OGBANJE WITH THE BLUE EYES

It was deliberate watching that man and his wife go childless for eighteen years. Apart from the frequent beatings and emotional abuse he meted on his wife from the seventh year, I think they did just fine. They were happy, or so it seemed. An exemplary couple who upheld the Christian faith and believed in faith against hope, for a miracle. Their matching outfits, the smiles, and the public display of affection were massive. Oh boy! Humans are the definition of hypocrisy. So hypocritical that no one even saw the pains in their eyes. Especially hers.
Rev Wilfred and Pastor Faith Okoro. Yes, they were clerics in a new Pentecostal mission. The year was 1973 and the time I lived my four hundred and ninetieth lifetime. The Pentecostal mission had started springing up everywhere with a different approach to the conventional teachings of Christendom. Their teaching was more on miracles and faith. The kind of faith they said will move mountains. This new teaching on faith sold more in Enugu. The then capital of the just defunct Biafran state. Do you want to know why it sold to a man with 20 pounds after a three-and-a-half-year war? The answer is simple; they want their 20 pounds multiplied like the fishes and the bread, and so the people were swayed by these teachings of the faith as an alibi to the impending poverty. Their numbers were growing, with the testimonies of veterans of the war who lost limbs growing them back in public crusades. They called this "creative miracle."
This is the kind of hope a people who lost a war needed. Hope and faith is a commodity in religion. It should be sold, like a bottle of beer to a broken man. It was necessitated, and necessity is the mother of all inventions. Religious inventions are inclusive. But I have a problem with the new mission and the things they did to culture. They burned places of worship that are sacred to people, sold the figurines of their gods to white merchants as art, and coerced people into joining their religion.
This is one thing I judge Rev Wilfred guilt of. Religion should be tolerant. But Rev Wilfred's was not. He was known around Enugu as "the great man of God who could burn shrines and uproot demons." I had to punish him, first for calling me and every other spirit in the other realm demons and secondary for burning shrines and turning sacred lands into Churches.
First, I made his wife's food tasteless. The tastelessness of her food bred the tastelessness of their marriage since there were no children to spice it. She became everything he hates. Sour-tasting marriage like the taste of an unripe Udala. Then I made him doubt his god. How could one serve a God who answers him and give children to his congregants but not to him? I listened as he cried every night in his study asking if he has committed any sin to deserve the unfruitfulness. But it was all me. I opened the portals for his congregants and I closed his wife's, until his breaking point. His breaking point will not be to divorce his wife. On which grounds? Barrenness? Where is our man of faith? I sent him in search of answers outside the box of his Pentecostal mission, to Nri where he met a Dibia, Mbogo.
Mbogo, nwa akanya was one of those potent Dibia’s in Nri who came from a linage of dwarfs. Their medicine and charms were for good. They do not kill nor oppress with the gift nature has given them. He recognized Wilfred as the Pastor who had carted away with the figurines from the shrine of Omaliko. An identity Wilfred denied. He got the help he needed and returned to Enugu. Two months later his wife was pregnant.
When it was time for the fetus to have a soul, I possessed its body. They gave birth to me. A daughter, and named me Gift. I remember the night clearly. Wilfred was preaching in a crusade at Okpala Square when he got the news that his wife was in labor. It was the fifteenth minute of an hour and thirty minutes preaching. He didn’t stop preaching he didn’t brief it, rather he sent one of his assistants to take her to the hospital.
That act was insulting. Not to the wife, but to me. That was too callous a decision, so I refused to be born until he came. I didn’t care if his wife died in labor. Human, you have to respect me! He wouldn't have treated any of the big politicians that swarmed Enugu that way. He came two hours later to see his wife groaning in pain. The doctors suggested a C.S and gave him the papers to sign. This man must be the most complacent human father I have ever had. It wasn't hard deciding if I want to stay longer or not.
I was born a girl, with blue eyes, dark skin that shone like the bark of the ebony tree. I remember admiring this human body and the luxury that would come with it. I was obsessed with it. It was the only human body I never violated because of its unique feature. It was so beautiful to be just semen and an egg. I cherished it. I sketched it on my Iyi uwa stones that I buried in the Church premises.
He held me up and smiled. No, he cried, giggled, smiled, laughed, and cried again. In his eyes were all shades of love and compassion. So much passion for family and his god that smeared all over was confusion. I pitied him because I knew his joy would not be complete.
The first week, I did not see the father of the daughter. He was here and there preaching the miraculous power of his God and how he has blessed him with a girl with the bluest eye. A daughter for his years of barrenness. It was appalling. The spirits that be with me were displeased with these. They gave him a child but he ascribed the glory to his god. His wife, Faith did not learn anything. She was swarmed by the joy of having a child. Alas, she was a mother. Everyone would tap into her faith. They would call her mother of faith and long-suffering. But truly she suffered and in the hands of the Pastor she called husband. Cut her some slack, she deserved the flex.
On a Saturday, I saw a lot of animals entering the house. Goats, Chicken, and yams. People were trooping in and out of the house like it was some festivity. "Humans and spilling blood for their festival," I thought. Imagine! Humans take another life for pleasure as if they created it and what marvels me the most is the entitlement with which they approach these things. Their caretaker-like attitude towards this cosmos is frustrating. I was angry with them. I didn't care what the animals were for. I wanted to make everything vanish, but I was in a human form and I had little or no powers but the ability to control the mind of the body I have possessed. A body yet to manifest, talk more of my manifestation.
That night, it rained. And with the pattering of rain and the roaring of thunder, the Spirits that were with me came to me. They were concerned about Wilfred’s continued defiance of the root of his solution. It is a case of a saying that

