African Quilt : 24 Modern African Stories (9781101617441)

by Solomon, Barbara H. (EDT); Rampone, W. Reginald, Jr. (EDT)

  Evangelist Peter had always kept the main door of the church shut on Sundays until fifteen minutes before the service began. Members of the congregation who came early had to stay in a line and, as soon as the door opened, would rush in to occupy the front seats. They were usually in their fine clothes and jewelries, and would converse and shake hands. The men would shake hands with the women, and the women had the same opportunity to shake hands with men, which was not common practice outside the church premises. Sometimes Evangelist Peter would shake the hands of the first fifty people or so in the queue before they were let into the church. He would hug a few women who often took responsibilities for church activities. Magdalene Ogbe always came early and often received a hug from the evangelist; her husband would receive a handshake. Many members of the congregation believed Evangelist Peter was a modern-day prophet with his hands soft like a ripe banana.

  This Sunday the usual humming of conversation could be heard. Many women showed off the latest fashions. New headties, new styles of blouses, and new fabrics bought from Lagos or imported from Marks & Spencer in London or from Dubai. They wore the different types of gold they craved for—Saudi, Italian, English, Dubai, or Indian. The men talked about where they had visited or the new contracts they had got from government agencies. This was a good part of Sunday, the showing-off time before the service began.

  However, those coming late could see that the crowd had grown and there was no line to fall into. It was a large crowd but in groups of threes, fours, and fives—a forest full of clumps of trees.

  This situation was because the early birds had found out that the church door was still shut even when it was already eleven o’clock. Was Evangelist Peter, always punctual to the minute, late this morning or why were people still outside? the latecomers wondered. He had never been late for service and they did not think that he was late that very Sunday morning. The evangelist had the mind of God and so could not forget time, more so the time for worship on Sunday. He would not want to keep his flock waiting to worship God. Something must be amiss, they thought, but could not guess from a distance. There had been no word that their pastor was sick or that he had traveled. Evangelist Peter was always well especially as he had boasted of being covered by the blood of Christ that repelled all physical and spiritual ailments from him.

  The Sunday service attendants who had come first, and so were in front, saw what they thought was a prank. Who would intrude into the church premises at night to do this? What they saw was not only one poster but many. Could this happen? they asked. Their church building had been sold to another pastor. On the hand-carved huge front door was posted the boldly written “Under New Pastoral Management.” The same poster was pasted on different parts of the front wall of the church.

  The new pastor, an imposing man like a tall boxer, and his wife, both dressed as if they belonged to royalty, introduced themselves as the new owners and pastors of the church, which they had bought from the former owner—Evangelist Peter.

  “I am Pastor Emmanuel and my wife is Magdalene,” the new pastor said.

  They showed the signed agreement to those close enough to read the paper they flaunted before the crowd and asked the people to go in for worship.

  “After all, the house remains the house of God. I am only God’s messenger to bring you good news,” Pastor Emmanuel said.

  He was wearing a black suit as Evangelist Peter did on some Sundays. It was humid. He brought out a white handkerchief from one of his pockets and wiped sweat from his face. The sun was bright and one could feel the intense heat it had in store for the rest of the day.

  There was division among the congregation as to whether to go in or leave.

  “Let’s go in for worship,” one member of the congregation said; “you never can tell that this is God’s working and we have to accept it—He definitely works in a mysterious way. If the Almighty deems it necessary to give us a new pastor, let’s accept him. He may well be what we truly need.”

  Adam had never liked Evangelist Peter and had felt he favored the pretty women over other members of the congregation.

  “A church is not property that you sell for profit and then disappear to buy a cheaper one somewhere else,” Samuel argued.

  Samuel was one of the few men that Evangelist Peter took out on church missions. He was in the church’s Finance Committee that rarely met and only to approve Evangelist Peter’s accounts, but still felt favored by being in the committee.

  “We came to worship in Evangelist Peter’s church; now we are asked to be in Pastor Emmanuel’s church. It is only one God in the churches, really one church,” Adam said.

