THE DEVIL LIVES IN AN AFRICAN VILLAGE
Turn not thy face from death away
Care not he takes thy breath away
Coming at thee faster and faster
He’s not thy master
But servant to thy maker
What or who created death created thee
And is the only mystery
- The book of counted sorrows
CHAPTER ONE
PROLOGUE
The rain had taken a break, leaving the sky blue and clear with the clouds white and taking different shapes. Throughout the past week, the rain had fallen nonstop day after day, confining the residents of Amaife to their homes. But now it seemed the clouds had run out of cats and dogs and so the sun was out and shining brightly, birds were chirping and singing, building nests and basking in the sun. Overhead an airplane could be seen, with red wings and a red stripped tail. The low rumble of the plane drew the eyes of Ndidi and her younger sister to the giant mechanical bird above.
“Aero plane bye bye! Aero plane bye bye!”
“Come again tomorrow!”
Ndidi and her younger sister shouted at the top of their lungs as they skipped towards the stream, their empty water pots balanced on their heads. Ndidi was six years old and her sister was four. Ifeoma her sister had a small pot, more like a jug and not up to a litre balanced on her head. She would always cry to accompany her sister to the stream and so her mother always indulged her, giving her a smaller pot to carry. Ndidi’s pot was much bigger.
Presently, they skipped towards the stream, with Ndidi thrilling her sister with the description of other airplanes she had seen. “There was this one that was very loud and smaller, like a dragon fly…it was beautiful.”
Ifeoma’s eyes grew wide “Do you know the name?”
“Mummy said it’s a helicopter”
They got to the stream and Ndidi held her sister’s hand and moved towards the shallow part. She proceeded to fill her pot first before fetching her sisters’. Suddenly, Ifeoma let out a piercing high pitched scream. She pointed at something in the water and Ndidi looked in the direction and also let out a blood curling scream.
The two girls abandoned their pots and took off, running towards the path they had come. The only sound to be heard was the high pitched frightened screaming from both girls. Even the birds had fallen silent as though observing a minute silence for whatever had frightened the sisters.
In the stream, the body remained afloat, she was naked and her body was bruised badly. Her lifeless eyes stared up at the clear sky as the gentle current of the stream carried her lifeless body down the stream.
Her name was Chisom and she was the third girl to be raped and killed in Amaife in the past one month.
The fume from the generator entered his office directly, making him cough in his sleep. His eyes fluttered open as he inhaled the deadly gas. He mumbled incoherently to himself and got up, dragging his feet tiredly as he shut the window. His ceiling fan didn’t provide much breeze and he had to rely on cross ventilation from outside most of the time. But his office was badly positioned and anytime the generator was on, he had to shut his window because of the air pollution. He stretched and cracked his knuckles as he returned to his seat. He had been updating a form about the monthly expenditures of the youth church before he dozed off.
His name was OsitaAzikwe, he was called Osi by everyone or pastor Osi by his church members, mostly the youths. He had been ordained as the youth pastor of New Life Ministries barely a month ago and he remained devoted to his duties.
As a young man, he had a very good rapport with the youths and was able to maintain a good interaction with them on any topic. He strived hard to maintain a relationship were they could reach him for any advice and he could gently but firmly instill morals and the rules of righteous living in them.
He was two weeks shy of his twenty sixth birthday and remained the youngest pastor in the church. He was chocolate in complexion and very lanky. He had a towering height at 6’2 but was quite on the slim side. He had never entered a gym in his life and saw no reason for it. He detested violence and to be frank, he was never conscious about his outward look. He was extremely good looking with his stand out feature being the dimples on both sides of his cheeks and an Adam’s apple that bobbled whenever he talked.
Osi was the fifth and last child 0f his parents. An Igbo father and a Yoruba mother. For long he had harboured anger towards his parents because all his siblings had been born outside the country. In the United States. But when his mother had been pregnant with him, she had risked having a miscarriage and flown back to Nigeria to be beside her father who was dying. Osi had been born a week later and his grandfather had gotten better.
When his visa application was continually denied while his siblings
Two boys and two girls
had flown in and out of the country, going to the states and coming back with pictures he had been filled with so much bitterness and had sent himself on exile. When he had graduated
Mechanical engineering
from the University of Portharcourt, he had remained in the state vowing to settle down and cut all ties with his family.
