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Sex Lifeis an anonymous Zikoko weekly series that explores the pleasures, frustrations and excitement of sex in the lives of Nigerians.
The subject of today’s Sex Life is a 31-year-old woman who didn’t have sex until her wedding night. She talks about how her relationship with God was why she waited till marriage, and how she married, to have sex.
Tell me about your first sexual experience
When I was 12, I had this neighbour who was a year older than me. We grew up together, so I used to go to his house daily. On one of such days, he played a CD that turned out to be porn. We watched for a bit, and then started making out. It happened three to four times over the span of a couple of months.
Did it ever progress past kissing?
It never did.
Why?
I’m a very religious Christian and waiting till marriage is my service to God. I wasn’t saving myself for a man; I was just doing what God wanted me to do.
In fact, in my university, people were taking a “covenant of purity”, but I didn’t because I thought it was unnecessary. Most of the people who were taking the covenant weren’t even serious about it. After they took the covenant, you could see them getting hot and heavy in corners. For me, waiting till marriage was about honouring God, and I knew I didn’t need a covenant to do that. I waited for the right time, but it wasn’t easy.
I tried to date only Christians, but I realised not every Christian was interested in saving themselves till marriage. When I dated those men and made out with them, I felt a little guilty, but the guilt was never overwhelming.
My relationship with God is a very loving one, so I spoke to Him a lot about the temptations I felt. I reminded myself of Christ’s work for me and how the life I live actually belongs to Him. I learnt about Jesus from the point of a Father, not just as a Lord and Master, even though He is.
So, did you stick to it?
Yes, I did! The first time I had sex was on my wedding night at 27. It almost didn’t even happen because we were both exhausted. Before then, many of my friends who had already gotten married shared stories about their wedding night with me. Some said they couldn’t have sex until months after, and I said it would not be me. I refuse!
But the wedding day came, and there was so much going on, we were so exhausted. It was so bad that we couldn’t even stay more than 30 minutes at the after-party our friends organised for us. When we got to the hotel, we just had our baths and dozed off. That’s when one strange breeze blew, and we were awake. Next thing, we were having sex.
Just like that? What was the sex like?
The sex was amazing. It was a bit painful because it was my first time, but he was gentle and soft. It made the experience incredibly intimate. He asked questions and I guided him on what worked and what didn’t.
Of course not. There was even a time I had to stop going to his house for three months because the temptation was choking us. Looking at each other and spending a lot of time together was making it harder.
However, it wasn’t as bad because we wanted the same things. Unlike me, he wasn’t a virgin, but he was celibate in his last relationship and wanted to wait with me in this one. We checked each other and knew when not to go too far and when not to be alone.
I like to joke that we got married so we could have sex. We were everything without the need for marriage. He was my companion and soulmate. The only thing missing was sex. That’s why after a year and ten months, we dragged ourselves to the altar.
Love it. How’s the sex now?
I’m having so many orgasms. There’s something so special about having sex with someone you love, someone who always wants you to be satisfied. It’s magic.
Do you ever wish you didn’t wait?
Not at all! I’m a very emotional person, and sex can be very vulnerable. I wouldn’t want to share that part of myself with just anyone.
So, on a scale of 1-10, what’ll you rate your Sex Life?
One million. I’m having the time of my life. I’ve been having sex with the same person for four years, but it feels like magic each time. I love it.
Thanks to the increasing conversation around wellness and self-care, the reawakening of charismatic Christianity and books like “Think and Grow Rich”, “The Secret”, “The Law of Attraction” and “The Power of Positive Thinking”, the idea of “manifesting your dream future” is gaining waves around the world, especially post-COVID-19 lockdown. A practice that’s vaguely Christian at times, pagan other times, what is “manifestation”, does it work and is it the Nigerian secret to success or the bane of our existence?
What does it mean to manifest?
No, it’s not to show signs of demon possession. The basic definition of “manifestation” is using your thoughts, feelings and/or beliefs to bring something to physical reality; the “conscious creation” of circumstances that lead to a fulfilling life. You may think it’s a variation of more common religious practices like praying or meditating. And you would be correct; manifestation goes hand in hand with spirituality after all. However, while it is based on science and inspires most religious beliefs, many approaches have turned manifestation into a pseudoscience.
There are several approaches to manifesting. People use affirmations, chants, prayers, special “angel” numbers, scripts, lightwork or they just daydream for hours. Special objects, associated with ethnic cultures, like crystals, cowries, relics, sigils, rosary, etc. also feature in many manifestation routines, as well as psychedelics. But what was once a way to raise our vibrations and connect to the universe has become a means of escaping work and responsibility.
It seems all the average citizen can do these days is hope for a better future than their present. So of course, many have turned to “manifesting” as a way to accomplish something they have no control over when they’re powerless to make any real change. All you need are your dreams and a strong creative mind to imagine how nice it would be if, no, when, they come true. Perhaps it is better than the previous generation’s penchant to “settle” and be content.
Great, right? So what’s the downside?
Well, even Christianity says “faith without works is dead”. Manifestation compels you to stay positive and the universe to align with your positivity. But the last, important element most forget is “doing”. When you believe you can get your dream job, for example, instead of worrying about it, or focusing on the many reasons you can’t get it, you work hard to get into a good school, get all the scholarships you need to do that and get an excellent grade to be qualified for the particular job. Then you gain even more positivity to aspire to higher levels. “Where your focus goes, energy flows”, or so Tony Robbins famously said.
When you believe your country will be great again, you work hard to get all the qualifications and exposure you need to navigate politics, engage in community service at the grassroots level, maybe research the demographic so you can make the moves that matter, build a viable political party or get into an existing one, and work your way up. Nigerians, however, do not truly believe Nigeria will be great again, not in their generation anyway. One might say that’s why our prayers and manifestation haven’t worked so far. The Nigerian dream is to successfully leave Nigeria for good.
Final words on manifestation
Some manifestation guides suggest that believing in something creates it. Many religious leaders encourage us to “pray without ceasing” and believe. Not much is said for action. On the other hand, the science-based approach says that if we truly believe we can achieve something, we are willing to put in the work to achieve it. Manifestation takes work. To manifest the dream life, we need to believe we can have it, feel strongly enough to be persistent, and ultimately, do the things and behave in the way that will bring the outcomes we desire.
In October 2016, I and my girlfriend at the time spent a week together at my house. We had not seen each other in three months so we spent most of our time indoors, catching up. We talked about the books we read in our time apart, about feminism and food. We washed and braided each other’s hair while listening to Asa blasting from my small Bluetooth speakers. I enjoyed spending time with her, but every night, after her bath, just before she went to bed, she’d always slip away to pray.
