IYANU – Episode 1: The Girl, The Spirit, and The Man of God

The last thing I remember doing was holding Temi’s hands. I also vaguely remember turning my head on the soft pillow of the hospital, trying to take a nap. I didn’t know that would be the last time in my almost perfect body. Almost perfect, because I was committed to going to the gym to reduce my tummy which looked like a 6-month-old pregnancy, because of the habit of eating junk anytime I wanted to. I also remember the fight that indirectly led to admission to the hospital. The fact is, I was a good human, but people always wanted to bring out the bad side of me. I intentionally let people use me, make a fool out of me, and also use me to please themselves, just for the fun of it. But there was one thing that irritated me: lies. That was what led to this once-in-a-lifetime sin.


On that day, the sun had no mercy as usual. It was so scorching and so hot that if I had stayed in the sun a little longer, my head would’ve been so hot to successfully fry plantain and egg. Lokoja residents can attest to the fact that it can be that sunny. I went to Gabriella’s house without minding the crazy heat. I needed to talk to her about the little argument we had the previous night via WhatsApp. I knocked on her wooden door twice, my hands aching already. Each time I get to her house, I wonder how landlords/landladies would think of using a wooden door in the 21st century. As I was thinking about it, she opened the door with the brightest smile ever. I always admired her smile before we became friends. This smile disappeared gradually when she saw my face, and I expected that, so I just stood there, expecting the worst, which was to go back home immediately. But she left the door and went inside. Elatedly, I ran inside, closing the door.


Before I opened my mouth to say anything, she started:

“Love, don’t say anything. Now is the time to say the truth.”

Truth? I was confused but determined to hear everything she wanted to say, without showing how confused I was.


“I was pretending all along. I never liked you. I never counted you as a friend. I was just keeping up with you because I needed some money to start up something and your best friend told me about how rich and benevolent you can be. So, I decided to feign friendship to get what I wanted. For a lack of words, you were my maga. After getting the money from you, there is no need to feign anything. I don’t care about you. Thanks for the money though. Have a good life.”

These words kept stabbing me as she opened the door for me to leave. Initially, I thought she was joking, but she wasn’t smiling at all. All of a sudden, I started looking for that bright smile that took my breath away. But it seemed so scarce. I looked at her face again. She must be joking, I thought. But looking at her face brought more heartbreak. She looked so cold, stern, and indifferent. I started thinking of so many things: How could I be so foolish? How could I be so stupid? How could I not notice anything? Before I could even attempt to answer the questions that were almost rhetoric, I remembered I was still in her house. With my eyes on the ground, I dragged myself out of the house and entered the punishing sun.


I didn’t know how to feel anymore. I felt so foolish, so used, like a used condom. I thought about everything I told her, which was true, and I thought about the lies she gave to me. I started asking myself again and again why bad things happen to good people. My heart was broken, I still felt the pains of the stabbed words everywhere. I was thinking of the next action to take when I heard a loud horn behind me. When I looked up, I found out I was in the middle of the road. “WTF!” I exclaimed, my mouth agape. The surprising thing was the fact that I saw nothing coming. Before I could think of how to get out of the road, a collision happened. This time., it wasn’t between two cars or trailers like it is being called. It was between a trailer and a body.


In a blink of an eye, I opened my eyes to see myself at the other end of the road, breathing heavily, and having no control of my body. It felt as if the stabbing words came to haunt me physically in the form of a Dangote trailer. Some people came around me, so scared and concerned. A woman was literally shouting repeatedly “The Blood of Jesus! The Blood of Jesus!!” She says that, increasing her volume as her right arm was on her head and her left hand was holding her loose wrapper. The arms kept switching roles for as long as I can remember. Some other people were trying to open my phone to call my loved ones, one person on the other hand was trying to check my pulse from time to time to confirm whether I was alive or not. I was not expecting to live again. I just wanted to leave at that time. I didn’t care about the Graphic Design School I just applied to, or the Fashion Business that Mummy was proud of. I closed my eyes, and after what seemed like a moment, I opened my eyes to see Temi, who was in tears. His hand was close to mine, so I held it. He turned to me and cried out for Mummy and Daddy to come and see me. I heard joy in his voice as he called out to my parents. My mum came first, almost running. “Omo mi!” She screamed, wrapping her arms around me as she started another round of tears. My dad came around too, touching my fractured leg, and giving me his charming smile.


