, older than most of them because her father was a contractor who moved around a lot, causing adverse effects on his family.
Genesis had known he was very good-looking early in life; his mother boasted about her sons every moment possible. She would stand them in front of the rectangular mirror in her room and tell them they were the most beautiful boys’ a mother could ever wish to have. She would proceed to point out the ‘beautiful’ parts of them. Their pointy nose, their nearly-pink lips, their straight legs, their full head of hair and their brains.
‘You are both very intelligent, do you know?’ she would say. ‘My children cannot be dummies. If anybody calls you dummy, tell them you are smart.’
By the time Genesis was eleven, he was a confident boy, comfortable in his skin. He knew what he was and nobody could take it away from him.
Till date, he mentally thanked his mother for building that confidence in them.
He gave his life for the third time when he was fifteen. The church his mother had been attending then had done an outdoor movie show where they played the movie ‘Burning Hell’.
The movie had been so vivid and fear-inducing that even those who had given their lives to Christ before, rushed out to give it again the moment the Pastor made an altar call.
Genesis couldn’t sleep for three days without hearing the sounds of those screams from hell. And each time he woke up, he begged God to forgive him and not throw him into hell.
The fear lasted exactly two weeks and he began to slip back into his old ways. The dreams stopped, the memory of the movie faded and he slowly but surely took his life back from Christ.
Since then he hadn’t given it again. He had sailed through university living the life of a man who liked his women, who knew what he had to offer and who wasn’t willing to relent on the fullness of life.
Genesis liked games and most of all, he was smart. That was another reason the ladies liked him. He was the one they came to for tutorials when exams were closing in.
The challenge of nailing a spiri-koko sister was one that sent adrenaline rushing through his veins. He was twenty-five, still virile and not looking to start a family so soon. Games like these, were what made life very interesting.
As he got ready for church that day, he replayed his plan in his head again.
He had not shared with his friends his strategy.
He would find the church, attend service there, twice at most and then miraculously ‘give’ his life to Christ in public glare. He would be touched by the sermon and kneel in reverence before God. His acting had to be top-notch to convince any potential prey.
A true spiri-koko woman, would not want to pass him up. He wasn’t just good looking; he had now confessed Christ in front of the church successfully denouncing his unbelieving ways. They would rejoice for him
She would no longer see the do- not- be unequally -yoked scripture as a barrier.
And he didn’t plan to target the choristers. Those ones with their cheap notice-me tactics, were all for the taking. One strike and they would fall without a challenge.
His plan was fool proof. He was sure that he won’t even need to approach the sisters with the abrasiveness of a hunter, they would come to him. Then he would pick his challenge.
He whistled to himself as he knotted his tie. First rule of the game; look responsible. A responsible unbeliever is more likely to get attention than a haphazardly dressed one.
‘I don set o,’ he called out, to Sly.
‘Which church you dey enter today?’ Sly emerged, dressed poorly, in Genesis opinion.
‘Hin dey Opebi side. I been see am as I dey come from work on Thursday,’ he opened his cupboard, took out a shirt and threw it at Sly. ‘Guy change that shirt, abeg. Why you dey fall my hand na? Na church you dey go, you wan make dem look you like pesin wey something dey worry abi?’
Sly shrugged, pulling off his own shirt. ‘De church wey I dey go, na so dem dey dress.’
‘That shirt no be am at all. E no follow abeg. Change am. Simple. And next time you wan come spend weekend for hia, carry beta cloth come.’
In two minutes, they were ready. While Sly slid into blue loafers that matched his jeans; Genesis wore his suede shoe that he kept for special occasions or work.
He had a good feeling about today, about this church. It might be the one.
His fingers tinkled with excitement as he locked the door behind them and set out.
Hello ladies, here I come.

To Be Continued.

Mimi. A. (C) 2015

The Club Of God-Fearing Men- 1

The alarm clock plus the continuous jabs to his back caused his eyes to peel open in a slow unhurried manner.

“Ahn ahn, wetin sef?” he croaked, rolling on his side.

“Seven ‘o’ clock don knack, dude. You don forget today na Sunday?”

The owner of the voice was Sly whose real name was Solomon.

“So, na im you wan break my back?” Genesis raised himself up, in slow movements. Everything about him was done without hurry. Nothing in life was worth the rush, he often told friends.

“Abeg your mouth dey smell. Na orijin you drink last night, abi?” Sly was hovering over the mattress in boxers and singlet, clutching a towel.

Genesis eyed him. “I no fit remember. I was wasted.”

“And you know say today na Sunday, you go party last night. Na so you wan go meet Jesus abi?”

“Why you dey shout? I tell you say I get hangover?”