In the corner of my room, she’d sit facing the wall for some privacy between her and her God. She’d read through a devotional supplemented with her bible, then sing along to a Christian music playlist on her phone before kneeling to pray. I would remain on the other side of the room, ears listening, curious. Her prayers weren’t short like mine. It had layers and layers. She’d thank God for his goodness in her life and her family’s, then ask him for her heart’s desires. She also prayed for forgiveness of sins and interceded for those around her. Sometimes, I heard my name in these prayers. When I did, I would pause to acknowledge that God was possibly looking at me, watching me sin. It felt good though, to know someone other than my parents was praying for me. I never prayed past two minutes so I was in awe of how dedicated she was to worshipping a god she could not see.
On her third night with me, the prayers got intense — her voice was louder and she was speaking in tongues. She cried like she was in pain. The hair on my arms rose and goosebumps grew out of my skin. I would have left the room, but I wanted to be sure she was okay. I crushed the butt of my cigarette and tried to focus on the article I was reading but her words pushed their way into my ears with the same force they escaped her mouth. I did not realise that I was holding my breath until she stopped praying.
“Are you okay?” she asked, putting her bible and devotional away. I described how I felt to her and she recognised it as fear.
“You don’t know God, that’s why you’re scared of him.”
She was wrong — I did know God.
*
My parents grew up in Muslim households. They went to Arabic schools and fasted religiously during Ramadan. They were both raised to see Allah as supreme. Love brought them together in their twenties. When my mother noticed things were getting serious between them, she shared her biggest secret at the time with my dad — she was a Christian. She told him how her father caught her one day coming from charismatic lessons and warned her to never try it again. This did not kill her belief in Jesus Christ. She told my father that if he was serious about marrying her, he had to allow her to practise the religion of her heart. My father was baffled that it was even a problem. It’s a story she tells me with pride, a story about love and God’s plan. Their children would choose the religion they wanted, but along the line, that changed.
My siblings and I had Sunnahs, where rams were slaughtered to mark the seventh day of our births. We didn’t go to Arabic school, but I have vague memories of prayers in my early childhood being a repeated sequence of standing, sitting on my haunches, bowing with my forehead to the ground while mumbling words I didn’t understand — I was merely imitating my father. I remember watching him count his tesbiu and wondering when I would get mine. As I grew older, this was replaced with rides to St Paul’s Catholic Church, stuffed in the backseat with my landlord’s teenage daughters. We all wore long dresses with scarves, no arms and no legs.
At church, prayer was different. I understood what was being said, but the monotony of rituals remained. When the priest walked in with his flowing white gown and red scarf, we had to stand to acknowledge his presence. There was a lot of standing during the service. We also had communion, but only those with “grace” could receive it. Listening to the choir sing Amazing Grace sonorously soothed me, but I always wondered what it meant to be filled with grace.
After my sister’s Sunnah, she had her christening in a pentecostal church we eventually settled in. She was named “Faith” by the pastors, a name I refuse to regard as hers. Faith, the assurance of things hoped for, the conviction of things not seen — a concept that continues to evade me.
In this new church, the men of God did not wear gowns. They wore suits and spoke with authority. I could wear trousers, which I felt more comfortable in, to this holy house. During the first school holiday as a member of the church, my mum enrolled my siblings and I at the vacation bible school, where I met other kids in my age group. Together, we learnt about Abraham and God’s promise to him, Joseph and his coat of many colours, Moses and the Red sea, David and his psalms, Solomon and his God-given wisdom, and Jesus and his parables. I graduated second position in my class, and my mother bragged about it. The same way she bragged that her pastors were not miracle-obsessed like many pentecostal churches. A friend of hers would joke about how the members were nothing like their pastors though.
The members were nosy middle-class Nigerians who kept asking questions about my father. Was my mum married? Why didn’t he come to church? How do they cope? Do they fight about it? She answered them earnestly, “His rules were simple. No night vigils. No abandoning your family for church programmes.”
During Ramadan, she wakes up before 5 to prepare Sahur for him, and at night, she slices his favourite fruits into a bowl with which he breaks his fast. She makes elaborate meals to celebrate Eid with him. In 2010, they travelled together to Mecca. They both returned with gold teeth and new titles. She told her pastors before doing these things like she was seeking permission. As a child, my father would tell me that they served the same God, just with different names and modes of worship, but as I grew older, I began to doubt that.
One night just before I went off to boarding school, I saw Jesus. I had just finished dinner with my cousin and we were sitting together watching a popular pastor cast out demons from a member of his congregation on TV. The choir was singing in the background, asking the power of the Lord to come down. I remember wondering why we were not watching cartoons. The electricity current was low so the living room was dark save for the light from the TV screen. I was uncomfortable with the way the pastor pushed the little girl’s head around. Was the demon going to crawl out of her like in Nigerian movies? He covered her head with a white handkerchief and when she fell, I saw Jesus. A white man with gold streaked hair covering his face, dressed in all white, standing among the congregation just staring. He looked just like the painting of Jesus Christ in the Catholic church I grew up going to. I screamed and jumped into my cousin’s arms shivering. She kept asking what the problem was, but words failed me. Looking back, he was probably just a white man with long hair, but I had seen so many pictures and statues of Jesus that I was convinced that the man I saw on television had to be Jesus witnessing his servant do his good work. The incident bore my fear for Christianity. To today, whenever I hear, “Let the power of the Lord come down,” I fight the urge to run away.
When I was 8, I was sent to a Christian faith-based secondary school. It was founded by a well-known Pentecostal church. My mother thought it was the best option when compared to federal or missionary same-sex schools. My father had no objections. It was a mixed school but the boys and the girls did not see each other without supervision. We woke up every morning by 4:30, and after our baths, we went to church for an early service to set the day straight. We said a short prayer before breakfast, and afterwards, we had another quick bible service just before school started. The Gospel was integrated into everything we did. Each class started with prayers. After dinner, we had a prayer session just before prep class, which also ended with prayers. Then, we rinse and repeat. On Wednesdays, three of our classes were replaced with bible study, and after school, we ’d go to the main church for more bible study and prayers. On Fridays, we had a special service before dinner where the drama unit would stage a play. Saturdays were usually my best days because they were the most relaxed, but then, there was Sunday anxiety. Sundays came with a two-hour bible study before the main five-hour service. Every first Sunday of the month, we’d fast for the first few hours. It was torture considering that every first Saturday was visiting day. I could never get used to having too much to eat and not eating it. I’d start off fasting but before the service was over, I was already snacking on a chocolate bar I got the day before.
During most services, we were reminded of hell fire, that we would perish if we didn’t give our lives to Christ. I answered altar calls several times. As a born again, you are now covered with grace, no longer of the world. Telling lies, using cuss words and listening to worldly music was unacceptable. I fell out of grace every other day, but what bothered me the most was speaking in tongues. At bible school, I was taught that you had to be filled with the Holy Spirit to speak in tongues. I wanted to experience that.
