False gods #2

False gods

Read Also: False gods #1

Chapter 2: Sodom in Heaven

Last night was calm and the sky was like a dome of plasma-blue. This morning was wet and cold, as the clouds spat out their beads of water. The roofs of cars danced as the splattering continued and the murmuring sound of the rain could only be compared to the buzzing of angry bees. Asari laid asleep on the king-size bed, in one of the guest rooms of pastor Winnerman’s mansion, obviously blessing the rain. The serenity here was delightful save the sound of the downpour. A sudden succession of shrill rings cut the silence. He woke up startled and quickly turned off his alarm which read 7am. Instead of mulling over the nightmare he was having, he picked up his bible to read and say his prayers. Afterwards, he joined the Winnerman family for breakfast.

It had stopped raining and bright rays could be spotted under the dark clouds. The dining room, far too large for the family of four, was quite exquisite. The walls were covered in a shimmering gold paper and a huge mahogany table stood in the centre. The recurrent clanking of plates coupled with the aroma of grilled chicken filled the air. Seated at the table, were Asari, Pastor Winnerman and the other members of his family. “Uncle Asari, could you please show us some of your football skills today, before going back home?” 10-year-old John asked. After laughing out his heart, Asari replied jokingly, “They are not exactly skills, I’m a god of football, so it’s in my DNA”. “Ahhh…You wish son”, retorted Pastor Winnerman. An uproar of laughter rocked the table, exploding like a bomb, filling the air and spilling out into the morning sunshine.

It was like every other afternoon except for the intense heat. It was only 1pm but an unusual dense traffic was already building up on the highway. Both automobiles and pedestrians alike interrupted the free flow. Pastor Winnerman hated the traffic so much and always joked about getting a helicopter but he loved having Asari with him. Few minutes later, we were on our way to the church. “Ermm, Asari,” he called. “Let’s take a little detour along the way. I have a meeting with a mutual friend of ours”. Mutual friend? Pastor had said these words with an air of mischief, I steadied myself for the usual. Nevertheless, I was certainly used to what came next. The nods of approval, the familiar smiles Pastor got from the staff of this prestigious four-star hotel exposed the truth of his regular visits. He was usually here alone for his “retreats”. “Asari!” Winnerman said, rather too sternly. “You’re a sharp guy, abi?” I replied with a nod in the affirmative as he walked into a room tagged 129 while I returned to the lobby.

I was now Winnerman’s Chief Protocol Officer, a position many people would kill for. It came with a lot of perks like owning a new apartment in Lekki, a car of my own and regular visits to Pastor’s mansion. Life’s good. When you roll with the man in charge the way I now do, all his friends become your friends, all his secrets become yours to keep, all his dotty ways might keep you up at night, but you must stay mute no matter what. I was now his confessor, nothing happened without my knowledge; the night clubs, the alcohol, the illegal business, the women etc. I actually envied pastor Winnerman. He had a former model for a wife and 2 lovely kids. The story of David and Bethsheba came to mind as I sipped from my glass of champagne. One could only hope his story won’t end the same way.

The afternoon heat gave way to a humid temperature this evening, as clouds swirled about like gauzy curtains in the sky. Oma sat on the settee of an extravagantly furnished living room. Placed in a willy-nilly manner on the centre table were an Apple MacBook Pro, a flash drive, some Shakespearean literature, two notebooks, some pens and a small bible. She looked very pale and very tired. “What’s wrong with my brother? He keeps avoiding me these days. He goes out every night with Pastor, comes back drunk.  I need to confront him today.” She declared loudly.

Taking giant strides down the sidewalk, leading to my front door, I felt like a bird. I loved hanging out with Winnerman but I valued my freedom more. I was back in my own space. Few hours later, a knock on my door startled me. Hearing my big sister’s voice, I hurriedly threw the porn magazine on my bedside under the bed. “Oma, I’m busy at the moment. Anything I can help you with?” I asked as I opened the door. Getting seated, she stared into space a while before saying, “young man, what is wrong with you? Since I came, you’ve been acting strange.” Feigning ignorance, I replied dryly, “I don’t get you. I’m very fine”. Seeing defiance in my eyes, she was taken aback but then, got her composure in control. She continued, “Don’t you dare play these games with me. You always hang with that pastor but it seems you’re more carnal than a pornstar. I still don’t know how you got this wealth.” My eyes blazed like a fiery furnace. “Oh my God! Can’t you all just give me a break? You all wanted me to succeed. At least, thank God things have changed. I’m not your baby. Please, leave me be.” I yelled. Baffled, she searched my face for remorse but found nothing. Then she muttered,” I just want you to be careful in this wild jungle of Babylon. That’s all!” and quietly stepped out of the room.


“Asari!” Winnerman called, “I know this is all strange to you but with time you’d get used to it.”  I was practically in shock. How could a pastor be talking about homosexuality? “No pastor, I can’t engage in such. This must be a dream. I trusted you. Noooooooo!!!” I woke up panting, cold sweat all over my body. Thank God I was dreaming. “Devil, Get behind me. You can’t deceive me using my pastor’s face.” I said out loud. I hurried out of the house, slammed the door, leaving a fissure at the door hinges. Still in shock of my recent experience, depressed and somewhat relieved, I walked through the inky darkness of the mid-August night, heading for nowhere in particular. Seriously, who am I?  I wondered.


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