SUNDAY RENDEZVOUS

Sunday is not a day you look forward to commuting around SE London except you’ve got your own car to twirl around the capital. The horrid experience varies from engineering works to diversion of routes or even terminals shut down disrupting your entire journey. I was the third to show up at the bus-stop, and been standing there for about 45 minutes. Now we got more company including the notorious “9ger” mothers with their king size buggies that stunt double as a carriage for their kids and more irritatingly storage for items they bought in the convenience stores. This makes the pram look like a power bike taking up all the space in the bus. In this borough, it’s common place for buses not to show up on time or even at all on Sundays. You plan to the time schedule of the bus at your own peril. The weather was quite nasty and I was heavily strapped to face it. I wore a hat, tied a scarf around my neck, and wore my thickest jacket. I was starting to lose the battle to the weather when I caught a glimpse of the bus. “Lataaro” one of the “9ger” baby mamas bellowed. I hissed and shook my head. She had been in the bus-stop barely 5 minutes. So I got off the bus and walked down my childhood friend’s neighborhood. He had asked me to come join him this Sunday to worship at his church. I obliged. I hadn’t’ been to a church in over 7 months although I kept abreast with the religion watching BBC ONE Christian themed programmes. They were refreshing, inspiring and always touched me to have a silent moment or two with my creator. That way, I ensured I wasn’t influenced by my atheist housemates, who by the way were very nice people but just didn’t buy into that religion “thingie”. In my own opinion, they were even more morally upright and better behaved than most of us. We gave each other a hug and a pound. Last time I saw him was back in Uni in Accra, Ghana. He had eloped to the UK for greener pastures anew. He was looking good, pristine and of course had developed the British accent. Well almost. “We’re getting late mate, let’s hit the road yea”, he said. So we jumped out and embarked on our journey; Jehovah witness approach I must add. He was looking all crispy; all black everything, from his fitted shirt, to his tailored fit pants and his “wet looks” brogues. Only his earrings and jewelry weren’t black. Richard wasn’t wearing a scarf, a jacket or any fabric to protect him from the cold. I didn’t want to be forward but after a few hundred meters, I had to kill my curiosity. “Are we going to get a jacket from a friend’s place before heading to church?” I quizzed. “Nah don’t be silly mate, down here, we are used to this weather yea”. As we continued our journey, I couldn’t help but notice the goose bumps all over his neck and arms, plus he clinched his fists so as to suggest he wasn’t exactly immune to the weather as he claimed. Then his voice kept getting faint as he kept sniffing, but rather than getting reprimanded for doubting his harsh weather resistant prowess, I opted for saying “pardon” repeatedly because I could barely hear him as time wore on. Finally we got to our destination. Outside the church’s parking lot, Richard was exchanging pleasantries with his friends. He introduced me to each one of them. Their cars had sound systems that left their rear view trembling and lyrics from one of D’banj’s numerous songs bumping out “she wouldn’t leave me alooone, always calling my phoooone, file! Ha!!” I yelled my name each time I got introduced as I shook hands with the lads. It was the only way they could hear me. One of the lads was smoking something that didn’t look exactly like a cigarette and he could barely open his eyelids. “ya right maite” he asked me in a Tesco lorry driver accent. He then offered Richard the jumbo, and Richard didn’t hesitate. He took a couple of long drags of the lighted thing and gave it back to Bob Marley. So we finally entered the church. All the females I could see at the lobby looked trendy. In fact, they were dressed to kill, and from their outfit, majority if not all were eligible to model for the apple bottom brand. I had to snap out of the lustful thoughts starting to creep up on my mind. People on the left side of the lobby were on a queue to drop their jacket for some lady for keeping. So Richard asked me to join the queue and I gladly obliged because the jacket was quite heavy. It didn’t take long before I realized the service wasn’t free of charge. I heard miss jacket keeper say “2 pounds please”, to the lady in front of me. As I gladly joined the queue, so I left it. 2 pounds I thought to myself. I’d rather walk back home chewing on a bar of snickers. I signaled to Richard that we should join the service. He looked bewildered as I was still with my jacket but when I asked if I’d be arrested by Scotland Yard if I didn’t drop it, he moved on. The praise worship was my favorite part of the service. The choir, the band and the songs blew me away and made me realize what I’ve been missing live. The sermon then followed shortly after, which was centered on one thing only. How tithes can propel you to your prosperity in life. He backed up his claim with a story of a poor woman that “sowed a seed” by committing her very last penny as offering in church, and after a few years of trading became a millionaire! It must have been oil bunkering I thought. It was during this period people were busy with their phones, showing off all types of sophisticated gadgets or even sleeping but with a pose the preacher couldn’t detect from the podium. After the sermon, Ushers now came around to collect envelopes they had temporarily dumped on each person’s seat. It must have been the envelope the preacher was referring to when he was talking about sowing a seed or something along that line, scrupulously describing how to fill the form in the envelope depending on the audience’s choice of legal tender. I took a quick glance at the form. It looked like one of those Natwest forms requesting for sort code and account number to initiate a standing order. Swiftly I put the form back in the envelope and gave it back to the usher the way it came. I believe in miracles, but committing to monthly deductions as a student, living in a foreign land with no relatives and no job at the moment isn’t testing but provoking the wrath of God. Then the ushers came around again, this time for the offering. I had on me my ATM card, 2 Pound coin and my bus ticket. As I stretched to drop my widower’s mite, Richard slapped my wrist hard. “Two quid? Are you kidding bruv?” I was disoriented for a minute because I didn’t know what I did wrong. He hastily squeezed a note in my hand and gave me the sign to drop it in the usher’s basket. It was a 5 Pound note. I now realized that offering that 2 Pound coin might sully his reputation in the church. Well, it’s his church, so again I obliged. Soon as the service was over, I was given a welcome form to fill. Every detail I gave was false including my name and bank. I dragged Richard along letting him know I wasn’t interested in the entire “you’re welcome in the name of the lord” shenanigan. Manchester united was about going up against Liverpool in less than an hour. As we walked past the lobby, I directed my gaze at the drop dead gorgeous lady in charge of keeping people’s jacket. Ears plugged, she was reading a novel and didn’t look up. I wondered if she could follow the service from there or even listened to the sermon. I hurriedly walked past the church’s parking lot to realize I was walking alone. When I looked back, Richard had for company two beautiful women. I dragged myself back to meet up with him after they had exchanged digits. “I know you. From Lagos in Nigeria right?” one of the ladies asked in a fake British accent. I wasn’t in the mood, and besides she wasn’t my type. “No, I’m English”, I responded with a straight face. Richard got the message and bid the ladies farewell. “Let’s take a cab bruv”. I didn’t care so long we got home for the match, it was all good. In the car, I had to ask Richard why we took a cab this time around. He didn’t disappoint me with his response. It was all a show for the two ladies he was chatting with earlier. One thing is for sure, I’d stick to my BBC ONE Sunday programmes for now. My GOD is Omnipresent.