One time, during evening service, the pastor asked those of us who had never been filled with the Holy Spirit to come forward with our hands outstretched in front of us. He pleaded with God to fill us with his spirit. After the prayers, he told us that all we had to do was speak. I spoke, but the tongues were stuck in my throat. I watched as my friends were kabashing and rolling on the ground in religious glee. When I asked my friend, she told me that she did not fully understand it herself. I wondered what they were doing right that I wasn’t. I refused to believe that God had skipped me, and I didn’t want to fake it. I worried about it until I attended my first deliverance service. People do absurd things when they catch the Holy Spirit. Some would prance around the room feverishly murmuring prayers. Others would freeze, fall to the ground shaking like they were convulsing. Sometimes, somebody would scream so loud I would still hear it in my head weeks after. To not be in control of my body is not an experience I want, so I decided being filled with the holy spirit wasn’t something I was okay with.
The older I grew, the more questions I had. I realised that I had never prayed anything into existence. In fact, most of the things I deliberately prayed for did not actualize, so I had to settle for God’s perfectly timed plan. I’ve never had a situation bend for me in that miraculous way that Christians talk about. Sometimes, I wished I could believe that because I did certain things, God would consider my desires over those who did not practice these same things.
That night, listening to my friend cry her eyes out, I hoped that he was listening to her and he would do as she wanted. When she lost her mother some months later, I wondered if it was part of his big plan. She kept believing though, and it scared me. Her unwavering belief made me think of faith as a superpower — something people like me, with questions where reverence should be, didn’t possess. Whenever I meet someone who is deep in their belief, I avoid them.
University was my chance to be free from religion. I spent my Sundays reading books or sleeping, recovering from all the strain I had been through over the years. I lived alone outside the university campus, so it was easy for me to not have anything to do with the church or the mosque. I was in awe of my friends who would wake up early by themselves, and dress up to go to church. If it was a new month, they would return with taglines from their pastors, uttering them at the slightest chance. The enthusiasm baffled me. Sometimes, they forced me to go to church with them. When I did, it was simply an excuse to socialize. A place to go before the main outing. While there, I had to caution myself to not scoff when the pastor was preaching. I reminded myself that even though the pastor may be interpreting the bible to fit his own narrative, I didn’t know enough to counter him. Eventually, I stopped entertaining any invites to church because it did nothing for me.
I have gone from believing in the possibility that God exists to questioning the reality of that chance. There’s a story of three blind men, my mum told me when I was a child. The men met an elephant on a walk, but because they were blind, they weren’t sure what was in their way. They used their hands to feel this strange thing. One of them said it felt smooth so it was fine wood. Another said it was rough like the bark of a tree, while the last one was convinced it was a tree because of the trunk he could feel. This story explains how I feel about religion today. I believe in the supernatural, that there are forces beyond us and that the ideas we have of these forces are incomplete. Thinking about that gap teaches me that every religion is valid because it’s conceptualised from the understanding each group has of God, like the three blind men.
My philosophy is that the world is too big — different people with their thought patterns influenced by their culture, religion and environment — to believe that there is only one way to do anything. Things happen beyond anyone’s control; wishes and prayers do nothing. I would rather hope that when something bad happens to me, I have the strength to move on from it than to entrust myself to any of the gods.
How easy or difficult is it to reconcile being queer with being religious, especially if the said religion is homophobic? This is something I have always been curious about, so I put out a call for stories. I got a large number of responses, but I had to narrow the final ones down to nine.
These 9 stories highlight the fears, difficulties, doubts and triumphs of being queer and religious in Nigeria. I am grateful to everyone who shared their stories. I hope these stories move you as much as they moved me.
Afusat.
*Image used for illustrative purposes.
I am a Muslim and my faith is a part of my identity just like my queerness is. I don’t think it would be fair to erase a part of myself for another part to ‘flourish’. There are times I feel anxious and sad but choosing to accept myself and trust Allah always makes me feel better. I am still a Muslim and I always want to be. I know that sometimes it may get difficult as there are people who use religion as an excuse to be homophobic, but I always remember that Allah is The Most Gracious, The Most Merciful, and The Most Loving. He created me so He must understand all my paths. Day by day, I am learning to love myself anew. I am hoping to make more queer friends because I think having a community really helps. I also want to be more involved with the Muslim community because it feels good to know that you are loved for who you are. I am hoping that more parents love their queer children. I have not told my parents yet. I don’t know if I will ever tell them. I just want to live my life truthfully every day no matter what that looks like.
Demola.
I’m Catholic, but I’m not religious. I go to church when I’m with my parents or when I absolutely have to. But if I had the power to choose, I wouldn’t even watch if it was online. So for me, this means that I pick certain things and leave the rest. The Catholic church doesn’t support abortion. I do. The Catholic church says no to divorce. I do. I believe in the presence of God, I just don’t follow the ways He’s being served.
I think I’ve always been aware of my queerness, but I have just come to the acceptance that I am a queer person who believes in God. I’m able to function with both. I pray when I can, I read my Bible. It wasn’t always like this though. When I was younger, I was active in church and reconciling faith with queerness was difficuIt. I felt like I was putting up a performance, and I would always beat myself up.
Now, I think I’m good. I don’t stress myself anymore. Anywhere belle face, we move. I am a bad bitch and I also believe in God. This life is one, please. I really like church though. The choir is beautiful. I love praise and worship. But I know how all of my work as a Christian and the things I’ve done in the church can change if they simply find out the tiniest detail about my sexuality. Sometimes, it’s a bit confusing, but it is what it is.
Ebenezer.
Reconciling my faith with my sexuality has gone through a series of evolution. In my teenage years, I thought I would get over it. This was when I was being taught that everyone has a cross to bear. I thought my sexuality was my own cross and that if I carried it well, I would be found worthy of God’s love. Then there was the time I thought celibacy was the answer. I saw celibacy as a middle ground between my sexuality and my faith. I thought I could be gay and still be a Christian, and that all I needed to do was to remain celibate.
*Image used for illustrative purposes.
I was the President of my campus fellowship for two years (300 and 400 level). Prior to the appointment, I had already taken the celibacy vow, and as someone who has never had sex with a guy before, I thought I could keep at it. It was during my time as a President of a fellowship that I began seeking answers for myself on how to navigate being gay and being a Christian. I came across a couple of books on this, and it made me know that the translation and interpretation of the bible are political and for the purpose of control. Now I don’t believe in the absoluteness of the bible. I don’t believe the Bible is perfect and that every scripture there was wholly inspired by God. Man will always filter the scripture through his own biases and people have been doing that for centuries. I don’t think the Holy Spirit wrote the Bible. I believe men did and men are flawed and short-sighted and will tend to infect the purity of God’s word with their own shortcomings and biases.