  “Why did you leave the Catholic Church for the Church of the New Dawn if it is all one church?” Samuel asked Adam.

  “We have put in so much energy and tithes into this church and whether or not it is sold, it remains our church,” a church member added.

  “I can’t imagine myself worshiping in another church,” Adam told them.

  “But the building alone is not the church. The pastor matters as well as the type of church,” another church member said.

  “Evangelist Peter and I are both men of God chosen to minister to you. Let’s not argue before God’s house. Don’t be a doubting Thomas! Go in and you will be satisfied that God never fails in His mysterious ways,” Pastor Emmanuel told the gathered crowd at the door of his newly acquired church.

  He could not imagine the people leaving. The failure of his takeover of the much coveted Church of the New Dawn would be disastrous for him. He had invested so much money into this new church and wanted it to continue to prosper so that he could give praise to the Lord for His kindness. Eighteen million naira was a huge sum of money to pay for a building and its congregation, but without the congregation the investment would be ruined, he pondered. The building was designed as a church and could not be converted into a block of flats, Pastor Emmanuel reflected. He just had to succeed by all means, if he was to avoid a business disaster.

  Pastor Emmanuel had acquired the art of persuasion from a source that would remain a secret all his pastoral life. He believed that to fight the devil, he had to use all means necessary, including devilish techniques. That was how he justified to himself his going to a medicine man to make the charm of persuasion. The traditional healer had used a needle to poke his tongue to bleed and rubbed it with some medicine as he chanted an esoteric invocation. That, he assured the pastor, would make whoever listened to him accept what he said as truth and also carry out what he asked to be done. What was important in the end was his ability to convert more people to his church and exercise authority over their lives. With that Pastor Emmanuel felt he could enforce the paying of tithes without any hassle and preside over a prosperous church.

  Pastor Emmanuel’s wife, Magdalene, was very supportive of her husband. She used to be called Grace but he made her change her name to Magdalene as soon as he became a pastor. That was a better Christian name than just Grace, he felt. Magdalene was the woman who had stood by Jesus even after his death. She had anointed Jesus. If Jesus had been an ordinary human, who wanted to marry, Pastor Emmanuel felt, the Son of God would have married no other woman but Magdalene.

  Magdalene was a very charming woman whose dress, face, and smiles were as persuasive as the pastor’s words. She was tall and had a well-proportioned shape. She walked with grace and whatever she wore gave her a unique charm. Pastor Emmanuel remembered what it had taken him to succeed among her many suitors. He had spent hundreds of thousands of naira in cash and kind to earn her attention and affection. He had planned ahead his successful life of a God’s servant. Emmanuel and Magdalene formed a good partnership in the crusade against darkness and demons. Each found the other’s company fortunate, as their partnership became strong with an ever-expanding beatitude.

  At the end of a long debate, which each side thought it would win or l
ose, depending on their tenacity to their viewpoint, the congregation was swayed over to enter the church by the new pastor and his wife.

  “Can’t you give me the benefit of the doubt?” he asked, when he saw the opposing argument as gaining more support.

  “My husband is a man of God that makes things to really happen. He knows how to pray, as a warrior knows how to fight his enemies,” Magdalene interjected.

  The congregation, feeling guilty for arguing so noisily with a man of God beside his newly acquired church, decided to give him the benefit of the doubt that he asked for and went in. Though the old order of entering the church was not respected, they sat in their usual seats.

  Nothing in the church had changed. The altar section, like other parts of the church, remained in the way they used to be arranged. Only one thing was absent and none there noticed it: the rose or other flower that Magdalene Ogbe used to place at the altar before Evangelist Peter started service. But that beautification only took place when Peter was there.

  It was as if it was a normal Sunday service but without Evangelist Peter, whose baritone voice always held them spellbound. He could sing and he could dance. His lilting voice would rise to a crescendo as the percussion instruments brought his dance steps to a staccato movement. He had been the lead singer and the rest of the congregation the chorus. Similarly, he had been the lead dancer and his congregation followed his graceful and agile steps. In their minds, they wondered if Pastor Emmanuel could match the evangelist’s dexterity and talents in song and dance.

