Just do it √

Twenty Three

I missed Alade.

If I had been in his house I wouldn’t have to go through Kunle’s version of a low-key Easter vigil. We had been praying for over an hour. He and my mom were doing most of the praying while Marcel and I knelt there and provided reluctant ‘amens’ when required.

‘Father, on this night of your resurrection we pray that all our blessings and breakthroughs rise with you in Jesus name!’

‘Amen’.

‘We pray for our country Nigeria, this country of bokoharam and dead leaders. Good for nothing country of bribery, wickedness and magu-magu. Father deliver us, deliver us because we cannot deliver ourselves. Deliver us from friendly enemies, deliver us from overweight politicians in million dollar agbadas’.

‘Amen!’ mom boomed and I readjusted my aching knees.
‘And amen’. Kunle intersected
‘Amen’. We all said conclusively.
‘Honey, lead us in praises’. He rose and we followed suit.
‘Hallelujah?’
‘Amen’.

‘Come on people. Christ has risen from the dead, this miracle deserves more than that lazy amen so; hallelujah!!!’
My mom’s vigorous prayers amazed me but I was more concerned about sleeping neighbors.
‘Amen!’ We responded.

‘Receive our praise oh Lord!’ she began croaking. ‘Receive our praise oh Lord, glory and honor we give unto you, receive our praise oh Lord. Father receive it…’
The rest of us joined in but after the second stanza, it was obvious we weren’t winning any prizes with our rendition, still our parents made us continue in the suicide mission.

We howled for the next ten minutes before mom signaled for us to stop but she wasn’t done.
‘Let’s hold hands’.
Marcel remained where he stood with his arms loosely crossed around his chest until our parents cast gleaming eyes at him. He reluctantly grabbed my right hand and my mom’s left one. I felt his pain but I knew the fastest way out was trough cooperation.

‘Almighty King of kings, ancients of days, omeka nnaya, osimiri ya atata, agun echemba, lion of the tribe of Judah. Oh Chineke dalu’m!’
I could see Marcel’s right arm shaking as my mom shook in prayers.

‘Heavenly Father, I cannot thank you enough for you have been good to me. From the clothes on our backs, the food in our stomach, the roof over our heads even to the very air we breathe, I say thank you Lord. I want to thank you in a special way for all of us present in this living room, gathered as a family. God, it was your decree that brought us together’.

Marcel let out a huge yawn and in a few seconds I was giving off one of my own.
Over time, I lost track of the words that were said, petitions made and songs sang. I kept swaying from side to side until I felt a prick on my palm and turned sharply to Marcel.

‘Did you just pinch me?’ I whispered
‘Don’t fall asleep browny. Don’t let the devil use you’. He whispered back, looking smug.
I wanted to tell him he was the one being used by the devil to distract me during prayers but that conversation wouldn’t go unnoticed by the adults engrossed in spirituality.

By the time we concluded the vigil, my limbs were itchy and rubbery. I took a well-deserved bath but it was already 5am and the sleep I needed had escaped me so I returned to the parlor, this time to watch TV.
Marcel joined a few minutes later, he had his legs propped on the center table when mom came and asked us to join her and Kunle for 6am Easter service at his church but we declined with the excuse of fatigue.

We heard them as they struggled to prepare, glad that we didn’t have to go through another round of eardrum bursting prayers.

‘Okay, we are leaving. You two are sure you don’t want to come to church with us?’ Mom asked while Kunle moved out to get the car.