The choir was singing but these two were not.
“Ah ah, Johno!” Ikay was signalling to John. “No bi Captain Eselu bi dat?”
John raised his eyes from his smartphone on which he’d be typing a reply and followed Ikay’s prompted direction.
“Na im na,” he replied in that absent-minded way that Ikay was used to. Ikay knew not to be offended. That was how John was when he had to round up what held his attention on his phone before giving his full attention to anything else. John’s penchant “Tunnel Vision”. So, Ikay allowed him finish, power off his phone screen and re-pocket the device.
“Guy!” Ikay exclaimed before continuing, “so all dis time wey you don dey drag me com una Church, you no fit yarn me say una get timba and caliba for here?”
Ikay was shaking his head and frowning at John. But John’s reaction surprised him. There was that characteristic, unmistakeable look of disgust that Ikay knew so well.
“Abegi,” John reacted with a click of the tongue and a dismissive wave of his hand. “That one?” he queried, signalling with his chin in the direction of the man Ikay had referred to as Eselu. “So, if you dey cant timba and caliba, you go cant dat one join?” he finished with upturned lips that depicted the full expression of his disgust.
Ikay was taken aback. Slightly. He looked from John to Eselu and back again at John, the latter who had brought out his phone from his pocket again and was smiling at the screen while beginning to compose a reply.
Outside the concave of their conversation, the choir had just finished the rendition of their post-sermon number and the minister was rising to head to the lectern. He had not reached it when Ikay noticed that John’s phone had gone from sight and back into the recesses of his right jean pocket. So, he broached the subject of his interest again.
“John, wait, wait. You wan talk say dis guy wey get dat filling station for Ajinga junshun, pesin wey dey use Humma 5 jeep and wey don cari all im family travul away so dat recession no go wori dem, you wan teh me say dat kain pesin dey una Church and you dey use am do yimu?”
All through this rendition, John was shaking his head but he allowed Ikay finish.
“You don finish?” he asked with a tone flavoured with sarcasm.
It didn’t escape Ikay’s notice.
“O’boy, I tire for you oo,” Ikay fired back. “E bi like say you go toast di guy pikin and im catch you naim make you dey beef am like dis, abi na wetin?”
John turned sharply to face Ikay who was seated on the right of him on the same pew.
“Na thunda go fire dat maut wey you dey take talk rubbish!” John shot back.
His voice was a little louder than he had planned. This, and the fact that the minister was in-between sentences and had paused to dramatically add verve to his statements meant that John’s voice when he said, “…take talk rubbish” was heard three pews away.
A few heads turned towards the both of them immediately. But these inquisitive church members were not fast enough because by the time they swivelled their necks around to see who was causing a nuisance in the area, John and Ikay’s countenance bore such rapt attention at what the minister was saying that they appeared heavenly angelic.
“And that, brothers and sisters is the reason why we ought to be charitable on the Lord’s behalf so that he will also open a book of remembrance for us to provide for our needs,” the minister finished just two minutes after the friends stopped discussing and focussed on his words. Not a word had passed between them since the “thunda fire” exchange.
When the minister called for a collection towards philanthropic giving in support of his prepared statements and some flurry of activity of people singing, dancing and moving meant that the area around which John and Ikay were sitting was not as quiet as it previously was, Ikay nudged John.
John still had a frown on his face when he turned right towards Ikay.
“Sorry na!” Ikay entreated, “no bi joke I bin dey joke.”
John let out a thickly deep hiss followed by a click of his tongue.
“Which kain nonsens joke bi dat,” John blurted after his hiss ended. “Na you go befren Eselu pikin no bi me. Tufiakwa!”
Ikay was astounded. His jaw hung open as if he was singing the Alleluia chorus with the choir.
“Ah ah, no bi blezzin to get Eselu as father-in-law?” he asked John with a quizzical look furrowing his forehead.
John was frowning. “Blessin? Blessin?” he said, shaking his head. “ Haaaa!!! God forbid!” he finished, snapping his thumb and index finger in an arc over his head while chucking his shoulder to his cheek.
“Ah ah, e no fit bad lik dat na, na wetin?”
John simply hissed, shook his head and both shoulders this time.
“A whole Eselu, Captain Eselu, di one and…,” Ikay was saying.
John interrupted him with words dripping with venom, “Dat stingy tin!”
Not for the first time that Sunday, Ikay was at a loss. Stunned to silence.
When he found his tongue, Ikay’s voice had lost some decibels. “Eselu? Stingy? Jisos Christ!!!”
“I dey teh you sontin…” John started.
As if the fates themselves wanted to clear the air of doubts, the line-by-line movement towards the collection box for the charitable giving got to where the so-called Eselu was seated. It was with wide-eyed consternation that Ikay noticed his Captain Eselu remain seated while everyone around him got up, joined the line and dropped something in the collection box.
With his smuggest look, John turned towards Ikay with that full-blown “Wetin I teh you” mien. But the awestruck Ikay didn’t notice. He was looking more shocked by the minute. And not a little distraught. He couldn’t believe that he’d just witnessed something he could’ve argued against to eternity and back with John were it not that he was a living, eyewitness. He tried recalling what little he heard from the minister’s words. The latter had make it clear that the money realised from the collection will go towards helping motherless babies and what was left will be shared by the Church’s committee for helping their in-house indigent members. The minister couldn’t have been clearer and though Ikay was not paying attention from the start, that much was obvious from the part he heard. So, why will anyone with the means not assist? Even John and himself had committed N50.00 each to the fund and they were both underemployed graduates.