  This first service at the Church of the New Dawn under new pastoral management proved to be a great success and more than pleased all present. There was something in Pastor Emmanuel’s voice that made them feel he could be trusted. Though he was in his forties, he preached like a wise old man who knew life and could advise others. He had a different voice from the evangelist’s, but his was like a river running leisurely towards the ocean, sure of where it was going and dissolving itself into the wide waters.

  When it came to preaching, Pastor Emmanuel performed the sermon he had practiced meticulously at home for weeks. He knew the consequence of not doing his utmost best in his first sermon in the new church.

  “Alleluia!”

  “Praise the Lord!” echoed from the pews.

  “I say Alleluia,” he repeated in a stronger voice.

  “Praise the Lord!” the church reverberated thunderously.

  “Al-le-lu-ia!”

  “Praise the Lord!”

  He was now primed enough to start to perform his sermon.

  As his sermon progressed, many people began nodding approval of his lessons. Some rose to shout “Amen!” to his prayers. And the whole church was on its feet to dance with Pastor Emmanuel and his wife. The congregation did not want the long service to end. It was as though they were suspended in a planet of pleasurable spirituality.

  Pastor Emmanuel was an artist and knew how to weave functionality and beauty into his craft. He was an experienced performer who took the cues from his enthusiastic audience. He knew how to connect with his audience and did wonderfully with the new congregation.

  Pastor Emmanuel and his wife felt his first day in his new church was a huge success. The three offerings accompanied by drumming and dancing fetched a staggering amount that made them smile. No wonder, they thought, Evangelist Peter struck a hard bargain with them. No pastor who made so much money every Sunday would sell his church unless he really had to, they now realized.

  * * *

  Once back home, some members of Pastor Emmanuel’s congregation started to hear strange things about Evangelist Peter. They started to add so many things together. It started as a rumor, which gossip easily transmitted to every attentive ear. The absence of Elder James Ogbe’s wife at church the past Sunday fueled the rumors and gossip. Some women had looked out for her when Pastor Emmanuel introduced his wife as Magdalene, the same name as Elder James’ wife. The Magdalene they knew, Mrs. Ogbe, was not in church that day. Now they remembered that the ritual of the flower being placed on the altar was not performed. “Where was Magdalene today?” many started to ask. They imagined she had not heard about the change of ownership of the church and might still be on an assignment that Evangelist Peter had arranged before he sold the church.

  “Did she get wind of the sale of the church and had stayed home in protest?” others started to ask.

  It was common knowledge that Magdalene Ogbe had been a favorite of Evangelist Peter. At thirty-seven, she was much younger than her husband in his late fifties. She had had no child in their ten years of marriage and looked very much in her prime in beauty. She was the leader of the women’s group and reported to the evangelist their discussions and resolutions. She had traveled many times with Evangelist Peter on church duties out of town, and to conventions out of state that lasted many days.

  Evangelist Peter had complimented her service publicly in the church. He always embraced and hugged her on Sunday mornings before worship, when he came to her; he shook hands with most other women.

  Magdalene, the name that the evangelist had given to her, stuck. She had been Agnes, which the evangelist said was not as Christian as Magdalene. Unknown to Elder James Ogbe, his wife and Evangelist Peter had been having a secret relationship and she had received numerous favors from the evangelist—always in the delegation traveling on behalf of the church. Rumors had started, but none wanted to imagine that the evangelist could do such an immoral thing as sleeping with his church member’s wife.

  Magdalene went often to see Evangelist Peter to pray for her at different times of the day. Church members noticed her frequenting the pastor’s office and home but their minds did not wander beyond her not conceiving all the years of marriage. They pitied her and her husband—such a gentle and godly couple!

  There were rumors too that Elder James Ogbe was either impotent or weak as a man, but again, nobody wanted to imagine such a beautiful woman married to a eunuch.

