Nigerian Catholic Church, Project Sundays, and Second Collections

(By Uzoamaka Doris Aniunoh) - I went to church today. The Catholic Church of Assumption, Umuoji. For our family thanksgiving, post funeral mass.

I came late, thankfully. All is well. Never mind the many 'second collections' that happen. At the end of mass, Father tells us about a project they are working on and how they need people to contribute. He calls on one man like that, the one who has the convincing voice. The man kneels down, Father blesses and hands him the microphone.

He prays and sings and tells us how he was speaking to Jesus before he came to mass that day. About how brethren of the church would give mightily. Amen.

He says that Jesus told him that four people will give 50k each. He begs for these three people to obey god. He sings and prays and sings some more. My father turns to me and says he is tired of this wahala. So he gives 50k, in the hopes that we'd move on. Nope.

He continues to beg the remaining three people. He tells them that they may not have the money at this time, but that it would come. They just need to pledge. He tells them that by giving this money, God would give them every single thing they ever asked of him in this life.

Of Nigerians, Languages, and Accents

(By Uzoamaka Doris Aniunoh) - Two things I'm interested in discussing today: language and accent.

I am guilty of some problems I want to point out, but I'll talk about them regardless.

So back in Birmingham, I dated a Spanish man who was Spanish in every sense of it. Like, his English was Spanish English. His accent was Spanish. His style of cooking was Spanish. He had absolutely no problems telling me he didn't know the meaning of a very basic English word. He would use a translator to find the meaning of the word in Spanish and only then would he know what it actually means and the context it was used.

I liked his accent and even found his not-so-vast knowledge of basic English, cute.

Now, when I served in Abeokuta, it was different. I dated a Yoruba guy whose English was kinda like that of four year old, and I had no atom of patience for his nonsense.

Would it be because Nigeria is an English speaking country, and considering that the latter was my colleague at work, I expected more from him? Did I tolerate my Spanish man because, well, Spain is a Spanish speaking country? Or was there something else?

Praise the Living god Anyways

(By Uzoamaka Doris Aniunoh) - When that painful Dana accident happened that took many lives and left families devastated at the airport as they waited for their loved ones, I heard Frank Edwards' testimony.

He was going to board the same flight but the powerful man of god, Pastor Chris, called him and asked him not to board that flight. Pastor Chris had felt something in his spirit whilst praying, hence the life saving phone call.

Frank missed that flight and it crashed. Praise the living god!!!

Frank did not die, because he worshiped at Christ Embassy and his man of god was powerful and he prayed. Pastor Chris even commented on the importance of 'taking instructions from your men of god', he spoke about obeying the spirit and the conveyor of the word.

Everyone was happy. They thanked god. The god that saved Frank and yet allowed over 150 others to die. The god that told his man to only ask Frank to stay away from the flight, the rest can enter and die.

So you thank god for saving Frank from that one crash, and you also thank him for killing hundreds more in the same crash?

I am not understanding it.

Soon, you will hear testimonies of people who narrowly missed being crushed by that church building. They will tell you how they didn't go to church the day the building fell. God told them not to go, but he told the others to also go.

Isn't god great and unconfused? Halaluya!

Finally Done With The Church

Aniunoh

(By Uzoamaka Doris Aniunoh) - I knew I was finally done with the church when the Catholic Church refused to bury my best friend's mother because she had owed some money at the women's meeting (she missed many meetings as well) and my friend did not have money to pay the debt.

Prior to this one, when my friend learned about her mum's death, she went straight to Christ Embassy, where she was a member, and asked to see a pastor. She was broken and confused and desperate, and needed to speak to a pastor urgently. She had even considered suicide.

They posted her up and down till she gave up.

She did not have an appointment to see the pastor. Pastor was not available. Pastor was in a meeting. Pastor was praying. Pastor was busy. Sit at the reception. Wait. Come back later.

My mother just died. I need to speak to the pastor, please.

Nope. She didn't speak to anyone. She left there more broken.

You know, if I had an envelope and I was there to sow seed or pay my tithe, the pastor would have been available, she said.

My friend had to find a pastor somewhere in her village, paid him money (money is the operative word here), so he could pray and have her mum buried.

The Catholic Church refused to bury her because money, Christ Embassy refused to see and counsel my friend because no money. The church? Lmao! Stay very far away from me, please.

Onitsha, Balconies, and Gists

(Uzoamaka Doris Aniunoh)--I lived in Onitsha with my parents and siblings in a four-story building. My father was the landlord and going downstairs was against his many rules, so I always stayed on the balcony, watching things happen. In Onitsha, the height of a building was an indication of its owner’s wealth. (For some reason, it was mostly the bungalows that had badly spelt signs in red paint that read DIS HOUSE IS NO FOR SELL.) My father owned our building, so it was only natural that we lived at the very top.

Our fourth floor living quarters had four balconies: one in our flat, two in our father’s flat and one separating the two flats.