Across the Niger with Ukachukwu OkorieIn the Holy Scripture, many things were said about the ‘Pharisees’. And just like then, there have been similar stories in today’s world. Their peacock-like characteristics can be found in many top people who call themselves ‘celebrities’, from actors and actresses to rock and hip hop stars, business magnets, religious leaders, professionals and acclaimed philanthropists.
But also among this lot are the greatest peacocks – the politicians. The ones who could be the beginning or the end of a law. The ones who always smile at the sweat of a poor hardworking man, shedding crocodile tears in his presence, but winking at his back.
There was a story of two men in a predominantly Christian community who went to a church to pray. One owned chains of businesses in the town and was said to be so very rich that he decided to run for an upcoming electoral contest; according to authoritative sources, his venture into politics was only to protect his numerous business interests, and not to represent his local community effectively. But despite his motives, he decided to seek the supernatural intervention through supplication to God. As an African adage puts it, the heart is like a handbag – only the owner knows what is inside.
The second man, on the other hand, was a wretched head of a family of four, excluding his wife. He was so poor that a two-square meal for his family in a day was considered something of a luxury. He was an unskilled labourer, and all that mattered to him was earning enough to feed his family. As such, people tended to exploit him.
One faithful day, the church was empty as the priest exposed the tabernacle for adherents to submit their needs in prayers. The poor fellow was the first to come into the church and went straight to the foot of the altar, crying and shouting in prayers to God. He prayed and told an invisible God that he will be staying put at the foot of the altar until his miracle came true.
The poor man was praying and weeping at full tilt when the rich man came in, clad in a very costly robe and scented with a top-of-the-range fragrance. He went straight to the front pew, reserved just for him whether or not there was a service going on. When he sat down to pray for his upcoming elections and interests, the poor fellow was still on the floor, crying as if he was thoroughly beaten by a bully. As the weeping got louder, the rich man could not concentrate on his intentions, so he walked up to the poor man.
“How much do you really need so that you could leave the church?” he asked tapping the poor man’s shoulder. “Your crying is distracting the direction of my prayers!”
“Just a little that can fetch bread for my starving family,” the weeping man replied.
The rich man dipped his hand into his pocket and took out some money – more than the poor man expected. In jubilation, the poor fellow ran home to share his miracle with his family while the rich man remained in the church to battle his problems in prayers, not knowing the impact his money had made.
A second story involves a mentally deranged man, Timothy, who lived in a market square. Beside his ramshackle home was the main deity of the community, which was worshipped before the advent of Christianity. Timothy talked like a visionary and a prophet, but due to his mental sickness, people tended to ignore his comments, which were often regarded as stupid or hallucinations.
Due to his place of residence, Timothy saw beyond the night. On one particular midnight, when a heavy rain descended on the community and its environs, Timothy was aghast to see a prominent leader do the most horrible thing. The man was not only prominent, but also the leader in the church council. He sat next to the Man of God in worship and church services.
Timothy almost got himself into trouble when he saw through a perforated hole in his squalor how this chief, as he was known, strangled his half brother with the help of his thugs. He had wanted to rush to the rescue of the victim, but the fright of being a second victim stopped him.
On the evening of the burial day, as Timothy was walking across the village, he went into the church for the requiem service. To his greatest disbelieve, the chief was in the front pew, sandwiched by friends, in tears as his brother’s coffin lay in state. Timothy could not endure this sight and he dashed towards the chief, but church warders grabbed and bundled him outside. Flinging his feet in the air, he kept shouting that the man should be uprooted from this earth because he killed his brother, but his protestations fell on deaf ears. As usual, they regarded his statements as the words of a madman – only the dead could say who his killer was.
Ukachukwu Okorie is originally from Nigeria. He writes a weekly column for Metro Eireann
olumoukachukwu@yahoo.com
There was a story of two men in a predominantly Christian community who went to a church to pray. One owned chains of businesses in the town and was said to be so very rich that he decided to run for an upcoming electoral contest; according to authoritative sources, his venture into politics was only to protect his numerous business interests, and not to represent his local community effectively. But despite his motives, he decided to seek the supernatural intervention through supplication to God. As an African adage puts it, the heart is like a handbag – only the owner knows what is inside.
The second man, on the other hand, was a wretched head of a family of four, excluding his wife. He was so poor that a two-square meal for his family in a day was considered something of a luxury. He was an unskilled labourer, and all that mattered to him was earning enough to feed his family. As such, people tended to exploit him.
One faithful day, the church was empty as the priest exposed the tabernacle for adherents to submit their needs in prayers. The poor fellow was the first to come into the church and went straight to the foot of the altar, crying and shouting in prayers to God. He prayed and told an invisible God that he will be staying put at the foot of the altar until his miracle came true.
The poor man was praying and weeping at full tilt when the rich man came in, clad in a very costly robe and scented with a top-of-the-range fragrance. He went straight to the front pew, reserved just for him whether or not there was a service going on. When he sat down to pray for his upcoming elections and interests, the poor fellow was still on the floor, crying as if he was thoroughly beaten by a bully. As the weeping got louder, the rich man could not concentrate on his intentions, so he walked up to the poor man.
“How much do you really need so that you could leave the church?” he asked tapping the poor man’s shoulder. “Your crying is distracting the direction of my prayers!”
“Just a little that can fetch bread for my starving family,” the weeping man replied.
The rich man dipped his hand into his pocket and took out some money – more than the poor man expected. In jubilation, the poor fellow ran home to share his miracle with his family while the rich man remained in the church to battle his problems in prayers, not knowing the impact his money had made.
A second story involves a mentally deranged man, Timothy, who lived in a market square. Beside his ramshackle home was the main deity of the community, which was worshipped before the advent of Christianity. Timothy talked like a visionary and a prophet, but due to his mental sickness, people tended to ignore his comments, which were often regarded as stupid or hallucinations.
Due to his place of residence, Timothy saw beyond the night. On one particular midnight, when a heavy rain descended on the community and its environs, Timothy was aghast to see a prominent leader do the most horrible thing. The man was not only prominent, but also the leader in the church council. He sat next to the Man of God in worship and church services.
Timothy almost got himself into trouble when he saw through a perforated hole in his squalor how this chief, as he was known, strangled his half brother with the help of his thugs. He had wanted to rush to the rescue of the victim, but the fright of being a second victim stopped him.
On the evening of the burial day, as Timothy was walking across the village, he went into the church for the requiem service. To his greatest disbelieve, the chief was in the front pew, sandwiched by friends, in tears as his brother’s coffin lay in state. Timothy could not endure this sight and he dashed towards the chief, but church warders grabbed and bundled him outside. Flinging his feet in the air, he kept shouting that the man should be uprooted from this earth because he killed his brother, but his protestations fell on deaf ears. As usual, they regarded his statements as the words of a madman – only the dead could say who his killer was.
Ukachukwu Okorie is originally from Nigeria. He writes a weekly column for Metro Eireann
olumoukachukwu@yahoo.com
