Jenn - the story teller

Wind of Judgement 2

By Jenn Azu “We expect him to come around soon.” A male voice said. “His vitals are stable but we will keep him on ventilation until he comes out of coma.” “Thank you doctor.” Replied a familiar female voice. At first, the blurred images above me moved sluggishly like tall trees and my body felt too heavy when I tried to move. Where in the world was I and why are trees talking? I heard some footsteps and it seemed someone or people walked away. “You will be fine honey.” The female voice whispered close to my head and at the same time a soft hand caressed my arm. “You will walk out of this place on your own two feet.” I recognized the voice this time, it’s my wife’s. I have missed her. I wanted to scream and hold her but still could not move. I could not understand why my body would not obey my desire to move. I struggled awhile within and was about to give up when I heard her start to cry. Her cry did a solid blow to my heart. I could be all shades of evil but not heartless to my wife. I have always known she is one good thing, if not the only good choice, I ever made. How do I tell her I can hear her? I felt helpless. What happened to me anyway? “Honey you are crying!” She suddenly said with awe in her voice. “Oh my God! Those are tears running down your temple. That means you are awake. Hallelujah! Praise God.” She said pulling her hands away from me momentarily. I imagined she threw them up in the air in worship as typical of my very religious wife. I had adored every bit of this woman except her piousness. When I first met my wife, she had no particular religion, yet conservative. In fact, she first caught my attention because she was extremely beautiful but modest which was a rare combination among girls her age. However, I fell in love with her for her personality. She was innocent, shy, introspective and intelligent. It was two years after our marriage she started changing. Not that she deviated from her normal self. She just became deeply religious. “Dear, I enjoyed us more when you had no religion or made obeisance to no god like me.” I would complain. “Honey, every man worships a ‘god.’ People just don’t think of it that way but they do.” She would retort. “How do you mean?” “Some people worship money, some fame, and some others worship pleasures like appetite, sex, alcohol etcetera.” “Those things are normal to life, dear. They don’t make demands or have laws to abide by as your faith and God demands.” “And that is exactly why no one sees their idols as ‘gods’ but whatsoever reins control over a man is his god and they do make demands too.” “How? ” I wanted to understand her view point “Take money for example, to be rich, one has to dedicate time and resources and also understand the rules of building wealth and follow them tenaciously. In doing all of this, a man will be following the laws of money and striving to meet the demands of owning it.” Listening to my wife at moments like that make me a proud husband. Not for what she was trying to defend for that makes no sense to me but that she understood things like ‘rules to build wealth’ well enough to use it for her analogy. “There is nothing wrong in making money, dear. It answers to our needs.” “Money is not wrong in itself but when a person cheats or kills to get hold of it, it has become his or her god.” She would explain. At such point, I would shake my head and give up on the conversation because I may start to feel condemned by her responses if I pushed any further. I did not understand why someone would have so much reverence for an unseen God and believe so strongly in a book written about that God that they try to practice whatever is written in it regardless of how inconvenient it may be to them. One day, Michele had told me that her God does not approve of sex outside of marriage. Not that I approve of unfaithfulness for the married but I don’t see anything wrong with the young unmarried ones choosing to express their natural emotions. What? Are they supposed to repress their emotions until they are married? Such unintelligent and stupid set of laws to follow. it makes no sense. I’d shake my head that the thought. I still loved my wife but maintained my hatred and distance from her religion or any religion until I ran into trouble at work. At the time, I was only a junior inspector of police who managed a police unit. The adult son of a state governor was accused of crime and was kept in the custody of my unit until his trial. Unfortunately, My team was attacked on our way to court on the day of trial by a gang of armed men and the man got kidnapped. Not only was I afraid of losing my job, I was afraid for my life because top powerful people quickly got involved. I still clearly remember my distress that period. I was stripped of my uniform and sent home to await my fate while intense search continued for the missing person. “Honey, the boy will be found.” My wife blurted two days later while serving dinner. “How do you know? And he is not a boy.” I sneered “While I was praying this afternoon, the Lord impressed it on my heart that he will be found.” She insisted. “He will be found before the end of Thursday. His captors will cheat on themselves and one of them will spill the truth.” Needless to say it happened

Wind of Judgement 2 Read More »

