Running Away Solves Everything

Tomilola

I literally did meeni meeni maini mo before I chose the kind of church I’d attend and from today’s sermon, I’m sure God was speaking to me. The theme is Acknowledging the Faithful Departed but the preacher, who I adore already was more keen on Faithful than departed. She defined Faith in no way, I’ve heard before.

“Faith is knowing the truth. Not needing someone else to give you one.” She also gave a biblical reference to Hebrews 1:1, defining Faith as the substance of things hoped for and the evidence of things not seen. I know she was not preaching but also teaching, because she defined Acknowledgement, Faith and Departed and allowing the congregation to join it together before giving her simplification. “Allowing the truth that your loved one has taken a well-deserved rest to remain a truth.” No ones words have made me this perturbed and satisfied at the same time, so I made up my mind to have a talk with her after church and I did.

She was on the robust side, tall and she had a permanent smile on her face after church. I just walked up to her and shook her, “Ma. Your sermon saved me.”

“It wasn’t my sermon then. It was yours. I thank God for your life.” She says this holding my hands and I allow her to get back to other people that wanted to greet her, but I can’t help admiring that stance of hers as I walk away. I pray to meet a woman like her everyday; physically, spiritually, academically, mentally and from her outburst of fashion, financially sound.

My plan was to stay in church for ten minutes, but during the intercessory prayers and sermon, the entrances were closed and I couldn’t. Now, I find myself still in this church waiting, because Mummy said she didn’t want to see me in the hospital, as that will make her cry.

I don’t know anyone, so I walk over to what is familiar to me—the piano—but as I reach there, I see a boy leaning over on it doing what I don’t know. Well, pretending like he can play and I laugh. “You can play Mary Had a Little Lamb at least.” His laugh is like a child’s giggle as he moves to the right of the bench, so I can sit, but he doesn’t stop looking at my fingers. I wonder why, but that’s far better than staring at my breasts.

I look at him once more before I close my eyes and remember Dad touching my hands, playing Mary Had a Little Lamb. I play that too and that puts me in the mood. I ask the young man, “Do you know Sia?”

“Yeah.” It’s quiet and unsure, but when he says, “Chandelier Sia?” I know he knows who Sia is.

Its either I enquire, “Can you sing it?” or “Should I start with that?” but I ask both and I don’t even allow him to answer before I start.
“Baby I don’t need dollar bills to have fun tonight, I don’t need no… As long as I can keep dancing,” I start with the chorus of Cheap Thrills instead and slide into the Chorus of Chandelier and he actually follows up with the singing and even when I go high, he does too, but parts it, giving it such a harmony. “I’m gonna swing from a Chandelier, from a Chandelier, from a chandelier.” I’m impressed.

I don’t know who is ever trained to do anything halfway, but that is not in my blood, so I don’t.

“You probably don’t know this one. Helium.” I say to him then I start from the beginning on to the chorus, and though I didn’t show it, I was surprised when he sang along. “Your love lifts me up like Helium. Your love lifts me up when I’m down, down, down. When I hit the ground, you’re all I nee-eed.” I play the C sharp twice, so I can continue with the Reaper chorus on a good note and although it would have sounded wrong on anyone else, I pull it off and the awe in his eyes clap for me. “Oh Reaper!”

When I’m done gloating, he wants to clap but I don’t let him. “Can you teach me?” he asks and that sentence alone weakens me, so I simply say sure, because I know that’s the last time he’d see me if I didn’t stray into his church. He says, “I love Justin Bieber too,” and my reply as I stand is that he’s okay.

He looks so disappointed by that so I sit back and say, “There are many male artistes that could have more promising voices than Justin Bieber. Ed Sheeran, Charlie Puth, Bruno Mars, Zayn, The Weeknd, Khalid. Even Mendez and our very own Johnny Drille.” He doesn’t burst into laughter until I mention Johnny Drille and although I was expecting that, I look stern.

“Mhmm… why the laugh? You don’t know what Drille is gonna drop next year.”

“And Justin Bieber likewise.”

“Whatever Justin Bieber drops will be what has already existed. Drille is uniqueness all the way.” Case closed, I won.

With my eyes pointing at an unexpectant woman with the belly of a stout-loving man, who just shuffled past us by the piano, I ask rhetorically,” Can’t she raise her legs even?” and I’m surprised at what I hear.

“You know she’s not pregnant? But she doesn’t still use mirror to make up.”

Then a younger girl pops her head in the conversation and I wonder where’s she’s been this whole time. “Is it Mrs. Bimbo?” She chortles like nothing I’ve ever heard before. “For once let her gown match her shoes and bag,” she sandwiches her hands together and lifts her head to the ceiling. “Lord, just once.” And that’s how I find myself smiling at three children and a baby in front of a piano in an Anglican Church. The things you get yourself into that you can’t explain how you got into them.

“Excuse me.” Two messages making my phone buzz distracts me from these children and I have to take out my phone and look at them. Mummy’s own says, I sent you 30k. Se ohun kan fun mi. Focus on your first class in Dentistry and don’t think of this hospital. Olorun wan ni isakoso. Se ohun kan fun mi meant she had one important message for me, but she delivered two. I don't crack a joke about that, but simply text back, Ese Màámi. Amin.

Nneka’s texts are actually three, and they mean the same thing. Where are you, Tomi. Tomi, how are you? TOMI, ANSWER ME?!!

I answer her; How was the party? I'll see you tomorrow morning. I still have something else to do, and that’s check up on Màámi and Rotimi in the hospital. Màámi's not too pleased to see me, but that changes when I tell her I went to church and I’ve been there all day. If I’ve never been too sure if I were a believer, for Màámi's sakes, I was. I am. I believe in Jesus!