Now, my Christian faith is anchored on the two greatest commandments Christ gave which are “Love your God with all your heart” and “Love your neighbor as yourself.” According to Christ, all other commandments are contained within these two. As a gay Christian, all I need to do is to walk in love.
I have fallen in love with a guy and there’s nothing purer than that and it will be a travesty to say that the love I feel for him is not of God because all the characteristics of love as contained in 1 Corinthians 13 are present in the love I feel for this guy. Even if I hadn’t fallen in love, I am made to know by the scriptures that I am wonderfully and fearfully made and that God saw my unformed body since when I was in the womb and all the days ordained for me does He know. I am of God and like I always say to myself, God cannot be boxed into a cage. He is the source of diversity because he is vast and beyond categories.
Grace.
I stopped going to my parents’ church in 2019 because there was so much misogyny and hatred for anyone they consider different from them. The doctrine was based on fear and paranoia and I wanted no part of it. It was around the same time I started questioning Christianity as a faith and the clear sexism and homophobia. I didn’t know how to reconcile it so I just stopped identifying as a Christian. Late last year, I went to my sister’s church and it was nice. Worship was great, I always cry during worship, I love it so much. So I’ve been going sometimes. Not every week, just when I feel like it.
But then some weeks ago, the pastor started talking about how the rainbow was God’s promise to the earth and that it doesn’t belong to the LGBTQ community. And then he said everybody should pray to push back “darkness” and I just sat there, confused and so hurt. To me, it’s like, you say that this god created me and he loves me right? But then you turn around and say I am of darkness because I like girls the same way I like boys? It made no sense. Everybody around me was speaking in tongues and screaming and I just sat there. So confused. I couldn’t even pray. Right now, I think I’m in limbo again, I don’t know if I can go back there.
Kazim.
I started easing into my sexuality around 2019. I grew up in a typical Muslim home so it was a really, really confusing period for me. My sexuality makes sense to me, my religion makes sense to me and I don’t think I can deny myself of who I am because of my religion neither do I think I can renounce my religion because of my sexuality. At first, this acceptance of myself was confusing because queerness is practically against all the teachings of my religion. A man is not supposed to lay with another man, blah blah blah but fuck it, I didn’t choose to be gay. Honestly, I feel like there’s something we’re not understanding about the whole concept of God Vs Sexuality. The doubts still creep in sometimes but all in all, I’ve found a way to juxtapose these two things and I have no problem whatsoever with either of them. For the time being, I’ll just be the gayest version of myself and live my life according to my principles. The afterlife will sort itself out.
*Image used for illustrative purposes.
Isaac.
Being gay and Christian can be hard, especially when your parents are ministers in the church and you are effeminate. It has affected my faith a lot; I feel God’s love and I know it for myself, but during devotions, sermons, I hear that I am going to hell and I doubt the love I feel for myself and begin to ask for forgiveness. It’s draining.
I told a couple of pastors and people that I was queer, the next thing I knew was that I become a project for them. They began to treat me like a special candidate and policed my life. Self-acceptance as a Christian is very hard. I love the Lord, and I believe that in the circle of life, there is no such thing as a mistake. If the Bible says I am fearfully and wonderfully made, then there is nothing any man says that will change that fact. My escape from all the troubles around me is worship. Difficult as it might be, I am not going to live in condemnation of what a person says and all the subtle homophobic slurs. I am a believer and that’s on period.
Seun.
Before I even knew or understood what being queer was, I had been told it was wrong and that all homosexuals would go to hell. Back then, it didn’t really bother me because I had no idea of my sexuality or sexuality in general. I was just a young child doing what he was told and following his parents to church. But then I turned 12 and I had a brief stint in school. I told my parents about it because I was scared and confused, and in response, they gave me a good lashing and told me to go to my room and pray to God for forgiveness. They also changed me from a boarder to a day student in a school closer to home so they could monitor me closely and so I wouldn’t be influenced by the “evil boys” from my last school.
In the years that followed till I got to int university at 17, it was a dark time for me and a constant battle with myself and the person I was told God wanted me to be which was a heterosexual man. During that period, I gave my life to Christ too many times, went on several fasts and prayers all on my own because I had no one to talk to about it. I couldn’t tell my parents because I knew they would make it worse and I had no siblings so it was just me, God, and my internalized homophobia. It was really tough, but I couldn’t even consider suicide because I was also told that those who did went to hell so that scared me off.
Eventually, I became certain about myself and my sexuality, but in return, I became agnostic because I came to believe that religion doesn’t care much for those who do not believe in it or who do not believe completely. Last year, during a church service in school, a girl came out to share her testimony of how she was delivered from being gay and that service was a lot. First, the chaplain stopped the service and made her the message for the day. He then called out to other people to come for prayers, and all it was just a whole lot to deal with. After that service, I started to get really depressed about my sexuality again. Corona happened and because of the lockdown, I had to stay in Lagos with my aunt and her family for a few months before I could go home to my parents.
Staying with my aunt’s family was good for me because even though they are Christians, they are liberal, different from the conservative Christians I have always known. They explained God to me in a different light and answered some of the questions I’ve had about religion. This made a huge difference for me because I was starting to resent the whole idea of God and religion. Now I’ve decided to believe in God for myself.
This has helped me a lot. Now, I am a lot more secure in myself and my sexuality. I know a lot of people would argue about it, but if God made me queer then He made no mistake beacuse He is incapable of making mistakes. He made me with love and I am a walking embodiment of that love.
I’m not saying everything’s fixed. No, it’s far from that. There are still some days when all the religious hate gets to me, and as much as I am secure in myself and my faith, I still have some questions I would like answers to. I know now that spirituality is a journey and through it all, I can rest assured that God loves me.
Chi-Chi.
I am a very spiritual person and I know God created man and woman, but I have refused to confront my queerness because I feel like I am scared of what I am going to discover. I have not gone to the Bible to conduct research on it or whatnot, but sometimes, I think about the “natural” order of things. If I eventually confront it and do my research, it’s either I realize that religion is a sham and what the Bible says is not a foolproof guide to living. I cannot do away with the Bible. It is impossible. I don’t want to let go of the faith I know and the God I recognise.
*Image used for illustrative purposes.
But then again, I cannot stop feeling how I feel towards girls, and this is something I did not choose. Something I cannot stop. When people say you choose to be this way, feel that way, I feel like they don’t completely get it. I don’t look at girls and tell myself, “Oya, start feeling something for her.”
And so, I keep pushing away this confrontation, and living in denial, running away from the reality that I feel how I feel and that I also love God. I am scared of what answers I might arrive at.
Lawrence.