After death…

I was at a funeral a couple of weeks ago and for reasons best known to the family of the deceased, they had an open casket viewing. The deceased passed from complications of colon cancer. Not only was the casket open, but attendees did not have to walk up to the casket to see the body lying in state. Anyone could see it from wherever they were seated in the room. I sat and just stared. It was a humbling sight. He was lying there looking peacefully asleep but no amount of noise in the room would awaken him. I knew he could hear nothing, not even the muffled cries of his beloved son. Absolutely nothing mattered to him anymore. That moment I plunge into deep thoughts; I thought deeply about man and death. The deceased was well known to me in his lifetime, so I was more moved to ponder the mortality of man. One more time, I came face to face with the fickleness of humanity which has since confronted me considering the coronavirus dilemma and the vast loss of life.  Some questions I pondered upon were what is death? Of course, I know it is when the living stops breathing or having life but what does a man experience at death? Why does it cause so much hurt and sadness among the living? Why do the living fear death? And above all, is death truly the end of existence?  I remember talking to a man several years ago and a question came up about faith. This elderly man looked me straight in the eyes and with all seriousness replied that he does not believe in anything therefore nothing can lay claim to his soul after death.  Most recently, I heard a young man say that when he dies, he has chosen to remain in his grave. While both speakers seem to acknowledge that existence does not end in death, they failed to consider the possibility of no longer having control over anything then, whether it is the choice of staying in the grave or ownership of the soul. Well, for anyone who does not believe in something or in a being whose existence transcends this earth and time, I have a feeling that an uncertainty will hang over them continually. If you (the reader) do know something of this sought, however, I hope you believe in it strongly enough to provide you the confidence you need to navigate the passage rite of death which is a necessary end. Personally, I believe in Jesus Christ. I believe He is powerful enough to take control of my soul after death and I also believe in His power so much that I will not wait for death to hand him control, so I did it now that I still have life and that has brought me PEACE. It is like insurance. And if after death, it turns out that there is no need for a soul saving savior, I would not have lost anything because I enjoyed peace through my faith in a Savior. I invite you to do similarly and also find peace. Jesus is always accepting. His booking is never full, and he will not turn anyone away.    Thanks for reading. See more here.  

After death… Read More »

Wind of Judgement

By Jenn Azu It was on a dark and lonely road like one of the bush paths in a rural village. I was lying there on my back struggling with this creature trying to strangle me. At a closer look, it has the shape of a man but faceless. It also has no legs and seemed to move with the wind but its strength is ten times that of an ordinary man. At first, it had chased me sore with a glittering sword in hand until I fell over. It pinned me down to the ground and was overpowering me when I remembered that my wife had once mentioned that a man in the bible fought with an angel and won. So, I tried to do a rollover maneuver and landed on the tiled floor of my room with a loud thud.  It had been a dream. I laid down there for a minute breathing heavily as I pondered over the dream. Ever since my last operation, it has been one terrible dream or the other. The man I have in custody is not an ordinary man, I knew, but my dreams are definitely telling me there’s something more.  “But why me?” I queried. “I am only carrying out instructions from the President.”    I tried to raise myself from the floor but felt an ache in my side which must have resulted from the impact of my fall. My bed is thirty inches high so I prayed silently not to have broken something. As I pulled myself up to sit on my bed, a cold mysterious air blew in my face and sent shivers up my spine. I looked straight at the window, it is shut. The air conditioner is also turned off. Where could that wind be coming from?  As I surveyed the room to determine the source of the cold air, I felt it again but this time as a light touch on my bare back. My heart went cold in my chest as it dawned on me that I was not alone. The curtains hanging over the window starts dancing to the move of the wind as if the window is open. The creature followed me to real life? I wondered in shock. I felt the strong presence of a being even though I saw no one.  “What do you want from me?” I cried. By this time half my body felt paralyzed. “I say who are you and what do you want from me?” There was silence.  The thoughts of my wife crossed my mind and I wished she was home. I quickly reached for her  bible on our bedside drawer and opened it to find anything that could help. I know very little about prayer, but I remember how my wife does it and will mimic her. I opened to  the book of Psalms and my eyes caught chapter two. “Why do the nations conspire and the peoples plot in vain? The kings of the earth rise up and the rulers band together     against the Lord and against his anointed…” “What?” My eyes widened at what I read. I hissed and was going to turn the pages for something more comforting when suddenly a voice invaded my thoughts. It is  unmistakably clear and certainly not my own.  “Continue!” The voice commanded and I did.  “The One enthroned in heaven laughs; the Lord scoffs at them. He rebukes them in his anger and terrifies them in his wrath.” I read aloud and stopped. “Please who are you and what do you want from me?” I cried. “Don’t kill me.” “How dare you touch the Lord’s anointed?” The voice said I could have feigned ignorance of what the voice referred to but that was not possible because at that instance I understood the question. “I am a police inspector sir. I am only doing the bidding of the President. Please don’t kill me.” “Like Your master, you are judged!” It said. My actions in the past months played before me in quick moving frames and for the first time I saw the evil I am.  I had been appointed to my position six months ago by my country’s President. It was for his selfish desire to carry out dark deeds and have his tracks covered. He fed off of my greed and ruthlessness. The moral decadence in the force tripled under my watch. There were extortions and careless killings by the police I ignored. Personally, I have oppressed and eliminated people who the President desired eliminated. Many were his political opponents or activists whose activism threatened his presidency.   Last month, a staunch political opponent of the president had been very outspoken about the incompetence of his leadership and rallied for impeachment. When I received the president’s call to take this opponent out, I arranged for his kidnap, did a quick job that included charing his remains. He was simply declared missing and has remained missing.   The man in my custody is a pastor. Him like others is outspoken. At first, it was difficult to track him down but rounding up his family smoked him out of hiding.  I was not afraid to lay hands on him because I thought he was like any other man.  “I am sorry. Please don’t kill me.” I cried. A soft hissing sound blew across the room and I felt life draining out of me. Suddenly, my phone rang. I pushed back on the prevailing weakness and picked the call to cry for help.  “The President is dead.” Said the voice at the other end and my heart failed. I simply gave in to the force pulling my life away and darkness took over. 