Sly sighed, kicking the mattress. “We have a deal, dude. Don’t forget.”

Genesis moaned as he remembered the deal.

It had started out as a mini boys’ night out, like they usually did. Him, Sly, Tango and Chris were hanging out at the club that Friday, tossing back shots of tequila mixed with humour.

Then one of them, Chris, had said something about the latest girl he was into.

“One church babe like that o, the babe no dey even give me face,” he lamented. “And she fine die, see curves mehn!”

“Use your charms on her na. You na fine boy,” Sly urged.

“Omo, this babe is not smiling jor. I don try all my tricks, she no budge.”

“Then leave am. Wetin she get sef?” Tango said. He was tall with ripping muscles and stretch marks that crept out from under his sleeveless shirts.

“There’s something sexy about babes you can’t have,” Genesis chipped in, biting down on the lime that came with his drink. “Especially these real spirikoko church girls. Those ones that will dress simple without excess makeup and all that, and then when you look underneath that simple façade, there’s a hot chick waiting to be unleashed.”

“Exactly, bro.” Chris nodded.

“Are you saying church babes no dey get conji?” Tango asked, grinning.

“No, not every church babe, no be those ones wey dey rush hide under church when they don dey old and dey find God-fearing husband. Not that type. I mean deep, correct sistah-in-da-Lord.” Genesis continued.

“And na their own go sweet pass o!” Sly chuckled. He was dark with feral features that most women found irresistible.

“True!” the other three agreed.

“Anybody don nail that kain girl before? Tango?” Chris sked, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

“Why you call my name first eh?”

They laughed, they all knew that Tango was a relentless womanizer; his well-built chest and the fact that he often modeled, was an aphrodisiac for the women.

“Oya, make we do am like this. What is the thing church babes find most attractive?” Genesis asked.

“Jesus Christ?” Sly replied and they burst into laughter.

“Idiot. Check their prayer point and you will see the first thing there na God-fearing-man.” Genesis replied. “You see Caro my neighbor; on Friday night you go hear uh uh uh from her room and Sunday morning you go dey hear prayer of send me a God-fearing- husband. Even prostitutes dey find God-fearing man!” Genesis said.

“Oya in essence what are you saying?” Tango asked.

“I’m saying, Chris if you want to nail a spirikoko sister, you have to become what they want the most.”

“A God-fearing-man!” they recited.

And that was how it began. Their little joke had morphed into something like a challenge, four of them decided to take on new identities to nail the spirikoko women of their choice.

That was two weeks ago; since then they had been scouting for the right churches to attend.

The first one Genesis had attended had been disqualified the moment he met the usher at the door; a woman whose cleavages did more welcoming than the rest of her. His seatmate too, shoki-ed all the way through praise-worship and promptly dozed off as soon as the Pastor mounted the pulpit.

At the end of the service, the sister who was part of the first timers welcome committee had given him a hug that gave him an erection.

“We hope you enjoyed fellowshipping with us?” she said, with a bright smile.

“I sure did enjoy fellowshipping with them,” he replied, his eyes never leaving her heavy chest.

He did not return to that church, it would not have been much of a challenge to pick any lady in that church for their little game.

The second church he attended, located in the cul-de-sac in their street was a laugh. The first thing that had struck him was the lady who wore skirts so tight he thought they would split when she started rolling on the floor speaking in tongues.

He almost laughed at the display while watching it through his hands. Who said church wasn’t much fun?

This time when the service was over, a woman who looked a total contrast to the tight-skirt floor-roller, in her grey sweeping gown and headgear that covered her ears approached him with a semi-scowl.

Genesis had wondered if she could see into his soul and hated him already.

“Welcome brother. Are you born again?”

“Er…”he was taken aback, especially since he had planned to leave as soon as the service was over.

“You are not. I see generational curses following you, brother. Right there, hovering above your head is a black coffin. Brother, you need deliverance, you need help from God.”

“At least me I have coffin hanging over my head, you are lying inside a grave. Rubbish.” With that he hissed and exited the church.

Those were the two churches he had tried so far. His friends had spread out too; they didn’t want to concentrate on one church. So far, no body except Chris had found the right church to settle in.

Genesis sighed as he made his way to the bathroom; it was going to be another dramatic Sunday.

He hoped to have better luck at his next stop.

To Be Continued…

MIMI A 2015 ©

What’s Not To Love About Naija?

This isn’t a motivational piece telling you to rise up and rep Naija or to remind you of who you are as a Nigerian. You should read this, laugh about it and ponder the many things mentioned here then drop a comment. I’d love to hear from you.

