Chapter 3: Power, Envy, and Pastor’s Shadow

Pastor spiritual battle last pass half month.

Some people dey say na because the matter heavy. Every three days, elders dey gather, dey break coconut, dey pour salt for vestry door.

Uncle Sani get lightning spirit.

For church, dem dey respect am. If thunder dey, e dey feel am for him body. E dey talk say e dey see vision for rain.

Big Sister Amaka tell am make e stay for vestry, dey observe the battle, and still dey look after my wounds.

She dey trust Uncle Sani to watch over me. Na only him dey strong enough to stand that kind spiritual heat.

E just sigh:

“Small Blessing, your wound dey heal sharp sharp.”

“Who really get lightning spirit between us? Abi na because you and Pastor both get same spirit, una get some secret wey I no know?”

“You go soon reach higher level just like that. No be blessing in disguise be this?”

E dey talk as if e dey joke, but e eye dey serious. E dey suspect say I get hidden power.

I just dey sweat.

Na true, my body dey heal quick, but no be because of spirit. Na Pastor anointing dey rush inside me. I dey pretend say I no understand.

E no get anything to do with spirit—na Pastor anointing strong like that.

If I close my eyes, I fit feel the power dey swim for my veins. Sometimes my hand dey vibrate for night.

Just one month,

I dey remember, last month I still dey crawl for prayer, dey beg God make I fit see vision. Now, power dey jump for my body.

The anointing wey Pastor leave for my body work wonders, make me jump from mid-level to almost top.

Big Sister Amaka dey fear, dey whisper say my star don bright overnight. Even some elders dey eye me with new respect.

If no be say I injure myself before, I for don reach higher level sharp sharp, for scare Uncle Sani die.

I dey limit myself, dey act weak, so people no go suspect. If I show full power, dem go know say something dey.

I just do like say I get secret:

I cross my leg, dey look Uncle Sani, smile small, act like say I dey hide one big gist.

“Uncle, na Pastor tell me make I work hard.”

“You sef suppose check yourself—maybe na you no dey serious, just dey play too much?”

I dey tease am, but my heart dey jump. I dey hope say e go shift eye from me.

Uncle Sani just eye me:

E hiss, roll him eyes. E dey act like person wey no get time for childish joke.

“Na me play pass you?”

“Redeemed Assembly no even fit contain you. Na only to dey run enter Pastor office remain.”

E dey refer to how I always dey around Pastor, dey ask questions, dey help arrange books, dey clean altar.

Uncle Sani join just three years before me, na him be the most talented among us.

People dey call am thunder boy. Even other branches dey invite am for program.

E don dey stuck for same level for years, after just twenty years of service.

E dey always complain say e need breakthrough. People dey encourage am, but power no gree move pass ceiling.

See as my grace dey catch up, e just dey vex:

“To talk true, I dey suspect say Pastor give you special treatment for vestry.”

As e talk am, e voice low, but I hear am clear. My heart beat quick. Sweat dey gather for my forehead.

My heart just jump.

I fit feel my spirit shake. Wetin I dey fear don nearly happen. I dey look door, dey pray say make nobody enter.

Wetin e dey talk dey near the truth—I wan just cover him mouth.

I dey fumble my wrapper, dey try change topic. I no wan make e continue.

As I dey do as if I dey suffer, with my wounds, Big Sister Amaka never even let me go back my room.

She say make I stay for vestry side, so she fit watch me well. She dey bring food, dey check my temperature.

Why?

I dey reason, maybe dem dey suspect say my wound no be ordinary. Maybe dem dey observe if I go confess.

No be because Pastor never come down from mountain, never talk say e go forgive me, nobody sure say I never lie?

Everybody dey wait for Pastor to pronounce judgement. For church, na Pastor word be law.

Big Sister Amaka dey sharp, na why she never let me go.

She dey see far. She sabi say if I dey alone, fit do something rash, or talk wetin no suppose leak.

If Big Sister Amaka or Pastor hear wetin Uncle Sani dey talk, no be finish be that?

If dem suspect say I get special access, dem go begin monitor me like person wey carry contraband.

I just vex for am, scold am:

My eye sharp, I dey try show say e dey wrong. I dey rub my wound, act like person wey no get strength for this kind talk.

“Uncle, I really no believe say na you.”

“How you go talk say Pastor dey partial? E dey treat all of us the same.”

“Teaching, gift, prayer, guidance—Pastor ever deny you?”

“I gree, Pastor dey pamper me small, but no be because e pity my background?”

“Na you dey petty, na why you dey think say e dey favour me.”

As I dey talk, Uncle Sani just open mouth, him face dey red.

E look ground, e shuffle foot. I dey see say my talk pain am. E no expect me to snap back like that.

Pastor reputation clear everywhere.

People dey call am Elijah of our generation. Even radio station dey play him sermon every Sunday.

Even choir members go dey happy for days if e just talk to dem once.

Sister Rachael dey tell everybody say Pastor greet her for corridor, na why her business dey boom.

Even head usher no dey enjoy reach us, the direct mentees.

Dem dey envy us small. We dey get special retreat, dey chop better food during fasting.

E dey guide us for ministry, keep us for him side.