Wind of Judgement Read More »

The Fart (Comedy)

Note: It is partially written in pidgin English. By Jenn Azu The group was seated around the center table inside Chi Chi’ s food and dining. They had just finished a sumptuous meal when Ekene started feeling the urge again.  They should be heading out to their next class but his friends were still engrossed in the conversation about last night’s soccer. Ekene tossed in his seat a couple of times to ease the pain caused by his gassy stomach to no avail.  “That goal Reis missed messed me up, mehhhn.” Iyke said as he briefly flapped his hands over his head as if in distress “I beg leave that guy. Him just spoil show for everybody.” Justin retorted “If na me be coach I for bench am. Him no go see ball for another six months.”  Ekene turned his attention away from the conversation to the stereo installed in the corner of the room for blasting music.  The loudness of that music is enough to drown the sound of my fart. He thought and gently leaned over to raise his butt for a release. A few seconds later, he felt relieved. He leaned back comfortably into his chair and looked up to meet the horrified stare of his colleagues?  “What?” He queried  “Guy, why you go do that kind thing na?”  Justin snapped at him “What did I do?” Ekene said, trying to maintain a straight face “Which kind mess be that one for our presence na?” Marvelous asked angrily Ekene paused for a second wondering how his colleagues could have heard his fart over the loud music. Suddenly, he felt for his head and pulled away the stereo headset he’d been wearing over his ears.  Crap! The music was blasting in my ears alone.  He completely forgot he had those on.  “I’m sorry. Please don’t be offended. It’s the bea…” Ekene tried to explain but his friends ignored him. They started rising to leave. He shook his head self pity and rose to join them but made a mental note to pour away the peas he had prepared and eaten the previous night. 

The Fart (Comedy) Read More »

IS IT OVER?

