WE ARE ABLE Episode 8 by SammyHoe
Rachael my aunty is a widow. Her children are in boarding school. She is a civil servant. She is a very hardworking and religious type. She seems very godly and I appreciate her lifestyle. I feel at home in her house more than in my father’s house.
Racheal is about five feet seven inches tall. Her natural
hair is what she has on her head but it looks very long
such that it makes me doubt that it is natural. My
mother’s natural hair hasn’t been as long as half of hers.
They cut often.
Rachael is only two years younger than my mother, yet
she is already a widow. Her husband died in a plane
crash some years back. They are wealthy. She is lucky
however that her husband is distant from family
members while he was alive, else they would have
sent her packing.
Rachael doesn’t play with church issue. She will never
skip church activities for anything. Her faith seems to
be very strong. She believes in moving mountain with
prayers. She loves to fill my head up with challenging
testimonies from the Bible. I wonder why I haven’t
witnessed any such testimony in our real life today.
“It’s faith,” she says. “People in our contemporary
world don’t have faith anymore. They are more hasty
than God.”
In one way or the other, I used to believe in God
anytime I am with her. The love and care she shows,
the warm accommodation–even the devil himself will
tend to repent of his sins after spending a week or two
with her, I think.
My aunty suddenly comes up with an idea. She says that
she has a very strong faith that my deafness and
dumbness will end before the end of that month June. I
doubt it.
“Rose, my faith is lifted,” she says. “Only believe, you
will speak and hear this month,” she assures me. As
usual, she will always have testimonies to back up her
claims. She is better off being a motivational speaker. I
wonder what she is doing in the civil service.
Rachael tells us that there is a Crusade coming up and
their general pastor will be coming all the way from
Abuja their headquarters.
“Rachael, the lame have walked, the blind have seen,
the sick have been healed. I am strongly sure this is
your time, Rose. The pastor doesn’t need to lay hands
on you before you receive your healing.”
“Are you sure aunty?” I ask in doubt.
“Yes! Will I ever lie to you?” she reassures me. I take
her by her word.
It is a holiday period for me already because I have
finished my common entrance examination without my
daddy’s support. She(Rachael) is even the one who
takes up all the responsibilities then.
The crusade will be a five-day crusade. An open air
crusade it is called. No canopy at all–we have to chase
rain away with our prayers. The first night it rained
heavily. We become wet from head to toes.
My aunty calls it showers of blessing.
“When Elijah was about to do exploit, it began with
showers of rain. Rose, this is the assurance that you
will get your divine touch,” she says. I believe her.
The second, third and fourth days passed without any
thing. I begin to doubt what aunty says. However,
people come out each day to share their testimonies.
Two blind people also came out to say that they were
blind but now they see. Even a deaf boy shares his
testimony.
Before the dawn of the fifth day, my aunty prays for me
personally. She cast out the spirit of deafness and
dumbness but nothing happens. That spirit inside my
mouth and ears must be too stubborn for remaining
there, going by how my aunty was shouting vigorously
(I know she was shouting going by the look of her face
as she opened her mouth).
On the fifth day, the embarrassment becomes so
pronounced, not only on me but on my aunty too when
nothing happens to me. She weeps bitterly.
“Why? God why?” she weeps.
“God hates me,” I say.
“Don’t say so!”
“Or there is no God!”
“Hey! Rose, don’t go there!” my mother reprimands me
at once.
That night, I slept and had a nightmare…
My Nightmare
In my dream, I saw a woman sitting beside a native
doctor. They were speaking, but I didn’t hear what they
were saying since I was deaf and dumb. They were
looking inside a small calabash filled with water. I saw
my image in that calabash. They bent over the calabash
and going by the look of their mouths, they were
shouting something. They kept shouting and shouting
inside the water, but nothing happened.
I wake from sleep. I tremble. I tell my mummy and my
aunty what I see.
“Praise the Lord, Rose!” my aunty shouts. “That woman
you see in your dream is your enemy. She has taken
your name to the herbalist and they are calling your
name to death. But since you can’t hear them, you didn’t
respond. If you have responded, Rose, that is the end.”
“Ah!” my mummy shouts.
Now I thank my star that I haven’t received the miracle
of speaking and hearing. If I have, then I would have
heard and replied the wicked people calling my name
and then I would have died.
“Thank you Jesus,” I say.
To be Continue