“How do you feel now?” The doctor asked as he brought out his stethoscope from his well-sewn lab coat for a check-up. He checked a number of things and asked my dad and mum to see him immediately. Temi and I were left alone, and I must admit that he still looked good with his puffed eyes. He is my Chadwick Boseman. I needed to see that adorable smile, so I held that same hand and tickled his palm. Boom! There came the smile, rushing in like a tsunami. I stared in awe at the beauty that God created. That’s the last thing I remember doing: Admiring Temi’s beauty. I also vaguely remember him calling me countless times.


That morning, I was in my house and looking for who would see me. I had not tried to believe the fact that I’m dead. Family and friends came visiting, crying and consoling my dad and mum. Mummy kept wailing, Daddy kept sniffing, and everyone kept saying “Omase o”, but no one could see me. I called their names severally, but no one could hear me. I kept entering and going out of people, yet no one noticed. I literally gave up trying and concluded I was really dead. I then went outside, thinking I would meet an angel that would take me to the world beyond. But no, my fantasy and the movies I watched about death were not true. I kept roaming about my house street, so idle, enjoying my newly found abilities. Since it was Sunday, I decided to go to a church, as the tradition demanded when I was alive. I can’t believe I just used a past tense for “alive”. Well, sincerely, I hadn’t been to church in a while, and I hadn’t said my last prayers before taking my last breath. So, I decided to go and plead to God, maybe He will hear and answer my prayers, after all, I was a good person.


As I thought about a church to go to, I remembered a church I always wanted to attend when I was alive. I wasn’t permitted to go there because my parents were scared that if I go there once, I will leave their church for good. Of course, I would’ve preferred that church to mine. Now, no one can force me to a church that recites creeds from the beginning to the end of the service.


Excited that I had such freedom, I hopped my way to the church. As soon as I got there, there was this electrifying atmosphere. I’m not talking about the spiritual atmosphere: The lighting was top-notch, the instruments were amazing, and everything about the church was perfect. I stood at the entrance, amazed at what I was seeing. I still stood, waiting for a good-looking usher to welcome me to the church and show me where to sit. But they kept welcoming people who came after me and ignored me. I almost went to confront the head of the ushers, but I remembered and had to scold myself about how I expected them to see me. I elegantly went to an empty chair and sat. By that time, the sermon for the service has started.


“The Lord is leading me to talk about the Holy Spirit today”. The pastor looks almost well dressed, a shorter and less fine version of Paul Adefarasin. I expected a lot from him when he started the topic, but surprisingly, Daddy G.O. deviated from the main topic, giving us what the congregation expected. This time, he started jumping around the stage with the microphone on his left arm and his navy-blue oversized coat following him anywhere he jumped to, and saying prayers like: “The Lord will embarrass you with blessings.” I was there in my confusion, wondering how those prayer points relate with the topic of the sermon.


As the whole saga was going on, someone was directed by the usher to come sit with me, I assumed. But this smart-looking woman was coming towards me and trying to sit on me. I smartly stood up, before she was able to do that, and I was so livid, first at her for trying to sit on me, and secondly at myself because I was being angry at her when it wasn’t her fault. I went to stand at the back of the church watching the pastor and his hungry congregation and thinking of the next thing to do. Immediately, a great idea dropped in my head. It felt so good because it was the first deliberate bad action I was about to do. Part of the idea is to look for someone and enter the body of the person. The goal is to enjoy the service like a human. In no time, I started looking for a vulnerable human to dominate. I surfed around the first roll, but no one was available. By that time, they were doing the intercessory prayers. Everyone was praying so seriously and violently that I felt so unserious doing something like this. From the second roll, I noticed a girl, in her teens perhaps, not praying at all. What attracted me to her is the fact that she was indifferent to the war between the congregation and the evil spirits.