Author: Jenn Azu We were all finally assembled by his bedside at the hospital. It was much work to get the entire family members Papi requested at his sickbed but through teamwork and some sacrifice on the part of a few of us, it was achieved. By this time, Papi looked very weak and in much pain. We had been told he could pass on anytime. Papi gently raised his right hand and held my youngest sister’s hand, Lola, as he spoke softly. She was his next favorite after his oldest girl, Adebisi. As Papi spoke to Lola, I could only pick up a few of his words mostly because I was suddenly feeling sick. A heaviness settled on me that I could not shake. Almost at the same time, I started feeling pressure at the back of my head and tightness in my chest. Yet, none of those feelings afflicted me like the thoughts in my head. Papi is our father who suddenly took ill a few months ago. Many resources have been poured into his health with the hope that he will recover but to no avail. Now, we are left with preparing ourselves for his death and everyone appear to be taking it well except me. Dad took turn with each one of us kids giving his blessings and advice. He started with Jide, our oldest brother and although, he went in order of our age as he addressed us, he spoke to me, his second oldest child, last. “Dan, take care of yourself and be strong for your mother. Always remember that I am leaving here to go stay with Christ until I can see you all again…” Dad took a break to gather his strength before continuing. “My son, if you decide to give Christ a chance in your life, be rest assured I will see you again or else goodbye.” He concluded with a weak smile before turning his attention away from me. At this, I felt weak as the pain in me worsened. I had had dad preach to me a million times but I couldn’t understand why his last words hit me so hard. “Goodbye?” I thought “Why would he say that to me?” A part of me wanted to brush my thoughts aside but I struggled greatly. “Common Dan! This is a dying man saying farewell. How else is he supposed to say it?” “Yeah, but he said goodnight to everyone else.” I continued to argue with myself. I noticed the kindness in his eyes and the gentleness on his face which radiated pure love when he spoke to Jide. “Good night Jide.” Papi had said to him. Jide rubbed dad’s arm almost tearful. They stared at each other lovingly and would have hugged but for the various tubbings connected to dad to sustain him. He showed similar tenderness towards everyone else too. I couldn’t take it anymore. I moved closer to his bedside and snatched his hand away from Lola’s grip before falling to my knees. Surprisingly, no one attempted to stop me. “Why would you say ‘Goodnight’ to everyone but say goodbye to me?” Why daddy? Tell me, Why?” I wept aloud. My heart aching from sorrow. Papi started to weep as well. “I shall see them again! I shall see the righteous again! But sin can never enter there! Sin can never never enter there” He said, with a loudness that somewhat shocked me. How is his frail voice suddenly gaining strength? But then, he started to cough and my mom pushed me aside to attend to him. Almost immediately, his nurse entered and tried to stabilize him while we looked on helplessly. I stood there watching fearfully, momentarily forgetting my pain but feeling overcome with guilt. The nurse managed to get him to stop coughing and advised that no one bother him any further till he can get some sleep. Like the banging of our church bell, the pain in my head returned, this time worse. I could not bring myself to talk to anybody about my pain. I felt it could be part of my punishment for being a source of grieve.  I turned around, pushed my way through the small mournful crowd and hurried out of the room and to the main entrance.               * * * *   * * * * A few years ago, I got tired of my family’s religious ways and wanted out. We are a family of six and devout Baptist Christians. My father was an elder at our church who perfectly fits the biblical qualification of one; a faithful husband, well behaved gentleman who has a well behaved family etcetera. At first, I was a good kid, in the Christian’s definition of “a good kid,” but my life was a routine that revolved around school, home and church. My discontentment started when I was about 10 years old. At that time, I was just becoming self conscious and remember struggling with not fitting in at school and being bullied. Actually, I didn’t make much friends because my siblings and I were cautioned at home not to mingle with unbelievers. “They are bad influences.” My parents would say. The problem however was, it was hard to tell who was or wasn’t an unbeliever and the concept “believer” to me just meant people who lived life like my family did, so I didn’t talk to many people. You could palpate my joy when I found out one day that my classmate, Sam, is from a “believer” home. You guessed right! I made him my friend but not for long. My mother dropped in at school the following week to say hi and I took the opportunity to introduce Sam to her. If it was to show off how well I was doing socially, I still can’t tell but she started questioning the boy almost immediately. “Hello Sam, how are you?” Mom started “Doing very well ma’am.” He replied courteously. “Where does

IS IT OVER? Read More »