If we get program, na we dey lead prayer. If visitors come, na we dey stand beside Pastor.

As long as e no dey secluded, we fit go main office disturb am.

Even if na midnight, once we knock, Pastor dey answer.

As I dey talk, tears just dey flow.

I dey try show say I dey innocent, make e pity me. I let tears soak my wrapper.

This kind good Pastor, upright and pure, always dey for him mentees.

E dey pray for us, dey fast for our sake. If you sick, e go visit. If you broke, e go give small money. Everybody dey look up to am.

From today, me and am go just dey like stranger…see as e wan finish me now.

My heart dey heavy. I dey miss the old days, but I dey fear for my life.

I cry with all my heart:

My voice dey rise, I no even care if people hear. Sometimes, to survive, you must show say you be victim.

“Pastor…good like this, how you fit talk that kind thing?”

I dey talk to myself, but I dey hope say Uncle Sani go believe say I dey pure.

Pastor perfect, but I no fit enjoy am.

Because I wan live.

I dey beg God say make shame no kill me before punishment land.

I hug my knees, dey cry more, heart just dey break.

My cry dey mix with prayer. I dey beg say make God show mercy, make my matter no end for news.

And I dey fear.

I dey shake, my teeth dey chatter. My skin cold, but sweat still dey my back.

Pastor anointing still full my body, I no fit comot am, I no fit use am finish.

If I try release am, people go notice. If I hide am, my body go dey burn.

I no even know wetin to do.

I dey turn for mat, dey look ceiling. I dey pray say make God give me wisdom, make I no fumble.

That anointing thick, no dey melt; who know how much grace e go give me.

I dey suspect say my star fit shine pass everybody for church, but I no want make people see am now.

If everybody begin think like Uncle Sani, e go hard make dem no suspect say something happen between me and Pastor…

If talk start to spread, even the elders go begin call meeting. I dey fear make my story no end for market women gist.

If Pastor begin suspect, come force check my purity, everywhere go burst.

Na only God go fit save me if e decide to do that kind thing.

Uncle Sani just dey panic, think say na him make me cry:

E dey wave hand, dey beg. E try touch my shoulder, but I dodge small.

“Small Blessing, abeg no cry.”

“I no mean am. I respect Pastor like you. I no go talk am again.”

“Abeg, no vex.”

E dey scratch head, dey worry like monkey.

E dey shift leg, dey look window, like person wey wan jump run. E dey fear say Big Sister Amaka go hear.

The more I think, the more I feel pain. For that vestry matter, I really suffer.

My head dey hot. I dey remember every detail, every shame. I dey feel like person wey carry heavy stone for back.

Even though my purity no even reach one ten-thousandth of Pastor own, for anointed man of God, na just like food—once e chop am, e don finish.

Some people dey say once you touch holy thing, e no dey return. For our side, na serious wahala.

But e still be my purity.

My own na my own, no matter how small. I dey mourn am like lost child.

Uncle Sani look my back, fear catch am, e begin talk fast:

E voice dey shake. E dey sweat for face. E look like goat wey see knife.

“P-Pastor…”

“I no bully Small Blessing o. Na just play I dey play with am, she just begin cry.”

My body freeze small. I no even notice say thundercloud for sky don dey scatter.

As I dey try clean my eye, I hear door open. The whole room cold. My heart miss one beat.

Pastor, I no know when, don stand behind me.

E just appear, like say e float enter room. I dey smell fresh anointing oil and faint scent of burnt cloth.

My ear dey ring, my heart dey jump. Even the cock outside quiet, as if e dey wait for judgement.

I turn small, look up, see Pastor just stand for door, no talk.

E tall, shadow long for floor. E eye deep, black like tar. E dey watch me, no blink.

Like ghost…

Nobody dey talk. Even my breath dey loud. The room cold, but my armpit dey sweat. I dey wish ground go open, swallow me.

The bottom of him white robe burn small, him long hair scatter—na me and the thunder do am like that.

I dey remember how thunder flash, how my hand grab am by mistake. Now, him robe dirty, hair dey tangle. E look like warrior wey come back from battle.

As e dey look me with him dark eyes, cold just catch me.

Na so cold enter my bone. My teeth dey knock. My whole body dey shiver as if harmattan enter vestry.

“P-Pastor…”

I try talk, but my voice no strong. I dey stammer like person wey drink ice water for morning.

Fear just hold me.

I dey feel say my sin dey expose for my face. My mind dey shout, my heart dey beat like talking drum.

How long e don dey here?

I dey calculate. Maybe e hear everything. Maybe e see my tears, hear Uncle Sani talk. Wahala fit don double.

How much of Uncle Sani talk e hear? E go take am serious? E wan check me?

I dey pray say make mercy enter Pastor heart. I dey hope say e no go ask too many question.

Wahala, my body just dey push me to run.

Leg dey shake, hand dey weak. My spirit dey shout, "Run!" But my body dey betray me. I no fit move.

But how I wan take run? Pastor fit catch me with just one hand.

For church, na only Pastor get that kain speed. If I try run, e go grab me, e go hard for me to explain. I dey trapped like rat for cage, and Pastor eye dey shine like say e fit see inside my soul. If I move, wahala fit burst.