Dial episode 10

DIAL
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Sequence 10
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©Aaron Ansah-Agyeman
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I think it was around that time, when I had fled from my own car and I was sitting at the back of a taxi, that it dawned on me that I really didn’t have any good friends in the world.
My father had left me a lot of money, and I had increased that money tenfold. I was a wealthy young lad, and I could have any life I could. But I didn’t have friends. My father had not been a trusting man because of what the woman he had loved had done to him, and thus I also grew up not trusting human beings.
There were a few guys at the sports club, the nightclubs and a few other social places, who always came around me, because I was obviously a big spender when it came to some things, but none of them was really a close friend.
It dawned on me then that I was indeed living a pretty lonesome life.
It had never bothered me, no, but that particular morning it did. I had a lot of girls, but they were just bodies to me, objects that I used to slake a thirst, and I didn’t even know half of their names unless I checked from the Dial List or referred to the special folder on my phone labelled ETWES.
The women on the Dial List were the elite, those who gave me tough chases, exhilaration, and women of extreme physical beauties.
Those in my “Etwes” folder were simply girls I could call on for a quick tumble if the need arose. They were the girls I could sleep with for a night, or a weekend if I felt lonely, and who would take some money and melt away to their various lives.
They were the friends with benefits.
And so, as I sat in the back of the taxi and reflected on my life, it dawned on me that I could do with a good friend, someone I could recount what had happened to, someone who would stay with me and share my problems.
But there was no one like that; I was virtually alone, with my riches.
About an hour later the taxi stopped in front of the residence of Apostle Jacob Williams of the Pawa Yesu Fire Ministries.
The pastor was already waiting for me outside. He was of medium height and running to fat, his round belly forming a slight bulge inside the beautiful African print shirt he was wearing.
He had a bald patch from his forehead to the crown of his head, with a thick but nicely-trimmed patch of grey hair surrounding it. The man of God was wearing small gold-rimmed glasses perched precariously on his nose.
He came forward and gave me a long, warm hug.
“You’re in the house of the Lord, Mr. Yao Biko!” he said in a strong, high-pitched voice as he held my upper arms. “No evil, and I mean no evil, can stand against you! Be of good cheer, for the Lord has done it! Come inside, and let’s seek the face of the Lord!”
We entered his Mission House.
The interior was beautiful, a true indication that Apostle Jacob Williams was a blessed man. I followed him to his luxurious living-room where we sat down. He called his wife, an obese woman with the widest hips I had ever seen. She was called Matilda, a name I hadn’t heard in a long while.
She was all-smiles as she shook my hand. Matilda was wearing a long white gown with a huge, elaborate headgear. Her face was garishly made up, and I wondered idly if a pastor’s wife should have that much makeup.
The Apostle said a short prayer, and then he welcomed me.
He told me to tell him everything that had happened.
I was getting really scared now, and so I didn’t hold much back. I didn’t tell him about the Dial List, though. Simply, I told him how I met Akos, made love to her, and how she later seemed to commit suicide, and then how Nana Bosomba had been terrorizing me afterwards.
“Hm, hm, hmmm!” he said with a toss of his shoulders when I had finished speaking. “The devil is a liar, I say the devil is a liar! Do not despair, Mr. Biko! We’ll send fire prayers into the domain of that Bosomba and ransack his household! He will flee from his bed with the fire of Golgotha eating pancake from his head!”
He stood up and paced for a while, and then he stopped and looked at me with serious eyes.
“First, though, we’ll need that pot and the envelope to pray over, Mr. Biko!” he said calmly. “Give me your car keys! I’ll let your car be brought here so that we take that demonic pot and break it with the stripes of Jeeeeesus Chriiiiist!”
I handed over my keys.
It took about an hour for the messenger to bring my car.
However, the pot wasn’t in the car, and I wasn’t much surprised.
The Apostle then sent a servant to call the prayer warriors, and eventually three men and two women who were neatly-dressed came into the living-room.
“Mr. Yao Biko is our guest,” Apostle Williams informed them. “A disgruntled and wicked fetish priest has cursed him, but we’re going to show him that no curse from Hades shall stand against the Chosen Ones!”
“Aaaaamen!” the Prayer Warriors said in unison.
He informed me that I would need to spend the rest of the week in his Manse, and asked if I could spare the time. I said yes, because I was willing to do anything to send Nana Bosomba packing out of my life.
“Mr. Biko, this is a serious occultist attack from the realms of the astral levels of demonic powers!” the Apostle said whilst shaking his head in a peculiar way. “The Holy Spirit has directed me to take ten thousand cedis from you, Mr. Biko. You’re supposed to fast for two weeks and pray continuously during that time!”
“Oh, I’ve never fasted and prayed!” I cried in alarm. “I’ve never believed that anyway!”
“Yes, Mr. Biko, and that’s why the Prayer Warriors are here to help you! They’ll fast and pray for you, but you need to make a small donation of ten thousand Ghana Cedis so that they can be motivated to pray for you.”
“No problem,” I said.
And indeed it was no problem. It was just peanuts to me.
And so I paid up by using an app on my phone to transfer the funds into the Apostle’s account. I would have paid ten times the amount if he had asked, because I was that desperate.