AMNESIA

On the 8th floor of St Luke’s hospital, a group of students and an adult are seen making their way down a wide hallway that is lined by patient rooms on one side and nursing stations, storage and rest rooms on the other side. John, the adult among the group, turned around, and smiled at the students walking behind him before continuing down the hallway. The students followed him. He had just finished showing them the residents’ lounge. Suddenly, Dr. Einstein appeared from around the corner of an intersecting hallway and approached the group. When he got closer, John stopped to exchange pleasantries. “Good morning Dr. Einstein” He greeted “A Pleasant morning to you John.” Dr. Einstein hailed back. “Are you done with the assignment?” “What assignment?” John asked “That’s okay. I will ask Meg.” Dr Einstein waved as he walked past the group. John swirled around and smiled again at the group behind him. Some smiled back. He continued further down the hallway and turned his head slightly to spy over his shoulders. He noticed the students still behind him and frowned. He walked a few steps further, this time a little faster. “I can’t take this anymore.” He whispered to himself “Why are you following me?” He turned and asked the group. There were puzzled looks in the small group. “Uhmm, because you’re our tour guide?” A beautiful tall lady replied from among them “Am I?” John asked looking surprised “Well, no one asked me but I can help show you around. I know every bit of this hospital.” “I bet you do.” One little guy smirked. John had stepped into work that day having his usual confidence that he will do well and finish his task before the medical team start their rounds. He is a housekeeper, which means he makes sure the unit floor ran smoothly everyday. Part of his job includes coordinating the cleaners and re-supplying the floor with cleaning supplies. He has done this job long enough that he is familiar with all the teams in the oncology unit. It is hard sometimes to distinguish what John exactly does on the hospital floors because he is asked to do other odd jobs that were not originally in his job description and he doesn’t mind as long as they keep him busy. Unfortunately, he is also well known for something else. “Here, move closer all of you.” He beckoned on the students. “Has anyone showed you around the infusion center yet?” “No.” They chorused “We are hoping you would show us the interesting places around here.” Another girl added. “Sure, I’d be glad to. This hospital was established in 1932 by two brothers, the Baileys. Both of their parents and sister had passed away from colon cancer. Those losses were their major inspiration to study medicine and find answers to…wait, who do you all say you are again?” He interrupted his story to ask. There was an awkward silence for a second. Some were puzzled while a few of the students started to giggle. They thought it was funny. Ed, the oldest looking boy in the group, stepped forward and calmly explained. “Mr. John, we are students from Lincoln High, and we’re here on tour of this hospital. You were asked to show us around the oncology unit because our original tour guide could not come in today.” If Ed had not figured out what was happening, he’d also think John was being stupid, rude or simply funny, but John seemed to have a medical condition similar to that of his grandpa. Ed’s grandpa suffer from memory issues and it started after he had an accident with a significant blow to his head also known as head trauma. Ed had helped with taking care of grandpa Dou during the past summer holidays, so he quickly recognized the symptoms. “Ed!” Grandpa Dou had called out one day from his rocking chair while drawing from his pipe and puffing out a thick fume into the air in his face.”Get me my chop.” Ed was home alone with grandpa Dou but was not near to hear him call. Instead the neighborhood delivery boy, who happened to be dropping off their wood supply at that moment, answered. Everyone knows grandpa’s chop meant his herbal chewing stick. The young local also figured this out quickly and fetched him a single stick from the backyard kitchen. Dou collected the stick, dropped it on a stool next to his chair and retrieved some cash from his wallet for the boy. As the young lad readied to leave, grandpa called again for his chop, the boy retrieved another stick and got paid. He was being paid for the third stick when Ed walked in. “Pop, what are you paying Rico for?” “He bought me my chop.” Dou replied “No grandpa, we have your chop in the kitchen.” Ed was still speaking when the boy took off as fast as he could. That was one of many occasions when grandpa Dou has been taken advantage of for his poor memory. Grandpa Dou was 62 years old when his symptoms started and 12 years later it hasn’t gotten any better. Curiosity lead Ed into researching his grandpa’s memory loss and found that his symptoms closely match the kind called anterograde amnesia, where he has difficulty forming new memories. However, knowing that grandpa Dou’s condition was most likely caused by his accident he has no fear of genetic transmission. Today, after encountering John his tour guide, he wondered what the story behind John’s memory loss could be. Okay, the above story is purely fiction. The goal is to educate via storytelling. I am pro-storytelling so if I could be a teacher, the curriculum will probably support this approach. I mean if it’d help knowledge stick faster then why not. Please, Let me know what you think.

AMNESIA Read More »

Friends, really?