All that had changed when he met Reverend Okafor: The overseer of ‘New Life Ministries’. He found a new life and released himself from all anger and bitterness and reconciled with his family. Three years later, he was the youth pastor of the church and was immensely satisfied with his life.
Presently, he was busy with updating the Expenses for the month of May of the youth church. “We need a new Drum set, new amplifier…..definitely a new generator” he said to himself as he resumed his duty.
There was a knock on the door and he glanced up.
“Come in”
A young lady walked in “Pastor Osi, good afternoon please the reverend wants to see you”
“Theresa, how are you. You’re in church for choir practice?”
She nodded shyly “Yes….I have a special number to perform tomorrow”
Osi smiled “Wonderful! I can’t wait…tell the reverend I’d be with him shortly”
Reverend Okafor was in his late fifties. He had a powerful aura about him and a rich, deep voice which most times didn’t need the help of a microphone to reach everybody during a sermon.
He leaned on the pillar, watching the choir go through the practice for their song in preparation for the Sunday service the next day. He saw Theresa hurry to take her place; she had such a lovely voice: He thought to himself with a smile. He was about to ask her about the young pastor when his eyes caught movement from the rear of the church. His smile grew wider as he watched Osi’s lanky frame make his way towards him. He had a special fondness for the young pastor and indeed he loved him like a son.
“Let’s go to my office!” he shouted over the choir’s uniform voice blasting from the overhead speakers.
Osi nodded curtly and followed the reverend.
“Are you done with filling the expenses?” Reverend Okafor asked, settling behind his desk, sinking into his massive comfortable leather seat.
Osi sat down across from him “Not yet sir, I’m almost done”
“Okay, that wasn’t why I called you anyway” the reverend replied
Osi got up and opened the mini fridge. He removed a bottle water and returned to his seat. His relationship with the reverend was a free one. They both had a deep regard for each other and enjoyed an enviable easiness in their interaction.
The reverend’s office was spacious; the walls were decorated with framed photographs containing motivational quotes and bible scriptures. On the table was a framed photograph of his wife and two daughters.
Osi drank deeply from the bottle. The water was chilled. “I’m listening sir”
“Well you know of our rural uplifting crusade coming up”
“Yes sir”
“There’s been some changes”
“What happened? What kind of changes?”
The reverend leaned back in his seat. “Osi do you believe God has a unique purpose for everyone?”
Osi had no idea where the reverend was going
or coming from
but he nodded slowly.
“Years ago” the reverend continued “Your mother had to rush back to the country to be with her dying father, incidentally she was pregnant with you and so, you were born in the country”
Osi wondered why the reverend was recounting his own history to him, in fact everything the reverend knew about him, he was the one who had told him.
“Interestingly, your mother’s father got better the moment you were born and would live for another decade, meaning his time had not yet come at the time”
The reverend drummed his fingers on the desk “You see, we serve a mysterious God, he works in mysterious ways, do you believe if your mother hadn’t come back when she did, you would have been born over there and as a citizen, you wouldn’t remain in this country but would be living there as we speak”
Osi nodded “That’s true…I know”
“Also you never would have met me, and more importantly you might not have met Christ” he cleared his throat and Osi waited for the punch line “But the interesting thing is you would not be able to go for this assignment God has placed in my heart for you”
This time Osi sat up “Assignment…..what assignment?”
“You are going to lead the rural uplifting crusade”
“Me? But what about evangelist Tomori?”
“This assignment is for you” the reverend waved his question off “The Lord wants to use you for great works”
Osi was silent for some seconds. Finally he said “How long is the crusade?”
“It would last for a week”
“Who would accompany me?”
“Your team of youth leaders and deacon Oforbuike as well”
Osi winced when he heard of the deacon. The deacon disliked him immensely and didn’t bother to hide it. According to him, Osi was too free and worldly to be a pastor, to be the head of the youths. He was more qualified for the position but still remained a deacon. Osi had been chosen.
The reverend fired on, oblivious to his thoughts “We would be hosted by a dear friend of mine: Pastor Bartholomew, he has assured me of maximum hospitality”
Osi nodded for the umpteenth time that afternoon. So be it, he was a leader and he had to be firm. He couldn’t let anyone
The deacon
get under his skin.
“One question sir….where is the crusade taking place?”
“Amaife”