Initially, I was too scared to go there to meet her, but I summoned the courage to go. On my way to her seat, I expected her to just keep looking. It looked as if she was looking around until she looked towards me. She took her stinging eyes off me and brought it back to me again. Her eyes followed me until I got to her front. She kept looking at me and I had never been so scared. I had to start asking myself “Can she really see me?” I kept asking and asking myself. “What do you want ma’am?” She asked curtly, her voice sounding daring. She sounded as if she expected a request from me, which scared me the most. She noticed my expressions and laughed so hard, her yellow dentition flashing back at me. I speechlessly looked at her, not knowing what to say next. After some seconds, I opened my mouth to attempt to talk.


“How can you see me? How can you hear me? This is so weird!”

“Well, I can see you, and I cannot explain why I can.” She says with a mischievous smile.

“Okay. I need to go into someone’s body, and I thought you’d be the one. Let me go look for someone else.”


As I turned to go out of the church and never to try what I wanted to do, she held my hand, drawing me back. I thought we were done talking, but apparently not.


“I can give my body on one condition.”

“What is the condition?”

“I’ll tell you after the service.” She said, spreading her sleepy eyes, and giving me a ready sign.

I thought about it again and again, but since she offered herself, which was better than entering without permission, I decided to just do it.


When I saw her, I knew she was a spirit. This isn’t the first time I’ve seen someone like her. She is the umpteenth ghost I have seen after I went to Baba Rogba’s shrine. Curiosity took me there. I just needed to know what being in the shrine looked like. I enjoyed the moment, but I didn’t go back the same.  Started seeing all sorts of things, including ghosts, and I had to confess because my life was obviously not the same. I was taken back to Baba Rogba’s shrine, where he did some rituals to alleviate everything, except of course, to see ghosts.


For two years, I have been living this way, and I have accepted it to be normal. Now, I send any ghost I see to my mother. Sometimes, I doubt if my messages get to her, but I try to do that all the time, and that is what I was about to do with Love. One thing I noticed about this lady that is remarkable is the fact that she is so beautiful, and she looks so young. I liked her immediately when I saw her, even though I didn’t show it. That is the main reason I offered my body. This one is particularly unique, I thought. So, I spread out my almost muscular arms, and she was skeptical. She gradually went inside me and I felt so different. She must have been a very good person because I know how bad ghosts are when they are inside me. As I was trying to figure out why this one is particularly unique, I heard the pastor,” Hey you foul spirit!” I thought he was talking to another person, but he dropped his microphone and walked up to me.


“You this foul spirit, what are you looking for in this innocent girl?” Man of God shouted, pouring the lumps of spit on my right arm. He looked all sweaty like he had been doing tedious cultivation under the sun. his eyes were so red, like someone suffering from conjunctivitis. Edges of his lips and nostrils were decorated with spit and mucus. Man of God looked so weirdly attractive, despite all the vaguely interesting qualities. This was all I thought about as he was taking me to the altar. How would I explain to him that Love is not an evil spirit?


“Come out!” He screamed again. He kept doing it again and again, and this time, I was tired, and so was Love. We then decided in a short period that the next time he said that, I would fall and remain still. Perhaps, he will leave my head alone. Man of God came back again, with his half-collared suit, and shouted again: “You foul spirit! Out in Jesus’ Name!” Out of pity, we fell and stood still. At the sight of that, the Man of God started hopping around. “Yes, yes, yes. Thank you, Jesus.” There I was, lying on the floor, with Love staying calm inside me, doing a lot of rolling here and there so that the pastor wouldn’t notice anything.


I remained on the floor until after the service. Luckily, no one was concerned about me, except an usher who was compassionate enough to spread an Ankara material on my legs. When I got up, only I remained in the church. I rushed to check my phone and I found out the time was 3:30 pm. It was already too late, and my daddy would not be happy about this, so I decided to run home immediately. I cannot go with Love of course, but I noticed something as I checked some parts of my body. My legs became smaller, my arms more muscular, and my eyes blurrier.


What is happening? I ask my confused self as I take a seat. “Love, are you responsible for these changes?” There was no response. “Love! Love! Love!” I still felt her in my body, so I continued to yell her name, and the quieter she became, the more I yelled her name.

  1. What a lovely and nice story honestly am not the reading type but this story cut my attention. Please Admin I will advice you keep it up more interesting story’s please. Thank you as you do so

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