I’ve been aware of my queerness as far back as JSS1, and it became clearer in secondary school. But as the awareness grew clearer, the Christian guilt got heavier on me. In university, my Christianity got stronger and each time I considered my sexuality, I felt the guilt weigh me down. Each time I tried to become closer to God, queerness felt like the hindering block to attaining that level of spirituality. I always felt incomplete, lacking one last quality that would never go away.
In my final year, I had sex with someone and the guilt was so strong I never spoke to the person again, neither did I try to interact with any queer person. For like 7 years, I tried to live a ‘straight’ life. I refused to have sex or have any interaction with queerness. But throughout this time, the queerness was undeniably present. I just did not give it a voice or act on it. I wished it away, suppressed it, and let the guilt eat me up. My spirituality and my queerness felt like opposites. At one point, I wanted to stop being a Christian, but I did not know how to not be a Christian. It was too ingrained in my life.
My liberation came when it dawned on me one day that God actually loves me and He hasn’t given me any reason to think that He doesn’t love me or has stopped loving me. That was the switch that flipped: becoming aware of God’s love for me and basking in it. As I became more comfortable, the burden of guilt reduced.
This doesn’t mean that it’s completely gone though. It resurfaces once in a while. But I am refusing to let it have another hold on me. Seven years after suppressing my queerness to feel complete and acceptable to God, I vocally admitted it to someone, “Yes, I am gay”, and saying it for the first time, I felt no shame or guilt. Instead, I felt loved, whole.
What does life look like for Gen Z Nigerians everywhere in the world? Every Friday, we ask five Gen Z Nigerian students one question in order to understand their outlook of life.
Religion is a big topic for Nigerians because we live in a very religious society. This week, we asked them how their faith (or lack of) has been impacted by the education they receive.
Here’s what they said:
Ana: Afe Babalola, 19-years-old. No religion, just vibes
Going to University definitely affected my faith.. Before I went, I was kind of a Christian. Now? Not so much. As a biochemistry major in my third year, you see all the processes of life explained. Science is my peace, and it does not allow for the thousand and one loopholes Christianity does. It is relatable, I understand it. They teach me that miracles are things science just does not have an explanation for yet. I feel the only thing still tying me down to a belief in a higher power, is the creation of the world. Once I figure that out, I am golden. My parents don’t know, and I don’t plan on telling them. Not at least until I’m out of their house.
Chidinma: University of Nigeria, Nsukka, 20-years-old. Christian
I am a very religious person. Christianity is my push and driving force. It was integrated into every area of my life, at least before I started psychology. I’m in my third year now, and one thing we have to learn is to celebrate personal bias and faith from work. Although prayer gives me peace, I cannot advise that as a solution to a patient. Learning that in school, is teaching me how to separate my faith from all other areas of my life, and I do not know what that means for me right now.
Kabiru: UniLorin, 18-years-old, Muslim
I guess I am a bit too strong in my faith to have anything shake it, education or otherwise. Allah has been there for me even before I was born, so why will education make me turn my back on that? The knowledge I am trying so desperately to get was given to me by Allah. He is the reason I am able to start school in the first place.
Tolu: Covenant University, 21-years-old, Christian
We attend church a lot in school. It is a requirement to graduate so I really did not have a choice. I was not one of the strongest Muslims out there, because I found the religion a bit off, so maybe that was why it was so easy for me to convert to Christianity. I had a lot of Christian friends, and they always spoke about faith and love of God. It felt nice, and I wanted to see what they were on about anyway. I kept telling myself that if this also doesn’t feel right, I’d just leave. It feels right. I’m meant to graduate this year, so we’ll see how this goes.
Cynthia: UniLag, 19-years-old, Polytheist
As someone that studies Creative Arts, perspective is very important. There is nothing really objective, everything is based on the subject. That is how my faith started to change. By my second year (in my third now), Muslim? Christian? Traditional worshipper? All of them became right, and all of them wrong. It is all based on perspective.
For more stories about student life and Gen-Z culture, click here
“A Week In The Life” is a weekly Zikoko series that explores the working-class struggles of Nigerians. It captures the very spirit of what it means to hustle in Nigeria and puts you in the shoes of the subject for a week.
Today’s subject is Amope, a Nigerian woman who sells sex toys. She walks us through business during COVID, her Christian faith, and not being ashamed to promote her business using her face.
MONDAY:
I usually wake up whenever the spirit leads. But these days, due to COVID, I have been waking up before 7 am. Sometimes, if I’m exhausted, I don’t stand up from the bed. Lai, Lai, they can’t kill me, I didn’t kill my mother. To be honest, it’s not like I pray every day. But at least, I pray all these “thank you, I am alive” prayers. Sometimes, I scam the prayer.
Today, I am working on my website. I have to upload pictures, descriptions, and everything that needs to go on it. Also, I have to create content for Instagram, Whatsapp stories, Twitter. I use apps like Canva, Snapseed, Quik so that my content comes out really cool. It’s not an easy job, to be honest. See, you need to get your angles right. Picture is not something you wake up one morning and start taking. You can take like twenty pictures of just one penis. You have to make sure the picture comes out very professional, looking dapper than dap. Like if they see this picture, they have to buy it. Wo ma gba. Period.
That kind of thing, it’s crazy. Then you are doing one video and someone is calling you at that same time. The person is now calling consistently and being a devil. Oh gosh, inspiration ti sa mo mi lowo sha. Then you now have to sit down and say “God, help your daughter, we have to start again. We need inspiration.” The only thing that makes all the effort worth it is when you now post and clients say they want that particular one because it looks good. The thing is just crazy. Just that when it comes out, it looks good and it looks cool.
I am going to try to create content all day. But once I am tired like this, I’ll lie down on my bed because I can’t come and kill myself.
TUESDAY:
I am frustrated with this country. It’s not even funny because I have been expecting my goods since the COVID crisis started. It’s just crazy and I am trying not to think about it. I have clients that have paid for over a month and haven’t received their goods. They have been so patient with me; I give kudos to my customers. I am tired of one excuse or the other from shipping agents when I ask about the status of my goods. O ti su mi. I give up.
I have like 8 or 9 people waiting to receive their goods. Some people wanted to pay again but I had to refuse their money. I use God to beg them because if the goods don’t come by next week, I am going to refund everyone their money. I don’t think I can continue giving excuses. The reason I started this business is that I don’t like office stress, but this period is testing me.
Anytime I start to feel stressed, I remember my best day ever in this business. It happened a week after my birthday last year. I screamed like “Oh my God” because I didn’t expect it. I never expected it.
I posted content by 5 am on Twitter that day because I couldn’t sleep. So, I was just online creating content. Thinking of captions in my head and just playing around. That’s how I got a message from someone who saw my products. That’s how the person said they hope I am a hundred percent confidential. I said “confidential is my name o. Anything you want to buy, buy. I don’t want to know you. Just buy.”
