As a Jehovah’s Witness, going out on evangelism is a certainty. It’s what makes you worthy of the appellate in the first place. From the place of worship, you were put in a group of two, sometimes three, and sent out to propagate the gospel of Christ. I detested this simple Christian activity for two reasons: One, I was a naturally shy person and evangelism isn’t for the timid. Two, often times, the period for evangelizing didn’t always sit well with me. But I was born a Jehovah’s Witness and as long as I lived under my parents, I had to remain one.
So when I was paired with Aramide, a slim, anxiously pretty and outspoken Sunday school friend, for evangelism that Christmas day, my dislike of evangelism soared higher, like a kite that escaped a young boy’s untrained hands.
“How on earth must we evangelize on Christmas day,” I asked myself, “with all the aroma of chicken and fried rice wafting around our neighbourhood like strong insecticide in a choked room?!”
“Of all possible Witnesses, why should it be Aramide, a lady I have had a crush on since we were in senior secondary school?” And the questions continued.
My brain did a makossa at the thought of spending the whole morning with a girl I had asked out twice to no avail.
“But sir,” I began in a stutter, as I tried to persuade the Head of Evangelism to reconsider the pairing, “I am not feeling too well sir and I might not be able to handle the rigours of evangelism today.”
“No, no, Bro Sheye, you’ll be fine,” he started, “and that’s why Sister Aramide will be there to give you all the assistance you need.”
“But sir…”
“Don’t worry, Bro Sheye, the Lord is your strength,” he chipped in before I could say more.
I turned to look into Aramide’s eyes. What I saw were brown eyes set perfectly on an oval face finished with a slight dimple. She arched her eyebrows as her eyes pored into mine. I looked away.
“How does she always make me feel this way?” I asked myself.
As things turned out, the whole evangelism didn’t take more than twenty minutes. We never went beyond the first apartment we visited.
The building was one of those common four-flat storey buildings set on a plot or so of land. When we entered the compound, the apartment closest to the gate was the first port of call.
Ko ko ko.
It was Aramide who knocked while I stood behind, silently reveling in the view her shapely behind offered my sinful eyes. I snapped out of my sinful mode as soon as I realized we were supposed to be on evangelism.
“No one is answering, Sheye,” she said almost in a whisper.
“You sure? Isn’t that music playing in the sitting room?” I stepped closer to listen clearly. It was music alright, a Celine Dion song, the title of which I couldn’t immediately decipher, filtered into my strained ears from the apartment. I knocked, this time harder, on the half open door, the curtain swayed slightly from behind the open door.
Still, no response.
We gave up and decided to drop a copy of Awake at the door, like we had been rigorously taught over the years at the sanctuary.
“Never walk into any apartment uninvited,” the voice from the evangelism training hammered in my head like a recalcitrant headache.
As I fished for the magazine in the bag I carried, one which always reminded me of the Baba Alajo’s on our street, I heard a sound. It was the unmistakable thud of a piece of furniture followed immediately by a creaking sound like an overloaded hydraulic machine groaning under a weight beyond its stated capacity.
Without thinking, I pushed the door open.
What I saw on the day changed my views about evangelism permanently.
Right in front of me, in the middle of the room, was a middle-aged man hanging by a rope from the ceiling fan like an uneven pendulum. His neck was askew and his tongue protruded from the mouth like some half-concealed currency in a wallet. His feet jerked wildly as if in a leg fight with some unseen spirit. Through the gory sight, I saw life struggle with death.
I rushed towards him, a shocked Aramide in tow.
Getting him off the rope was a huge task for he was a fairly big man. I immediately sent Aramide out to get help.
By the time she got back, he had stopped jerking and his eyes bulged like some surprised cartoon character’s. When life eventually left him, his body got heavier in my arms as if I’d inadvertently lifted a wrongly-tagged weight in a sub-standard gym. I regretted not coming earlier. Maybe if we had, the man would have lived.
That was last Christmas.