He smiled at me with all his teeth showing when the transfer went through.
“Now, Mr. Biko, you can have a sound sleep, and we’ll take care of this fetish man for you,” he said pleasantly. “One of our guest rooms has been made ready for you, sir. Now you can go in there and relax, and we’ll go and begin our fire, volcanic and earthquake-shattering prayers!”
He called a maidservant to take me to my room.
I was feeling really relieved now, and I followed the lady through a series of corridors until she stopped in front of a door. She pushed down the handle of the door and pushed it open. She took one step into the room, and then she came to an abrupt stop and her hands flew to her breasts.
I was behind her, and I saw her body shivering suddenly.
“What is it, lady?” I asked as I stood just behind her in the doorway.
She pointed a shaky finger at the bed.
It was a huge room, and it was very pleasant and neat.
It had a big bed with clean sheets, televisions set, a small fridge that was well-stocked, no doubt. A writing desk, and a wardrobe.
And there, sitting on the bed smugly, was the white clay pot with the envelope in it.
The lady turned, and the horror on her face was frightening. She pushed past me and began to scream as she ran away. I leaned against the door frame and looked at the pot. I wasn’t really scared, no. Somehow I was now getting used to the sight of it.
Presently, I heard movement behind me, and then Apostle Williams and his five prayer warriors filed into the room, and like the woman they came to abrupt halts at the sight of the white clay pot.
Apostle Williams turned to me, and there was the sheen of perspiration on his face.
“Is that the pot and the envelope you were talking about, Mr. Biko?” he asked in a voice that was quite unsteady.
“Yes, Apostle, it is,” I replied calmly.
“Mr. Biko, is that the pot you told me about?” he asked me again.
I looked at him and raised my eyebrows.
“I just confirmed it, Apostle, didn’t I?”
“Now don’t be cheeky with me, young man!” he exploded, and his voice was very unpleasant now. “I just wanted a confirmation from you. Is this the pot you were talking about?”
I almost chuckled, but I restrained myself.
“That’s Nana Bosomba’s pot alright, Apostle,” I said calmly, aware that the apostle of God was flustered.
“Good, well, erm…the devil is a liiiiiiiiiar!” he said, but his voice had dropped many decibels from its previous vociferous levels. “Wait in the living-room, Mr. Biko! We shall deal with this! The Lord will reign supreme, and you’ll be set free!”
So I made my way back to the living-room.
I tried to read some Christian magazines, but I got bored after a while and dozed off.
I came awake as I heard shrill screams, and I bolted up on my feet.
Mrs. Williams was trying to run toward a door, her massive frame rolling like the waves of the sea, but I just stood still and waited.
Presently Apostle Williams came into the living-room, and behind him were his prayer warriors. The two women literally blasted out of the room, their faces contorted with horror as they fled.
Two of the men were however holding up the third man.
The sight of the third man made me gape with sudden horror!
His hair, which had been very black, was now looking pure white!
Even his eyebrows and moustache were all looking absolutely white!
His legs were folded upward, and he obviously could not walk!
He had aged horribly within the twinkle of an eye!
“Take me to hospital,” he kept saying as his two friends helped him up. “Please take me to hospital now.”
And his voice was unsteady and shaky like an old man!
“My goodness!” I whispered with apparent horror. “What happened to him?”
Apostle Williams grinned, but I noticed that the grin just stretched his mouth. His eyes were filled with unpleasant fear.
“Hah, Mr. Biko, you see what I told you?” he said and shook his head. “Disciple Darko touched the pot at a time he shouldn’t have touched the pot, and he fell down and now look at him! That’s the kind of battle we face! But the devil is a liar!”
“Apostle, take me to the hospital!” Disciple Darko screamed suddenly. “Take me to hospital now!”
Apostle Williams smiled sickly again, and for a moment it seemed he didn’t know what to say, and then he shrugged and pointed to the door.
“Please send him to the prayer room, Elders,” he said. “Let him sleep.”
“I don’t want to sleep, Apostle!” Elder Darko cried, and now tears fell down his wrinkled cheeks. “I don’t want to sleep! Take me to the hospital! Take me to the hospital!”
The Apostle looked at him angrily, and then he shrugged.
“Alright, Elders!” he said. “Call one of the drivers and use the minibus. Send him to the clinic down the street!”
“No clinic!” Elder Darko disagreed as they carried him out of the room. “The big hospital. I won’t go to the clinic! Take me to the hospital now!”
I looked at him, and then I turned a horrified face to the Apostle.
“What now, sir?” I asked softly as I fought down my horror.
“Well, this thing is more serious than I thought,” he said quietly. “I called one of my enlightened friends, and he said I should bring you over. He’s more enlightened in the dark arts, and together the two of us will deal with this evil incarnate! Come with me, Mr. Biko! This trouble will be solved for you in a jiffy! The devil is a liar!”
So that was how I came to sit in the huge, beautiful Mercedes Benz of Apostle Williams.
We sat in the back and his driver ferried us around town.
Once again I dozed off, maybe from sheer exhaustion and repressed fear.
When the car finally stopped, and we got out, it dawned on me with the force of a mule’s kick that we had arrived on the premises of the Bare Light International Church!
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To be continued