The person then told me to come to the Island before 12 noon with plenty of products. I packed as many as possible and flew Gokada from the mainland to Island to beat Lagos traffic and my village people. On getting there, this person bought toys worth over ₦500,000. They also gave me a belated birthday gift. Whenever I remember that day, I’m happy. It makes me stay back and say baby girl you are doing well.
I need to relax my nerves and stop thinking. After I am done with my tasks today, I’ll just chill with the very cold bottle of sweet red wine that’s in my fridge. One bottle of my wine and I am good.
WEDNESDAY:
If you ask me to rank my best selling toys, the list is probably like this: bullet vibrator, magic wand, rabbit vibrators. The bullet and wand can be used alone for either the male or female. Or, together as a couple. The rabbit vibrators are for women who enjoy dual stimulation – vaginal and clitoris.
Because of how much I know, whenever I advice clients on toys to buy, they find it hard to believe that I never used a sex toy before starting this business two years ago. The first toy that caught my attention was the bullet vibrator. The bullet is small but mighty. As tiny as that thing is, it’ll send you to cloud nine. You will hang there and you will come back.
Reviews from customers were always like: ”I squirted for the first time. I reached orgasm for the first time.” I was like “Oluwa, wetin dey happen. What’s going on?” Before using a toy on myself, I used to market the products based on the feedback from customers. I practically envisioned myself as my clients in my reviews. It was so good that you’d believe I used sex toys too. One day after all the reviews, I decided that I too wanted to enjoy what clients were enjoying.
I started with the bullet vibrator with my then partner. When the thing touched my clitoris, I wanted to fly away because I was like what’s going on here. Thank God for my partner in my life, because he practically held me down. I was like “I want to go and wee wee.” He was the one that told me to release myself and allow myself to enjoy it. Mehn, It was not funny, I was just squirting anyhow. It was so sweet. Since then, I have tried a load of other toys.
That experience taught me that as a lady, you need to know yourself. Some women are so scared they can’t even touch themselves. When you know your body, you know what you want your partner to touch. You can either tell them with your mouth or by guiding them with their hands. By knowing your body, you don’t have to wait for someone to give you the pleasure you actually desire. You can get it all by yourself all by making yourself involved. Self-pleasure is mandatory.
Thankfully, I know what I want. With the kind of day I have had, it’s sleep I want.
THURSDAY:
There is a lot of misconception about my business. I have had to separate my business Whatsapp number from my personal number. In the beginning, anytime I post my products, people would threaten to block me. Others were shocked, telling me that the business is not right.
I didn’t even tell my family members about my business. They found out through social media. One day after church service with my older sister, she mentioned she saw my business on Facebook. She now asked me if the holy spirit led me to start the business. I was just laughing when she said it.
The problem is that people don’t understand the role of sex toys. The first thing that comes to mind when people hear that I sell sex toys is that I am a bad girl. For instance, a client comes to tell me that she loves her husband but his penis is small. Where sex toy comes in is that we have products you can use. We have penis extenders that are flesh-like and can give you extra girth and length. So, if your woman says I want it chubby, you can always wear it and give her that extra feeling that she wants. Some of these extenders are even vibrating. So, as a man you are enjoying yourself, the woman is also enjoying herself because it’s rubbing on her clitoris and giving her some kind of stimulation.
Some toys like cock rings help you last longer. It can help you last as long as you want. It helps to delay ejaculation. These are better alternatives to pills because relying on pills can make you lose your self-esteem. You start to rely on pills every time you want to have sex and you are hurting yourself.
For women, you will hear some of them say their husband doesn’t like licking or sucking, or he doesn’t like oral sex. He doesn’t like to go down on them either because “at their age, they can’t do that.” Others say, because of their culture, they won’t be caught dead doing that. Some of these things, it’s because of the belief they were raised with. This is what society says and this is how it must be done.
I always tell these women that this is not a reason for divorce yet. Why don’t you get yourself a clitoris sucker, an oral sex tongue vibrator. You don’t have to abandon your marriage because of the belief of your partner.
Some of these toys can literally save some of these marriages.
What do I know? I am not kuku in the marriage with them. What I am currently married to is the book I am reading. Today, I plan to finish reading The Secret Lives Of Baba Segi’s Wives. I am so addicted to the book.
FRIDAY:
I can’t date someone who doesn’t support my business. Or, isn’t comfortable with me promoting my business using my face. Whenever I meet someone new and I tell them what I do for a living, they are usually curious: “Does it move in Nigeria? How do I do it?” Many of them are usually supportive. However, there was this time I was talking to one guy. immediately I told him what I do for a living, I was sensing a lot of bad vibes. He kept on going about how his woman can’t be selling sex toys. That plenty men will be talking to me. Omo, I ended it, and everyone waka their waka. I can’t be with someone that isn’t comfortable with what I do. Don’t let us start what we can’t finish.
I am the kind of person who feels comfortable in her own skin. I make videos demonstrating how to use these toys with my face because this is my hustle. Why should it be different from the person that sells hair? They promote their hustle with their chest. Why can’t I be happy and show my face and promote my own business too? I am very confident in what I do and I am sure of what I want.
Another thing is that it makes my clients feel more comfortable. They know that there is a real face behind the brand. That there’s someone they can relate with. I try to gesticulate and make the videos as fun as possible. As long as my work is not illegal, I will always show my face.
My major concern today is how to find ginger to make the videos I need to make for the week. I am low on inspiration.
SATURDAY:
My friends think I am unreliable because I keep canceling on them. I have a friend that I have cancelled on three times and she no longer invites me anywhere. It’s not like I don’t want to hang out, it’s just that my idea of a perfect day involves books.
I love to read because I was raised with books. My mum would buy books for me — novels, comics — and she’d hide them from me. The condition for allowing me to read books was that I had to complete house chores. So, I’d sweep, mop, wash the chicken, put water on fire. Then, after finishing my tasks she would now allow me to read the books. The joy on my face was unrivaled. Even though my mum passed on, that part of her still lives with me.
Once I start to read, it relaxes me. I get lost in between the pages and I don’t worry anymore. Part of today’s agenda is reading a book someone recommended on Twitter. The title is Kane and Abel. Thankfully, I have the paid version of the Any books app. I look forward to losing myself in between the pages. How do I explain to my friends that this is my idea of fun?
SUNDAY:
I enjoy worship. Especially prayers where we are in a group. I can stand for long and pray. When it comes to prayer services, I don’t joke with it. Before lockdown and Corona, I never missed Sunday services. Today, I am attending an online service.