This yuletide, as Christmas chickens and rice once again rent the air, I walk down the street in evangelical glee. I couldn’t save a life the last time out; but this Christmas, I must rescue a soul.
***
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Da Writing Engineer @banky
I am who I am: The Writing Engineer!Go to Da Writing Engineer's profile, and read more of his/her posts.
Wow. Ok, fiction. Good story, well written. I like.
Thanks @gooseberry.
Ko ko ko
Hahahahahahahahaha
But that man shouldn’t have died o, and I was expecting something to happen between you and that gurl.
But no matter, I like the ko ko ko. It would have made a hilarious title for the story. Guy let’s do something together, something very humourous.
hmmnnnn. That wouldn’t be a bad idea o, @kaycee. Lets see what will happen then. Any thoughts yet? Inbox me. Thanks for reading, musketeer.
Beautiful story and well written too….congrats on winning d christmas nostalgia contest.
Thanks @obi. Thank you for reading too!
NICE!!!
Yeah I said it. Sue me.
Ah! Why I go sue my oga na, @seun? Hehehehehe. Thanks man, thank you.
If I praise you, I know say ya head go begin swell.
I like the whole story especially the scene that betrayed your lust. Hahahaha. It is a nice and quiet story, worthy of praise to the hand that wrote it.
@alex, thanks for not praising me, I really do not want any hydrocephalic (abi na ‘literacephalic’) explosion o! I am glad you like the story, thanks for your time. God bless you.
I never knew you were this good. I had to go back up to check if it wasn’t a memoir before I opened my eyes tap. Luckily it wasn’t. This is good.
@eletrika, your comment humbles me ma’am for I really do know I can get better. I strive hard for perfection and with every story, I discover perfection is one word a writer might never overcome…
Thanks for reading. God bless you.
I beg,I beg you sabi this thing.No be story na reality-u sabi seriously o @ da engineer u sabi this ting wella!Great work
@sambright, the ‘jazzed’ one! I dey try small small ni o make I fit sabi am pass my senior colleagues on NS and the big boys out there, lollzz. You sef try, man. Thank you for dropping by. God bless you.
good story, splendid writing.
But I don’t think Jehovah Witnesses drop the magazine at one’s door when nobody is around. Nah
@Osakwe, thanks for reading. Yes, some Witnesses drop a mag when they meet your door open but don’t see anyone. This is as against meeting a locked door. Capisce?
“I couldn’t save a life the last time out; but this Christmas, I must rescue a soul.” This sentence is a bullet , really good , equally good story. It is no surprise you won the Xmas competition
Thank you sir. @aghoghosam, well… Na God o!
… well constructed… Da Writing Engineer…
Thank you sir. Thank you.
A simple, straightforward story, @Banky. But I think that you over-described in some places; for example:
I get that you were trying to capture the intensity of the aroma, but what comes across is that the aroma of chicken is as unpleasant as strong insecticide. I would use a simile that created a different image in the head of the reader (maybe “…wafting around our neighbourhood like the pleasant smells in a high-class eatery.”)
Then this:
Again, I didn’t feel that the simile usage was quite right; you want to create the impression of a weight getting gradually heavier in someone’s arms, but someone who was lifting a weight – even a wrongly tagged one – would feel the excessive weight immediately. You could say something like “…in my arms, as though his body had turned to lead”
@TolaO, you have lived up to expectations again. As the first person to ‘bring a knife’ to this piece, I hail you.
Ok, I agree witht he insecticide part, good one. As for the weights part, Tola, we are saying the same thing. Maybe the words I used don’t quite convey the feeling aptly, but it meant to say exactly what you have explained. No, I wouldn’t want to use the ‘lead’ simile, it looks cliched to me.
Thanks man, be sure I’ll take your suggestions and effect them. You have brought some verve to this tiring sunday morning. God bless you.
No problem, @Banky. You’re welcome, indeed.
U know my thoughts on this already…
I do boss… thank you!
@Banky i hail! This was….cant find the word…gripping is one…thought provoking…..it’s good