  “How could that beautiful woman have married such a mature man without a taste of the thing first?” They asked many questions.

  When such rumors first came, the bearers were seen as agents of Satan.

  “Don’t defame a man of God,” one member of the church had said.

  “The good ones will always be smeared by the rumormongers of this world,” another had added.

  “Those who perjure the evangelist will roast in hell,” another swore.

  * * *

  Magdalene Ogbe had conceived. It was a miracle that only she and Evangelist Peter knew about. They did not expect it, but it happened. They accepted the crop whose seed they had been planting.

  The two secret lovers went underground for a few days. Only Pastor Emmanuel and his Magdalene knew that Evangelist Peter and Magdalene Ogbe had migrated to the United States to start a new life. As part of the contract that included the sale of the Church of the New Dawn, Pastor Emmanuel had secretly married Evangelist Peter and Magdalene before they took off. That was after they confessed their sins to Pastor Emmanuel who forgave them. That also was part of the contract. Only his wife, the namesake of the new bride, was witness to the ceremony that took place in Pastor Emmanuel’s house after midnight.

  “We are entering a new dawn,” Evangelist Peter quipped.

  “God bless both of you!” the pastor pronounced.

  “And God also bless you with the Church of the New Dawn that I hand over to you,” Peter told the pastor and his wife, as he handed to them the keys of the church.

  That night Evangelist Peter and Magdalene headed into darkness not to spend a conjugal night in bed but to travel fast to catch their plane taking off from Lagos later that morning. Their minds were focused on where they were going and the new life as husband and wife they were going to live in God’s own country.

  No member of the Church of the New
Dawn, including Elder James Ogbe, knew where they had emigrated that night. Magdalene had told her husband that she was going for a retreat in Lagos and would be away for a week. He did not ask her any questions about her travels for religious events, including this one for which she had filled a big trunk with clothes, shoes, and jewelry.

  To the congregation of the Church of the New Dawn, Evangelist Peter and Magdalene might as well have died or gone to heaven. Or hell, if members of the church knew what had really transpired between them in the many years they had been under the pastoral leadership of Evangelist Peter! As for Magdalene, the women would say, “She was looking for more than conception or a baby from God under cover of prayers—a new and virile man!”

  IFEOMA OKOYE

  Ifeoma Okoye earned a BA in English at the University of Nigeria, Nsukka, and an MSC in Teaching English for Specific Purposes at Aston University in Birmingham, England. She has authored numerous well-known children’s books beginning with The Village Boy (1978), which won the Macmillan Children’s Literature Prize. Among her other children’s books are The Adventures of Tulu the Monkey (1980), Only Bread for Eze (1980), No School for Eze (1980), Neka Goes to Market (1995), Ayo and His Pencil (1995), and Chika’s House (1995). Among her adult novels are Behind the Clouds (1983), Men Without Ears (1984), which won the Association of Nigerian Authors’ Best Fiction of the Year Award, Chimere (1992), and No Where to Hide (2000). Many of her stories are collected in The Trial and Other Stories (2005). She was married to the late civil rights activist Mokwugo Okoye and has five children.

  The Power of a Plate of Rice

  (1999)

  I walked hurriedly to Mr. Aziza’s office, breathing heavily in steadily rising anger. The January sun was blazing in fury, taking undue advantage of the temporary withdrawal of the seasonal harmattan. As I arrived at the office which was at the end of the administration block, I remembered one of my mother’s precepts: “Do nothing in anger. Wait till your anger melts like thick palm oil placed under the sun.” Mother was a philosopher of sorts. Poor woman. She died before I could reward her for all the sacrifices she made on my behalf, forgoing many comforts just so that I could get some education, and for carrying the financial burden of the family during my father’s protracted illness and even after his premature death. In deference to Mother, I stood by Mr. Aziza’s door for a few seconds, trying to stifle my anger, but failing woefully. Only an angel or an idiot would remain calm in my situation.