I like this church because of one incident that happened. When I started my sex toy business in 2018, I switched to this church. I am very lowkey so nobody knows me. Once service is over like this, I have disappeared. However, this year we had a dry fast in church for 21 days. We hosted group prayers on the last day of the fast, so I went to church excited on that day. However, it turned out that I had miscalculated. The last day wasn’t till the next day so there was nobody in the church except the pastor’s wife.
As I turned to leave, she called me into her office to have a conversation. That she had been meaning to gist with me.
We started talking randomly until she asked me what I do for a living. I told her I was looking for a job straight up. She didn’t buy it. So, she asked me again. I stammered for like 5 minutes before whispering that I sold sex toys. The most surprising thing was that she was cool about it. No judgment. She even asked for my Instagram page to check it out. She also asked, “that when I am in that mood, which toy do I use?” I was like “ma, we are still fasting.”
She now asked me that when the pastor is praying and he says “pray for your business”, do I also pray for my business? I told her that I pray for God to bless my business. I tell God to enlarge my coast. That I should get plenty plenty customers. She was just laughing.
I found that conversation hilarious because I felt comfortable around her. She wasn’t the regular kind of mummy that would say “blood of Jesus” and rebuke me.
What I can’t tell anyone, I can tell her because when she corrects me, she doesn’t do it in a condescending manner. She makes me feel welcome. Even if I leave that church today, I’ll always look up to her.
Because of how comfortable she has made me, I don’t feel like I can’t worship God as a result of my business. My business doesn’t interfere with my spiritual life because at the end of the day, without God, we are nothing. We can’t exist.
Glossary:
Inspiration ti sa mo mi lowo sha – I have lost my inspiration.
O ti su mi – I am tired.
Wo ma gba – They will be blown away.
Check back every Tuesday by 9 am for more “A Week In The Life Of” goodness, and if you would like to be featured or you know anyone who fits the profile, don’t hesitate to reach out.Reach out to me: hassan@bigcabal.com if you want to be featured on this series.
“A Week In The Life” is a weekly Zikoko series that explores the working-class struggles of Nigerians. It captures the very spirit of what it means to hustle in Nigeria and puts you in the shoes of the subject for a week.
Today’s subject is Imam Nojeem Jimoh. He tells us how he’s navigating Ramadan using technology in this special time.
THURSDAY:
I wake up by 4:15 am today. I pray two rakats and make dua until it’s time for fajr. In the past, I would have left the house ten minutes to the time for fajr to lead congregational prayers in the masjid, but that’s no longer possible. We are in special times. By Saturday, it will be one month since we last gathered for congregational prayers at the masjid. But we have no choice.
Everyone has had to adapt to the new change. Even the madrasa. There are now online classes for the children. Their Arabic teacher recites and records the surah he wants the children to memorize and he sends it to them via Whatsapp. Then, they recite and record and send it back to him and he makes corrections. Arabic classes are now held over Zoom calls. One hour session where everyone recites along and tasks are monitored. It doesn’t replicate the madrasa perfectly but it at least ensures that time is not wasted during this period. You cannot escape Alfa because Alfa is online monitoring your task and progress.
So, instead of going to the mosque to lead prayers, I lead my family in prayers. In the past, I would have had my bath and prepared for my 9-5 after fajr. I am not a full-time imam. I have a job that I report to during the week. My job is classified as essential services so that means I still have to go in during this period. However, I don’t have to go in as early as I used to. This means that I have some leeway to do one or two things.
I am a morning person and I am not used to going back to sleep after waking up. So, I find a way to pass time before leaving for work.
FRIDAY:
If ever we can say something good came out from this period, it is becoming internet savvy. Especially among my own congregation. I have encouraged everyone to actively download Zoom and the response has been encouraging. This is because it seems like this is going to be a Zoom Ramadan. Why I am grateful for Zoom is that it still gives people the communal feeling even though we are all apart. This is especially important because of people who are struggling with their iman during this period. We all struggle with iman normally and that’s why we all need to keep in touch with each other.
Today, after work, I am going to address my congregation on Whatsapp concerning Ramadan. We have a general Whatsapp group where we send important messages. I have informed them that it’s going to be for 90 minutes, and I have asked for their cooperation.
My message to them is simple: this virus is real and deadly. We have been tasked by the Sharia to obey Allah and the people who have authority over us. The Sharia also tasks all Muslims with the preservation of life. The people in authority over us have enforced rules to ensure the preservation of life. Therefore, by obeying these rules, we are preserving life and following Sharia. It is important that regardless of how unusual things are, everyone follows instructions.
Everyone should pray Taraweeh in their homes with their family. Islam is not stressing anyone.
After the address, I look forward to enjoying a quiet Iftar with my family. Me, my wife, the children, feasting on a delicious meal of ogi and moi moi.
SATURDAY:
I wake up with a slight cough today. Normally, I would reach for water but I don’t, because I am fasting. It is one of those things.
Being an imam like any other thing comes with its own “challenges”. I have had a member of my congregation call me by 1 am to just “come to their house immediately” without telling me the nature of the emergency. Bearing in mind that I still had to go to work later that day, I had no choice but to rush down.
Other times, I have had parents bring children to me suffering from depression and anxiety issues. It has been my job to walk the fine line between offering them spiritual comfort based on the Sunnah and also making sure that the child receives the appropriate modern medical treatment. That is, encouraging them to go see the appropriate specialist as the case may require.
In some cases, it has also been myself. Contrary to popular belief, Imams too get low iman. The only advantage we have is the knowledge of the scripture with relevant examples of past prophets who have experienced something similar. Reading these stories and seeing similarities helps shake off the feeling and bounce back. Coupled with the fact that I have to constantly remind myself that leaders are meant to lead by example. These two factors help to always make sure that I am not down for too long. It’s also the same scripture by which I motivate myself that I use to help members of my congregation that come seeking help. It becomes easier to help them when you can relate.
I am going to spend the rest of the day joining Zoom calls. I plan to listen to the lectures that I would have normally attended if I wasn’t staying at home.
SUNDAY:
In the masjid, we have an army of Alfas. During Ramadan when we have an increased number of prayers, we rotate who leads the prayers. So, someone leads Ishai, another person leads Taraweeh, another person leads shafi and witr. While another person recites a Juz of the Quran. This division of labour makes it easier for everybody.
I am the only man in my house. It’s just me, my wife and two daughters. As an imam, even though we no longer gather, it is still my job to encourage members of my congregation over the phone to pray in their own homes. Also, because I am the only man in my house, I am quite literally the imam. So, it means that in addition to leading my congregation virtually, I also have to lead my home. I have found out in the last few days that being the one to lead all these prayers can be exhausting.
Today, after praying shafi and witr, I am quite exhausted. This is the first Ramadan I have had to do without being able to delegate. Even if it’s Ishai. Also, what makes it exhausting is that we try to recite half of a Juz at home. For one person leading all of this, it can be tiring. But may Allah make it easy.