Author: Jenn Azu A note to self and to whom it may concern.Maneuvering relationships remains one of the most complex things I have encountered in my life. This is mainly because relating with others involves human emotion and oh, boy! what a roller coaster that can be. Whether a relationship is with a sibling, parents, a spouse or friend(s), it has to be consciously built else it will fetch a person nothing or worse still, deteriorate. I learned, however,  from a dear friend that it takes more than one person in a relationship to build a solid relationship. This knowledge would have saved me many heartaches had I known it earlier. It brings me to the analysis of the concept of friend-relationship, at least the way I understand it. One sunny afternoon while at lunch with a colleague, she enquired about my friendship with someone we both knew. “Actually, we’re not friends,” I replied, to her amazement. “We’re acquaintances, not friends.” I tried to explain to her that friendship depends on how you define it. Although the word “friend” is used frequently, sometimes we actually mean acquaintance when we say friend. To me, a friend is someone you have chosen to build a relationship with and you both are aware of the budding relationship and are mutually investing into it. The desire to build a relationship does not only have to be between a couple. A platonic relationship can and should be nurtured. Before I go on, let me differentiate an acquaintance from a friend. The dictionary definition of an acquaintance is “a person known to one, but usually not a close friend.” An acquaintance can have something in common with a person such as age, school, work or nothing at all. Acquaintances could do you favors you might or might not return. They easily walk in and out of your path in life, and you will find it easy to cut loose from them as well. For example, saying goodbye to your work colleagues when leaving a job. Therefore, an acquaintance should not be confused with a friend. Understanding this difference will save you many emotional troubles. By my definition of friendship, there is always something that serves as the bond to keep friends together. It could be a habit or an activity, but it is always something that is most delightful when done with your friend. For instance, your friend could be your partner in gossip, a fellow book lover, an accountability partner or someone you share your thoughts, ideas or intentions with and trust them to care for what you have entrusted to them. If your relationship is doing well, you tend to confide in your friend a little more than you would in a stranger, so your friend can sometimes boast of knowing you better than anyone else. However, if you do not understand this concept, it is easy to assume just anyone who sticks around long enough to be a friend.The danger is, when you assume, you don’t set boundaries to how you relate to the people around you otherwise known as acquaintances, and when you do not set boundaries you tend to reveal information about yourself that can possibly hurt you when misused. Why choose your friend? If you come from certain families where parents are well invested in the entirety of your upbringing including the quality of your character and relationships, you must have heard counsels like “choose your friends wisely.” Those words may sound cliche’ but are unfortunately ever relevant because a friend can influence your life in much larger ways than you think. Your friendship is powerful enough to direct the path your life takes – yes, the relationship is that powerful. You could get a job, marry a person or pursue a career through the influence of a friend. Personally, I had this experience back in high school days where I got a whooping 98% in math one term (semester) because my friend suddenly became hype about studying math. Unfortunately, a friend-relationship has the power of a bad influence like it has of a positive one. A friendly influence can also be the beginning of a destructive addiction, character weakness or poor decision. Proverbs 13:20 puts it this way “He that walks with wise men shall be wise” and you can guess what he will likely become if his companions are unwise. Therefore, It is very important to possess the maturity to evaluate your relationship(s). Sometimes, it is difficult to admit or even realize that one is in an unprofitable relationship especially if you value or strongly desire acceptance, but it will never hurt to appraise your relationship at times and answer certain questions. Is your relationship building you or not? Or at least not hurting you? The quality of a friendship, notwithstanding, is the quality of the people involved in it. Your individual priorities, values, character, knowledge and maturity level carry over into your relationship, and although your relationship could evolve overtime if it lasts long enough, you will greatly influence each other, it would be wise therefore to be intentional about it. Friendship is a great thing to have in our journey through life. If man was made to tread the earth in loneliness, we will not arrive in company of the unit called family. I am simply pointing out the powerful influence friends can have on our lives and therefore the need to be deliberate about that aspect of life. “A man that has friends must show himself friendly: and there is a friend that sticks closer than a brother” Proverbs 18: 24

Friends, really? Read More »

It Shall Pass

The Test of Time When I am anxious And in distress Those times when my heart rate race And blood pressure seem to rise. I lay my hand over my chest and feel my heartbeat, closely. It is strange but there’s a calming effect to it. Those beats seem to say that similar situations have come and gone And I’m still here. It seems to say there is life and so hope Like a reassurance that this too will pass. So you too, find courage that there’s hope with the living. Jenn. A Photo: internet

It Shall Pass Read More »

“He failed me.” she cried.

