Yimu

I was born into a family of staunch orthodox Christians and was virtually raised in the church premises. Certain things were not a surprise to me even though my friends at school thought it was a weird way to live.

We had a family pew in church on which we sat every Sunday, we waited long hours after service while our parents wasted our precious Sunday afternoons in pointless meetings - at least they were to me, we did harvests/anniversaries almost every Sunday and we were forced to go to church every Saturday evening for one practice or the other. Many other things happened, things I cannot speak of.

I had always hated Church because I thought it was the most boring place to be. Keeping vigil with my PlayStation was more appealing to me than a spirit-filled Sunday with the Lord, after all I wasn’t the one who killed Jesus. Nevertheless, my parents would have none of it so I had to be in church at least twice a week.

Let me share an experience with you, an experience I would never forget. I had just returned from Fantasy Land (it is a place where kids play arcade games and have fun, a kind of theme park), in my hand was a small white nylon branded Mr. Biggs. I was so famished that consuming a whole cow would have been nothing to me.

The bag contained a sausage roll, a meat pie and a can of Fanta. Immediately the driver dropped me at the church premises, I walked briskly to a quiet spot to consume my goodies, alone without any undue interference from green-eyed monsters. Footsteps approached momentarily as I began the activity.

A few seconds later, Mrs Doherty aka Iya Ijo was by my side smiling sheepishly as she peered into my nylon. After greeting her like I was supposed to, she wouldn't take her leave therefore creating an awkward situation. "Come and eat ma", I said. Where I come from, it is regarded as courtesy to invite someone to join in a meal. I secretly hoped that she would politely decline and giddy-up, I hoped amiss.

Iya Ijo's face lightened as she shockingly joined me in my meal. She sat until the end, cutting a half of my sausage and two-third of my meat pie. She shamelessly drank my Fanta too and got up immediately after the proceedings were over. I watched her leave with near bloodshot eyes and my heart silently cursed her.

I vowed never to invite anybody to a meal if I didn't really want them to eat with me. My stomach kept churning loudly demanding for more food. Never again did I say anything I didn't really mean.

A bitter lesson was learnt, a lesson I would never forget.

"Manner are the hypocrisy of a nation" - Honore de Balzac