My favourite meal — rice and stew — is what we have for iftar but it is a struggle to keep my eyes open. After the meal, I go to bed sufficiently exhausted.
MONDAY:
Today, I have had time to think over some things. It is now clearer to me why congregational prayers are important.
As an imam, the last few days made me realise what energy comes from having a crowd praying behind you. The way I feel exhausted after praying taraweeh in the last few days made me realise this.
I told my wife that in the masjid, I wouldn’t have felt exhausted so soon in Ramadan. It is clear to me that the crowd behind is part of the energizer that makes things easier.
When I am leading taraweeh and I know that there are 100 – 150 people behind me, the knowledge of that keeps pushing me. Also, there are people to rotate the responsibilities with. However, in this case, we are only four at home praying. I have found out that the energizer is missing and that’s why I feel tired easily.
Zoom has been really helpful with keeping in touch and communal feeling, but you can’t pray via Zoom. I am looking forward to things going back to normal. I miss my congregation, I miss the energy they give me. That energy has never been more important than during this Ramadan.
Glossary:
Imam – The person who leads prayers in a mosque.
Rakat – Single unit of Islamic prayer.
Dua – Literally meaning invocation, is an act of supplication. The term is derived from an Arabic word meaning to ‘call out’ or to ‘summon’, and Muslims regard this as a profound act of worship.
Fajr – The Fajr prayer is the first of the five daily prayers (salah) performed daily by practicing Muslims.
Masjid – Mosque.
Madrasa – A school for Islamic instruction.
Alfa – Islamic scholar.
Iman – Faith.
Sharia – Islamic canonical law based on the teachings of the Quran and the traditions of the Prophet (Hadith and Sunna), prescribing both religious and secular duties and sometimes retributive penalties for lawbreaking.
Taraweeh – Additional ritual prayers performed by Muslims at night after the Isha prayer during the holy month of Ramadan. It involves reading one Juz’ (Arabic: جُزْءْ, i.e a section of the Quran 1/30 its length, which generally takes somewhere between 20-60 minutes), and from 8 to 10 cycles of Raka’ah, lasting well over an hour in total.
Iftar – The meal eaten by Muslims after sunset during Ramadan.
Juz – A juzʼ is one of thirty parts of varying lengths into which the Quran is divided. It takes 30 – 60 minutes to finish reciting one.
Ishai – This is the night-time daily prayer performed by practicing Muslims.
Check back every Tuesday by 9 am for more “A Week In The Life Of” goodness, and if you would like to be featured or you know anyone who fits the profile, don’t hesitate to reach out.Reach out to me: hassan@bigcabal.com if you want to be featured on this series.
Does having a community make worship easy? If so, how have people been surviving in this lockdown where gatherings have been restricted?
6 people share their stories with us.
Taiwo – I pray all my solats at night.
Before now, I used to be proud of the fact that I didn’t miss my daily prayers and that I also prayed at the right time. Having a mosque at work helped with this. So, it was easy for my colleagues and I to stroll for prayers.
However, since I started working from home, that has changed. It’s difficult to pray or even work. So, I end up combining all my prayers late at night after internally gassing myself. I know this is not good but I just can’t shake off the lethargy.
I guess all that uncertainty is making me apathetic. I just hope that on the day of judgment God forgives depression as a reason for missing prayers.
Kene – I have to perform belief.
It’s not like I don’t believe in God but I would rather watch Castlevania than wake up for night vigil. It’s just more interesting. Since I got home, my parents have been waking me up in the middle of the night to pray against Corona. Apparently, as the first child, I have to learn how to start praying for my family. It’s somehow. It feels fake because I am just performing the motions.
Kachi – It’s weird.
I don’t think anything has changed for me. I still tune in for mass during the week and over the weekend. I miss the smell of the church with the incense and all of that. Sometimes, I don’t get that buzzing feeling when I am done with online mass.
I haven’t gone for confession in a while and I feel uncomfortable. I also can’t confess over the phone because it breaks the secrecy chain as there is a third party; network provider. It’s all so weird. So so weird and uncomfortable.
Tope – It’s eye opening.
I realized that without the routine that church provides, my parents aren’t religious like that. Away from the judgmental eyes of church members, my parents are like me. It’s all a performance. We don’t even stream service or anything. All of us just press our phones and mind our business.
I am sure our bibles are wondering if we died.
Remi – I can’t stop praying.
Every night, I wait up refreshing NCDC’s Twitter account. The wait makes me very restless because I don’t know what to expect. Especially with all the news that Nigeria is not prepared to handle this situation. So, what do I do? I control the only thing I can control which is prayer. Any small thing, I find myself praying these days.
The other day, I went to the market to restock my provisions and I kept on saying the “blood of Jesus” whenever someone came too close. Even with my nose mask and hand sanitizers, there’s no way I don’t see myself not getting this thing. It’s actually only God that can save us in Nigeria.
So, I had better start calling him, maybe he will spare me.
Habeeb – I am anxious.
Ramadan is coming and I am worried. The beauty of Ramadan for me has been the communal feeling among Muslims. Everyone is usually so supportive and nice. With that absence, this Ramadan will be difficult. If I don’t see people around me fasting and praying, I am worried I may not be able to complete it. My iman has been low for a while.
For the first time since I was 7, I am scared I will not complete the 30 days fast.
Phaedra Parks is one of the stars of the show ‘Real Housewives Of Atlanta‘. She is famous for her witty phrases, funny faces and over the top “southern belle” antics.
Here are 12 times she reminded us of a church aunty.
1. When you give her good news:
Her favourite phrase!
2. When the head usher asks her to sit somewhere other than her self-designated church seat:
He will smell pepper after the service!
3. When she sees a choir member with a slightly above the knee skirt:
This church is full of unserious people!
4. When she finishes abusing a church member, she tells them:
Thank you so very much ma!
5. When a junior pastor doesn’t greet her “well”:
“I’m not too sure of that man’s salvation.”
6. When someone disagrees with her during bible study:
Please keep that opinion to yourself!
7. When someone tries to wear a hat bigger than hers to church:
You want to start what you cannot finish abi?
8. How she prays over her after-church small chops:
May the fire of the Holy Spirit consume all the fat!
9. When the church tries to introduce a new way of doing anything:
One question. Why?
10. How her and your mum look at each other when the choir is singing off-key:
It’s obvious these ones are not spirit filled today!
11. When someone asks an annoying question during bible study:
Phaedra Parks is one of the stars of the show ‘Real Housewives Of Atlanta‘. She is famous for her witty phrases, funny faces and over the top “southern belle” antics. Here are 12 times she reminded us of a church aunty.