Author: Jenn Azu On a bright Saturday afternoon at Abuja campus, many students can be seen in several classrooms reading. The medical students especially have the habit of spending the early hours of the weekend in classrooms studying. Mary, Sandra and Ayodele are first year medical students of this prestigious university. They had come to school at different times that morning but had met up and left the classroom together. They bantered as they walked down the hallway on their way to students’ lodge. Previously, they have gone from studying to discussing how tough their courses were. Sandra, a 23 year-old, is a repeat student because she had failed to meet some course requirements to move to the next class.  Mary and Ayo are first time medical students. They had been overjoyed on admission to medical school, but their joy soon turned to caution when they realized the hurdle medical school is. Ayo, a dark skinned and slim lady with a pretty face, is only twenty years old. A year younger than Mary. She has the wisdom of an older person and is often reflective. Her biggest motivation, however,  is the fear of failure. She bugged Sandra with questions on her experience from last year; her concern was to know the mistakes Sandra made and avoid them. “This course is tough o!” Ayo exclaimed in a typical local manner and turned to Sandra. “Sandy, how did you manage last year?” Trying as much as possible to be sensitive. “What do you mean how did she manage?” Mary queried, herself not being a fan of such questions but Sandra interjected. She is a willing informant. She dove into stories of woe and comfort, regret and hope and in the process made a comment that shocked both of her listeners. “During my first year last year, I served God fervently,” Sandra explained “but as it turned out, I failed. God failed me.” At that point, Ayo did not ask any more questions. She turned to herself in thoughts. How could God fail someone who is dedicated to his service? She pondered. They all were Christians from different denominations. Mary is a staunch catholic while Ayo belonged to the protestant denomination and is well involved in her campus fellowship activities. As soon as they walked through the main entrance of the building, they exchanged goodbyes and Ayo headed straight for her lodge. Before she got to the motor park, the previous encounter has been overcome by other concerns but the conversation she just had would linger for a long time. ********************************************************************************* It is Wednesday evening and time for fellowship at Digging Deep Campus Fellowship (DDCF). The weather had been so hot all afternoon that it was a relief when light showers started later. By nightfall, the rain had stopped but the ground was damp and the weather cool. By this time, the massive number of students seen on campus has reduced to a trickle as a few more made their way home or to nighttime class. The campus fellowship usually set up a temporary tent for fellowship. The tent was put up before fellowship and also dismantled and taken to storage at the end of each worship service; it requires much work but it keeps the worshippers from being drenched or scorched by the elements. That evening, it was well into prayer sessions when Ayodele arrived and quietly snuck into the last row seats to join the prayer. Peter’s voice boomed over the microphone in fervent prayer. The atmosphere was tense as he prayed. “Let it release you now! Release you now, yesss…yesss!” Peter prayed and commanded silence, “The captives must be set free…must be set free, must be set free! Oh yes!” He went on. In the congregation, there was much concentration on the prayers. Some people had their hands in the air with their eyes closed. Others made inaudible but intense praying sounds. Usually, at the end of this kind of atmosphere, testimonies abound. Certain illnesses are healed and financial breakthroughs or meaningful revelations came. Thus, the like of Bro Peter, as he is fondly called, is always a favored guest to DDCF’s prayer meetings. Peter started out as a bible study coordinator 6 years ago in DDCF. Then, he was a second year student of Biochemistry and was passionate about his position among the brethren (a term used to describe a collective body of Christians). Peter can expound on the scriptures like none other that it was difficult to replace him the following year, so he served as a bible study coordinator for two years. However, Peter was not an excellent student at school. In fact, he struggled more than the average student. His problem was that he found it difficult to keep concentration on his studies. After class period and whenever Peter settled down to study, he just cannot concentrate long enough to read more than two pages of his notebook. Sometimes he fell asleep or got carried away in his thoughts. Peter knew he lacked motivation to study his courses, and that it spelled trouble for his grades as a consequence. Unfortunately, the university does not provide resources to support their students in that situation and Peter was also too lazy to take any initiative and think outside the box. He assumed he did not have motivation because he disliked his major. Peter, therefore, found himself hating study blocks and would welcome any distraction instead of reading. Playing the avoidance game, he would volunteer extra time at fellowship, lingering around at the end of worship to do extra activities like counseling and dismantling the tent when other students are hurrying back to their study lounge. Naturally, Peter lit up when he talks to people or manipulate objects, so when he has a hard time understanding his books he channeled his energy to the things that make him happy. By Peter’s fifth year, it was clear he would be having an extra year. An extra year in a

“He failed me.” she cried. Read More »

Verified by MonsterInsights