“when an Idol becomes troublesome, it is reminded of the tree where it was carved from.”
He has ascribed the miracle to his god and will be sacrificing animals to him, but the Shaman who did this miracle was completely ignored. The spirits were angry and so was I. The spirits told me that the parents were to present me to the altar of their god the next day and appreciate him for gifting me to them. I was warned to return that night but I pleaded with the spirits to let me stay a bit longer. At least enough time to teach them a lesson. Of course, spirits are known to be "no-nonsense beings" and their involvement in matters with mortals is that of correction. Wilfred is not the one to change. Not that one. Not any of those ones who believe in a foggy-headed god in the clouds, with the bogus teachings they call revelations which is the perfect definition of deception.
In the morning, I was presented in a Church. Everybody was excited to see me. The choristers must have composed the song they sang but to be frank, is this what they say their god feeds on? That tepid sound? Their God must enjoy boredom.
The parents handed the child to an older man who they knelt before. I observed him closely to notice that his purple robe had thirty-nine buttons and that on his neck and head were a golden crucifix and a skull cap. The kind the jews would wear. His shoe was properly polished that one could see one's reflection on the leather.
He presented me to their altar and made some prayers. The crowd responded with prayers in an unintelligible language that would go for gabbling.

"I Christian you Gift Okoro, in the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit. Like arrows in the quiver of a warrior so shall you be in the hands of our God. You shall be a strong pillar of his Church and God shall cause your coast to expand…."

I detested the parents the more and wanted to leave immediately. I was only staying because that man would Abuse Faith the more and so by staying, I could wipe her shame and save her the abuse. Not like I felt pity and cared. I am a spirit without emotions.
Growing up in that body, they forced me to be religious, to trust in god, and in the power of his might. They told me to have faith in his son Jesus Christ and I will be established. Those times were hard. Being forced to learn a lie is cancerous and I wonder how many humans knew this.
When I turned ten, it was time to go. The usual manner was to develop a strong fever and in the early hours of 3.am, when the portals to both worlds are opened it would be a smooth transition. I developed a fever for days and all they did was pray. A sister in Church had a vision where the devil attacked the Pastor's family. The whole Church plumaged into fasting and prayer. They prayed and never ceased even though the mortal body I wore was sick. It needed a hospital, not a Church.
They kept praying till midnight when the fever died down. They felt that the battle has been won. Humans and their ignorance. I only regulated the body temperature of the human so they would go to sleep and not disturb me with noise when I leave. They slept off only for Faith to wake up 20 minutes after the third hour to find out that her baby was lifeless. She screamed and wailed. It was the most painful night in their lives. I had left the body and so did my Iyi Uwa.
They buried their child and mourned their grief but not Faith who was at the edge of insanity. It is not in my custom to leave broken mothers when I leave. It is just the frailty of human nature to be untrue to itself.
I visited Wilfred in his dream and showed him his mistakes but he didn’t listen. I made him understand how jealous spirits can be and how they can go any mile to break you when you fail them. This was between myself and him. He didn’t tell his wife. He better not, or he can if he wants her to heal. You owe a woman the truth.