Wow! He shook his head to clear the webs of disbelief and let out a deep sigh.
“I.K, abeg leave dat guy story, jare,” John was trying to bring him back from his reverie, “no bi today sontin. Every man know alredy for di church say na so Capt’n bi. Na bicos say you jos arrive naim mak am dey do you like fim.”
“O’boy, na wa oo,” Ikay finally managed. “If to say I no take my korokoro eye see am, I no for gree oo! Chaii!!!” It was Ikay’s turn to shrug his shoulders in accompaniment of the word “Chaii!!!”
That exclamation was heard by the lady seated directly in front of Ikay. She momentarily turned around and gave him the eye, with a frown. The minister had returned to the lectern with the collection over and was expressing his appreciation to the members of the congregation and Ikay’s voice was interfering with the lady’s listening.
“You no go face front na,” Ikay said under his breath with his lips scarcely moving.
Yet, it was audible enough to be heard because the minister had become quiet again while he was waiting for the ushers to count how much was collected so he could announce it. A habit he cultivated for the sake of accountability and probity.
There was this burly man seated next to the lady who gave Ikay the stern eye and whose reaction made Ikay ask her to face front thinking it was not loud enough but which was in the end. He slowly turned around and looked at Ikay. He had a face like concrete slabs joined together by an apprentice workman. The edges jutted out acutely and the dips were coarse. This made the frown he wore all the more menacing. Ikay believed that if the man got any angrier, whiffs of smoke might begin to emanate from his wide nostrils and fiery blazes from his wild eyes. He made sure his discontent was registered fully on Ikay before turning his broad shoulders, which were twice that of Ikay’s and John’s combined, and massive neck back to face the altar.
Ikay, who didn’t know he’d been holding his breath the entire time, exhaled. It was as if he’d been a balloon blown taut and after exhaling, felt his entire body go limp. Flaccid.
That was the last time he spoke a word to John for the rest of the service.
Service over, John was summoned by the minister and Ikay decided to go with him. As the assistant to the head of the caretaker of the Church, John had responsibilities that were multiplied any Sunday the caretaker was absent from church like this Sunday. So, the minister had John, and Ikay with him, go through the checklist of what was to be done, members to pass series of information to from the desk of the minister and errands to run. Just before the minister could wrap up the delineation of duties for the Sunday, Captain Eselu’s Wrangler Jeep came into view as it headed for the exit of the premises. The minister asked that John hang on while he signalled Eselu and moved towards the Wrangler.
“Man of God,” Eselu mused as he quickly alighted, bowed and accepted the handshake the minister offered.
“Capt’n, Capt’n,” the minister boomed, smiling profusely.
“Hahaha,” Eselu laughed, “Your Lordship,” he continued, “I’m loyal” he said bowing again with both arms behind his back.
“You this Capt’n, funny man, you always make…” that was the much John and Ikay could hear because they were walking away from the duo as they exchanged pleasantries.
Ikay shook his head. John simply shrugged and continued taking down notes from what he was discussing with the minister before the Eselu episode.
“So, na dis kain tin you dey see everyday for church?” Ikay was asking. “How you com dey still wok for here like dis? If na me, chaii, I trus mysef. I for don cut out, tey tey.”
“Say who die na?” John retorted. “Me I know who I dey serve na! No bi God? I no dey serve human bein oo! Na God. So, notin fit make me cut out bicos of wetin anoda pesin dey do.”
Ikay shrugged. “Well, na true sha. You dey on point. But eh…” he shrugged again, “na wa. God dey sha. E go beta.”
“Abi oo!” John finished as the minister rejoined them. Just behind him, they could see Eselu climb back into the Wrangler and before long, he passed them with a glance in their direction and he was out the gate.
“Abi oo!” John finished as the minister rejoined them. Just behind him, they could see Eselu climb back into the Wrangler and before long, he passed them with a glance in their direction and he was out the gate.
John watched the Wrangler go until it turned right into the T-junction at the end of the road and disappeared from sight. And John prayed silently in his heart. He prayed that if this was the kind of wealth that people had that will not bring them to the ground enough to contribute in aiding others less privileged, then let him not be wealthy in his life.
Meanwhile as Eselu drove past John and the minister (Ikay had gone to ease himself), he felt glad to be of help. While discussing with the minister, he had told him to use N500,000 from the N1million he donated for the care of the indigent to begin to pay John (the assistant caretaker) and the caretaker himself so that they both will be encouraged to continue to do the work of God they were doing for free all these years. Eselu was pleased with how quietly they both contributed to the work of the ministers and thought it was good for some pay package to be arranged for them and like he’d always done since he joined the church a decade ago, he took it upon himself to shoulder the financial responsibility but secretly. In agreement with the ministers through the years, he’d financed most of the church’s projects especially when the contributions from members fell short of budget and two of the three pastors’ remuneration came from his pocket. His only request was for prayers and anonymity.
So, as he drove away (and as John’s prayer ascended to the heavenly altars), the Captain prayed. He prayed that God will bless John for his contributions and answer John’s prayers.
It is safe to assume that both men (Assistant Caretaker John and Captain Eselu) had their prayers answered.
(image source:
https://clubadventist.com/forums/topic/64043-buc-news-edition-956-18-december-2015/)