Episode 1

From the roadside, I heard the baritone voice of Pastor Josiah Obazu as he led the congregation on some prayer points. I paid off the commercial motorcyclist who had just dropped me off and, after a quick glance at my belt, wristwatch and sparkling shoes, marched confidently to the church. I was accosted by an usher at the entrance. She was dressed in a red long-sleeved shirt which was firmly tucked in a white skirt. With a white tie around her neck and high heeled red shoes which illustrated her firm calves, she was every inch smart looking.
‘You are welcome, sir,’ she said in a sweet voice, flashing me a smile. ‘Please, follow me.’
‘Thank you, ma’am,’ I replied and followed like a sheep to the slaughter.
She led me to a seat in the front row, a row I had never sat in before. I didn’t argue with her; it was actually a vantage position for my plans. I sat down, closed my eyes, bowed my head and muttered some gibberish – feigning prayers. I opened my eyes and made sure to wear a big smile for effect as I sat up to see a lady from the choir go to the space between the congregation and the altar. She was holding a red capped microphone which she lifted to her lips with her left hand while raising the right above her head. She was dressed, like every other female member of the choir, in a black top and skirt with a gold coloured tie to match. The male choristers were in black suits with gold coloured shirts inside. They wore no ties. From my position, I could feel their egos emitting forth.
The lady shut her eyes and made a face like one about to purge. The pianist was already playing an intro and the drummer beating an accompaniment when she broke into a song.
That is why you are called Jehovah…
That is why you are called Jehovah…
What you say you will do…
I slyly smiled as I watched the congregation join her – some swaying like palm trees left at the mercy of the wind. The drama seemed funny to me – I, who hadn’t been in any church for about ten years. So why the change of heart?
Magdalene Okegbu was the reason. I had known her from the time we were kids, though I was a year older than her. Then, she was part of the neighbourhood playgroup of kids rolling on the sand, kicking at objects and playing hide and seek in the uncompleted buildings in our surroundings. She was one of the first kids to break away from the group. I was about nine years then. Suddenly, it became rare to see her outdoors. The few times I saw her was when she was on her way to school or the church or in the company of her parents or elder brother who was then in the university. She also assumed a kind of cockiness which made me dislike her. And she had also grown taller than me! Then, she was sent to a boarding school and I forgot about her.
Shortly afterwards, my dad completed his house in another part of the city and we parked out of the area. Though I still visited some of my old friends in that area after our exit, I never saw her again until I gained admission into the university.
Mandiba University was a school where students took pride in the extent of their sociability, which was mostly in the extreme. I had stopped church many years back when some family problems made my mum start a new church, leaving my dad in the old Orthodox Church we had always attended. That separation gave the kids the opportunity to make choices and my choice was to stop attending church altogether. In the place of church activities, I participated heavily in social activities and this lifestyle was only lent wings when I gained admission. Within a year of my entry into the higher institution, I had already joined a string of social clubs. Hardly did two weekends go by without my being involved in a bash; it showed in my grades – I was barely managing to get by. I didn’t give too much thought to it; I hoped to sit up in my third year.
I was travelling home from school two weeks back when I felt a tap on my shoulder. I turned around to behold a faintly familiar female face. Her face curved into a shy smile.
‘Good afternoon, bro.’ She greeted after a moment’s hesitation.
‘Good afternoon, baby,’ I replied, wondering where I had met her before. She was beautiful, I noticed that instant. I had become an expert in assessing women; it took me only a few seconds to know whether a lady was worth my attention or not. I was about to ask where we had met before when she spoke.
‘Do you remember this face?’

