Bind! Cast!! PUSH!!!

Dear Diary,

I seem to have digressed a bit lately: my writings recently have focused on the principality called “sickle cell”. Yes it has, because there has been a paradigm shift and change will remain constant. I have come to the realization that sometimes, people love to hide behind the facade that comes with religion. They’ve done this so much that it has become a part of their lives and when they see something go wrong, they’d rather sweep it under the carpet than right the wrong. Today, as I go back in time, I write to tell the role religion has played in the life of a winning warrior. Happy reading……

I was going to leave my office early in order to meet up with an appointment with “He who must be obeyed”. I was just about to call the driver when I stumbled on a message on my Whatsapp. It was a video: hhhhmmm I was skeptical but I watched it anyway and I cringed. I thought I was the only one who felt this way but watching that video made me realize that some winning warriors had also experienced it and they were courageous enough to give a voice to the voiceless….

Back in the adolescent age, Twinnie had grown into a lovely young woman but I was just so tiny, hopping from one church to the other in the name of “healing”. Dad and Mum became so worried about me and they were ready to listen to anyone that claimed he was the healer. Coincidentally, there came this revival, “power-packed” “healings..et al.”  and I was dragged along as usual, after all I was the victim who needed “healing and delieverance,…”  After the sermon came the altar call., when I had to get born again again despite the fact that I already was.

“Dad, I answered this altar call some months ago, I don’t have to do so again” I said to my Dad when He told me to get up and answer the altar call. With a slight spank on the head my Mum said “ shut up and get up”  So off I went to get “born again again” with my mum right behind me. Hhhrrr God! I rolled my eyes in disgust…

As I got to the altar, joined the queue and waited for the pastor to get to my turn, I silently prayed and hoped that they would get this over with quickly. I had barely opened my eyes when I heard the prayer and felt a hand on my forehead. Again, I heard the prayer and felt the hand again, this time, it was a push, I staggered a little but quickly found my feet. Then the prayer came again, along with the binding, the casting and the PUSH……. Down I went, down., down., down., down., then I heard screams and silence. It felt so dark, I could feel the sensation, the tingling and I jerked with a start only to feel the whiplash of excruciating pain in my back. It had arrived, crisis had arrived and it had been called forth with the speed of lightening by the pastor. “ Oh God why me” …… “and he said unto me, My grace is sufficient for thee: for my strength is made perfect in weakness. Most gladly will I rather glory in my infirmities, that the power of Christ may rest upon me” 2 Cor 12: 9 (KJV) I couldn’t get up nor move and I became the film that the whole church was watching for the next fifteen minutes. From that time, I have carried a scar that I’ve been forced to live with.

Years later, history repeated itself in a different dimension and my eyes became open to the harsh reality of life. I happen to be a very rebellious winning warrior. Whenever crisis appeared, I mostly took solace in music rather than medications. Very strange, but that was me and most of the time that I listened to music, sickle cell would walk away from my tiny, frail body. I loved singing and I’d been in different church choirs and other music groups since my teenage years. I believed that my voice was meant strictly to serve God in the church but what I didn’t know was that service to God was not restricted to the church.

It was Friday evening, I’d just concluded a tough meeting with my supervisor and she had instructed me to start chapter three all over again. I was grumpy, extremely so. As I left the school premises, I headed straight to the Taxi rank and took a taxi straight to church because I was running late for rehearsals. Twenty minutes after, I arrived at rehearsals and apologized to fellow choristers for coming late. They had concluded the first song and were waiting for me to commence the second song. So I took the microphone and began singing the part of the lead vocalist. The choir kept singing the song until we had perfected its technicalities and were sure of ministering on Sunday. Then it all began …., the choir leader called for a brief meeting which included the church Pastor. As I looked at their faces, I could tell they were up to something, just didn’t know what it was. And so the political battle started and all hell was let loose, I had never experienced stigmatization and hatred with such intensity in my life and to think it happened in the church and with those you had put on a different spiritual pedestal. Wow!!!