Accents- British, American etc.
Am I the only one who appreciates how some Nigerians manage to be American, British and Yoruba all wrapped in one? Do you see our talented Nollywood stars? Don’t you think it makes us awfully talented, being able to talk like people from countries we’ve never set foot in? Our accent is unique. We have the Yorubas who miss their ‘h’s’, the Igbos who mix their ‘r’s’ and ‘L’s’, the Northerners who can comfortably mix their ‘f’s’ and ‘p’s’.
Tell me, what other country can fake our unique accents? So dear friend, the next time you fake that British-American-Indian accent and you actually pull it off nicely, give yourself a thumb up because you’re actually more talented than you think.

– Serial killers
We hear in the news of how someone walks into a school, takes hostages and starts shooting and ends up with numerous victims, or how some guy offs his girlfriend with multiple gunshots while thinking she’s an ‘intruder’. In Naija, we’d rather go for the more traditional way of rat poison if you feel so offended by the person. Or back in the days, juju would do it. No one is in actual possession of a gun or ‘emergencies’. Where can I buy a gun in Naija?
We have the occasional ritualists and then the occasional ‘armed’ robbers, but we don’t have a pyscho who walks the street kidnapping women, mutilating them and when he’s caught, blames it on having mummy issues when he was a kid. What mummy issues give you the license to become a serial something?
Shouldn’t Nigerians be grateful that religion is holding back some potential psychos, no?

– Government
We always blame the ‘government’ for our problems.
No light– government, no job–government, no money–government, no fuel–government, no happiness–government, childlessness–government. Everything is the government’s fault and our job is to sit back and blame them for it. What about the receptionists who collect bribes to enforce something that is your right? Is that the government too? What about those who are making money and are actually happy, what? Will they credit their happiness to the government?
Ultimately, we should be our ‘government’. We shouldn’t let anyone determine how happy or crappy our lives should be. No matter how little what you have is, make the best of it. There are people who thrive despite our economic state, ever wonder their secret? It’s time we take responsibility for our failures and leave the government alone.

– Spanking
How would you feel, Mum and dad if your eight-year old holds you ransom by threatening to report to the cops if you lay a finger on him/her as a form of discipline? What if your kid, whom you brought into this world and for whom you cater for, threatens to sue you for what sef…assault?
In Naija, we actually believe that sparing the rod will spoil the child. Corporal punishment should not be eradicated from the life of a child.
Parents, be grateful you aren’t getting sued for giving lil Emeka welts on his butt. Be grateful you’re in Naija.

–Jokes
Don’t you just love how Nigerians end up joking about everything? I love how we took the Ebola crisis to a whole new level with the salt and water trick. I marvel at how the BringBackOurGirls campaign eventually turned to TakeOurRunsGirls. I admire how our First lady became the butt of well-known jokes; I love how we have clowns who claim to be House of Rep members etc. running our government.
Seriously, what’s life if you can’t see humour in every situation? It is a gift to be able to see humour in impending doom. It is a rare privilege to be able to laugh and crack jokes about matters that actually make our heart bleed with tears. It is our own way of keeping our heads above water. It is our way of surviving amidst the dire and bleak circumstances in our country. If you’re a Nigerian, you have this uncanny ability. Don’t fight it.

– Patriotism.
Don’t you just love how Nigerians can be passionate about a thing that is none of their business? See the Ice bucket challenge for ALS, didn’t you see how our Nigerian celebrities were patriotic enough to dump a bucket of ice water on themselves to show how sympathetic they were to a sickness they’d probably never heard of before?
Or did we fail to mention how they joined the Americans in celebrating Thanksgiving, the Fourth of July?

–Religion
Is the most beautiful thing that happened to this country because after all is said and done, this is what keeps us together and drives a wedge between us at the same time. It is what keeps this country sane to an extent; it is why thieves visit their Pastor before an operation to ask for his blessing for their ‘businesses’.
This is also why our President invites Men of God to the Villa to pray and advise him too. This is why gay marriage cannot be legalised in this country. Who says religion is our curse?
Perhaps it isn’t religion that matters; it’s believing. It isn’t about masquerading behind religion but about putting to practice common principles of living. It is about doing to others what you want to be done to you. Won’t the country be a better place if our President thinks about his people before he takes any major step? Won’t our country be a better place if we all stopped exploiting each other?

Dear Nigerian, do not to lose hope in you because YOU are Nigeria and NIGERIA is you. So, join me as we reiterate what our National Anthem says;
“Arise Oh Compatriot!
…to serve our fatherland
With love and strength and faith,
The labour of our heroes past
Shall never be in vain,
…one nation bound with freedom, peace and unity.”

Happy Birthday Nigeria!

Mimi A.