I smiled and shook my head in the negative. ‘Though I know I’ve seen it somewhere before. Can you help me out?’ I was having two minds between saying the truth and lying, but opted for the former.
She frowned slightly, almost confirming my reasons for wanting to lie to her: some people were usually turned off when you confessed to not knowing them. Then she smiled, ‘Do you remember the name, Magdalene Okegbu?’
The name struck a cord, but it took another five seconds to register. So the little girl had grown so big…and so beautiful, I thought, joining in the smile. I had been straining my neck to converse with her on the back seat, but didn’t actually feel the pain. Not yet.
‘Oh! Don’t tell me that that little girl is the one I’m beholding,’ I exclaimed, unmindful of other passengers, some of which were obviously eavesdropping on our conversation.
‘Who is a little girl,’ she playfully protested, making a face.
‘You, ma’am,’ I affirmed. ‘Thou, of course.’
She smiled coyly; ‘And that small boy is now quite grown up,’ she replied.
‘I take that as a compliment,’ I said as we both burst out laughing.
It was then I tried to straighten my neck and was greeted by a very sharp pain. I gnashed my teeth as I inaudibly bore the pain. I had enjoyed the conversation thus far and still wanted more, despite the price my neck was paying. Luckily for me, just that moment, the man beside me asked the driver to stop, that he was getting off there. Magdalene quickly took his place, by my side.
She was a new student and had been offered admission to study political science, she told me, and had only come to pay her admission fees. She was returning home to carry her belongings, having just secured a lodge that week.
‘That’s good,’ I told her. ‘You could have shared mine with me, though. I have a self-contained mini apartment to myself.’ I stared at her, awaiting her response.
‘Wow, that’s quite impressive,’ she replied, ‘but I can’t even imagine it.’
‘Imagine what?’ I asked, but she demurred, shrugging her shoulders.
‘Please, I have a problem,’ she said next, suddenly changing the topic. ‘I visited one fellowship last Sunday, but their mode of worship was too drab for my comfort.’
‘Okay,’ I growled. If she needed any help concerning campus fellowships, she was onto the wrong person.

Which of the campus fellowships do you think is the best?’ She asked.
I shook my head slowly. ‘None.’
She stared at my face as if to ascertain whether the statement had emanated from me. I frowned in response.
‘Did you just say none?’ She inquired.
‘Yea, Magdalene. The thing is I haven’t attended any so far.’
‘Oh, so you don’t do campus fellowships? I was told the churches are even worse, with their services tailored towards meeting the needs of the elderly.’
‘Magdalene, I don’t do churches,’ I said gently but firmly, drawing another incredulous stare from her. I wondered why she was staring at me like that, but didn’t ask. She wasn’t done yet.
‘But your parents used to attend the Orthodox Church those days, right?’
‘Yea and they still do – at least my dad does,’ I replied, bored of the topic. ‘So, how has life been all these years?’ I gave her an appreciative look.
‘What are you looking at?’ She asked, looking away shyly.
‘At you, of course,’ I replied, maintaining the stare. Twice she tried to stare back, but always ended up looking away.
‘You are discomfiting me,’ she stated, finally returning my stare. ‘Your eyes are kinda scary.’
‘If you think so,’ I growled, pretended to take offence and looked away. My eyes went to the speedometer, only to discover that it wasn’t working. After that, I tried to read the signboards in the little town we had just entered. Most of them were homemade, poorly shaped letterings, probably drawn with fingers dipped in paint. Some even had the paint overlapping and trailing down to the letterings below, making a mess of everything. I hated slapdashness, and it was written all over the town. I was about to make a remark to that effect when I remembered that I was supposed to be annoyed. I swallowed my words and hummed a tune. Five minutes later, Magdalene was yet to say a word. I had expected her to be, at least, concerned about my silence, but her thoughts seemed to be on other things. I swallowed my pride and was about to break the silence when her phone rang.
‘Hello, good afternoon,’ she greeted the person at the other end. The caller was enquiring about her whereabouts, how the journey was and what time she hoped to get home. These I deduced from the replies she gave. From their tone, I knew it was a guy and I felt jealousy stir within me.
‘Who was that?’ I asked when they had ended their conversation.
‘A friend,’ she replied, smiling dreamily. ‘I met him during registrations – a very funny guy.’
‘Okay,’ I said and looked away. After some seconds, I turned to look at her and she was still wearing that faraway dreamy smile. ‘What’s getting you so excited, suddenly?’ I asked.

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