“Oh, your mother is really evil,”
I shuddered. Mom had been this prayerful Christian—what really changed?
“Hahaha. Your mother is back home conniving with the devil—”
I was lost. How could she possibly be conniving with the devil, when—” I remembered Baba. Is Baba at our house?
“Kneel down!” Minister Ubaka yelled. “Kneel down!” he shouted again.
I knelt down and looked up at him. He opened the bottle of olive oil and poured its content on my head, letting it pour down. “That native doctor you went to see… hahaha! His time is up!” he began rubbing my forehead with his hand, as he laughed and shook me on the floor. I was starting to feel dizzy from the exercise, though I remained strong. Whatever Baba did to me, I needed it to be removed.
“What do you mean by Mama is conniving with the devil in our house…?” I wanted to ask.
“Oh… Jesus!!! Jesus!!!” Minister Ubaka started shouting.
“I will not let you free the boy,” a voice said.
I opened my eyes and saw Mom and the native doctor standing beside my husband; Mom was dressed in red—a gown that reached her toes, while Baba was half naked.
“Mom, what did I do to you?”
“This is not your fight, Habibat!” she slammed her foot on the floor, and looked at Baba. “Do to him whatever you want.”
Everyone gathered around me, including Minister Ubaka, started speaking in tongues.
“No! No, he is mine…!”
“Mom…” I was too weak to pray. I could only watch as light and darkness wrestled—something I’d never seen.
Mom blew up in flames before my eyes, after much prayers, and Baba Iyati roared and disappeared into the ground. It was as though everything that was going on was being played on a screen. Only that it was happening for real. . .It was very real. Mom’s burnt flesh laid on the floor.
“H-Habibat?” Amos called sanely. He looked at the chains he was bound in, and at me, making heavy tears drop from my eyes.
“A-Amos?” I couldn’t believe it. I rushed towards him, and crouched beside him. Pastor Vincent instructed for the chains to be removed.
“The Lord has done it!” Pastor Vincent praised.
“He has done it again. . .Yes, he has—” I put my arms around Amos and smiled joyfully.
A year had gone by since Mom died and Amos and I got back together. We were living happily as a family. With Jenna. Henry. The twins. And sometimes Dad who came to visit. Things were going well, though I wished it wouldn’t have been this way, with Mom not in the picture. Mom took a different path. A path never meant for someone who called herself a ‘true’ Christian. Amos had known about everything, thanks to me. I spared no details, telling him what had transpired between Baba and me, and how temporary mad he had gone. He was dumbfounded on hearing it all. I doubted if he was ever going to forgive me, but he did. Things were going well for the both of us, that I wished we’d never have to drift apart.
“Here’s your food, honey,”…it had seemed like a dream. The sound the tumbler made—that clinking sound—made me realize it was all ‘real’.
“Hon, what’s this?” I smiled, as I asked.
“Don’t tell me you forgot?” He arched his brows at me, and I laughed.
He reminded, “Today is the day I asked you to marry me. May 23rd.”
I remembered. I was blushing all this while, staring down at the tray, fingers itching to check what Amos had in store.
“Don’t forget to pray first,”
I was surprised he said the ‘P’ word. “You said ‘pray’?”
He winked at me, and got up from beside me.
It was true Amos and I had had so many ups and downs. But we were getting to stay without any disagreements. And even getting to know each other… pretty well. Hm. I wonder what happened to Baba 🤔🤔
~Married To An Atheist 😁
It really brought out a lot 😌
…coming soon 😁😘😍
Thanks for following to the very end of this part 🤗 Logging out to prepare for the next 😊 THANKS FOR READING MY STORY ONCE MORE 😘