The choir leader’s wife started her speech thus “Pastor sir, could you please tell her to apologize to the choir for cursing that we will have sicklers too? They keep complaining about the air conditioner, initially, I kept wondering why the two of them react to the cold so much, especially when the air conditioner is on but now I know why. It’s because they are sick; they’ve got sickle cell disease, no wonder. Well, I will not have a sickler! I can never have a sickler because I am not sick…. and so went on the rattling and blabbing about sickle cell by the choir leader’s wife. As she kept talking, I observed the satisfied, sarcastic smirk on her husband’s face and I knew right there that this had been a well orchestrated meeting where the so called “sickler” was the chosen victim. I immediately unplugged myself psychologically and left the moment the meeting was over. The saving grace that night was that the pastor did not mention anything about apologies but tactfully rounded up with a short prayer. It was a day I’ll never forget, a day that had it’s memory inscribed in my spirit and a day I understood the true meaning of the saying: “silence is golden” I didn’t say a word in response and when it was time to leave, I did.

As I arrived home that night, I didn’t shed a tear, instead, I went to the “upper room” and I spoke with Daddy. Hi “Daddy, we talk all the time but today I wanna see you. I don’t need to tell you stories but you know what just happened, so what do we do? Remember you created me, would you allow those who just insulted you to go scot free? Silence..? overwhelming silence!! “Daddy, Daddy, Ddddddddddddddddddaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaddddddddddddyyyyyyyyyyyy!!!!!!!!!!!! ….Can you hear me..?????????? Am I getting through tonight……????? I kept singing those words from Mark Schultz’ song as I got on my knees. Ssssiiiillleeennncccceeee!!!! Trrrraaannnqqquillliiitttttyyyy!!! Aaalllooonnneeeennneeeess!!! Daaaaddyyyy!! Aaaalllmmmiightyyy!!!! Am I a curse? Because of sickle cell????????????????? Answer mmeeeee!!!! So the songs kept coming, of their own volition….and I kept singing, and singing, and singing. The embarrassment, humiliation, hatred, stigma and mockery were all forced down my throat at once, it was a bitter pill to swallow.

Sssooo quiet and silent… and then I heard it. The brrrreeeeezzzzee. Very gentle and mild, but I heard it!!! It became louder, more violent. No longer a breeze but the wind, blowing wildly. The table began to shake and my books started falling, every book on the table fell, including my Bible and everything went still afterwards…. Then I went into a trance and began to see images, on and on and on and on and finally I understood. Have mercy Almighty. Yes! I’m angry, yes, they have insulted you, but this????? No Lord, nnnnnooooo. Have mmmmeeeerrrrccccyyyyy!!!!!!!!!!!!! Ppppppllllllllleeeeeeaaaaasssseeeeee!!!!   “ be not deceived; God is not mocked: for whatsoever a man soweth, that shall he reap also…” Gal 6:7 KJV . So, Dad, you knew this was gonna happen?… Hhhhmmm I rest my case….

So many winning warriors have been marred psychologically, physically, emotionally and in other areas because they were victims of similar cases and they never got over these issues. Many people will have very judgemental opinions after reading this but guess what? I don’t care!!!! I was a victim too but I chose to fight and became a victor instead. I challenge the Nigerian society to stop the spiritual stigma on people living with sickle cell disorder. Quit judging a book by its cover! I stand tall against the stigma, I survived thus far, I am still surviving and I will survive because another winning warrior has emerged. Salute to my fellow winning warriors who went through this and came back stronger and to other winning warriors that have been marred by similar situations, Don’t let other people’s judgment define who you are. Stand up for yourselves! Olugbenga., you stood up for me, I am standing up for the younger ones…..

 

Goodnight diary, I’m off to bed. (excerpts from chronicles of Smarty)

Oluwafemi Ajayi

‘Gail Sickle Initiative