To Pieces – A Short Story by Samuel Olayiwola
Some years back, I was taken to a certain church for deliverance; I really can’t remember the name of the church anymore. My boyfriend accompanied me to the church while my parents later came to check on me. They left after concluding that I was fine but my boyfriend stayed with me.
During the deliverance session, the pastor asked if I had a boyfriend or not. I replied in the affirmative.
“Who?” he asked.
“Him, Tunde,” I replied.
The pastor then went on to protest that I could not have a successful deliverance from the evil spirits that were waging war against my life if I had a boyfriend. And if I so desired to be free from these “evil spirits”, I had to break things up.
He stopped checking up on me after that day. My parents too; they were just too busy and occupied with their business. Besides, they were rest assured that their child was safe in the “house of God”.
I was left alone in the church with the pastor.
I usually developed a sickness whenever I was about to write any exam; the first time it happened was before my Common Entrance Examinations into the Junior Secondary School. When it started again a few days to my Junior Secondary School Examinations and it was starting to look like a very serious condition, I had to be taken to the hospital, and there, the doctor told my parents that it was nothing more than an anxiety attack.
Unsatisfied with this report and being the over-spiritual people that they were, they concluded that I had to go for deliverance.
It was a dry fasting; I wasn’t allowed to eat anything until the third day. They said I had evil spirits in me that was against my promotion to a greater level and so I was to spend the three days and night in church. I obeyed, and left home for church.
What happened on the night of the third day will forever be fresh in my memory. The pastor called me into his office and congratulated me for breaking up the relationship with my boyfriend. He further assured my deliverance was sure.
I agreed and believed in faith as I was taught to. Next, he told me to kneel down so he could anoint me. The room was dark to which I wondered aloud why.
Yes, there was light in the church but he switched off the light in his office as soon as I stepped into his office.
I wanted to ask him why but I remembered my mum warning me and my siblings never to question the actions of ministers of God for it could provoke the wrath of God upon the curious. I said nothing.
He opened the anointing oil and slowly began to rub it all over my chest.
It was a spiritual cleansing from the evil spirits that were disturbing me, he told me.
He squeezed my breasts and looking straight into my eyes, told me that evil spirits love residing most in the breasts of young women.
I was only fifteen. I wanted to question him, I wanted to slap his hands off me, I wanted to scream, I wanted to destroy his office, I wanted to unleash the real evil spirits that were within me on him. . . but I kept quiet.
Mummy said questioning ministers of God provoked divine wrath.
* * *
I am twenty-two. I can’t tell my parents anymore because what’s the point? Miracles happened in his church, he was a preacher of holiness, he was so real, so true . . .
No one would understand. No one would feel the same way. These shoes of mine . . .
I will always feel robbed. Always feel stained. So messed up. Always.
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