A
abujagirl
Guest
Fellow Nigerians, let me confess that I have a soft spot for men of God, especially Pastors. The reason can’t be difficult to fathom. I’m not just a Christian; I had the great privilege of being born by my heavily spiritual mum and dad in an Aladura church in Ile-Ife. That was in the good old days when men and women truly served God and prayed more than a praying mantis. We never doubted the efficacy of prayers or the supremacy of the almighty. We lived side by side with Muslims, animists, atheists and sometimes worshipped with them or indeed, practised whatever we chose to practice. That was your own business.
We celebrated every festival. We even sometimes chose to fast during Ramadan. For us, it was all fun, sitting down in the evenings, under the stars or moonlight, breaking fast with our Islamic neighbours. Or waking up in the early hours to partake in feast called Saari. Wow, my mouth and tongue are salivating together as I go through this process of recollection. We attended the same schools with the children of the privilegentsia. The only difference was that a few of them rode to school in chauffeur-driven cars, even convertible Chevrolets and Phantom Rolls Royces like Ooni Aderemi’s children and grand children, while most of us ‘rode’ on our legs. But it wasn’t really a big deal as we lived happily as one.
A brief recital of my family’s religious origin is even worth repeating here and now. My paternal grandparents were Muslims from Ihievbe village, in the present day Edo State, Owan East Local Government. I can’t remember ever meeting my paternal grandmother but I knew my paternal grandfather as Baba Onirungbon Yeuke (a character from one of D. O. Fagunwa’s novels) because he had that long and curly beard like a Rastafarian. He was gentle and meek and prayed to Allah endlessly.
Click here to read more
SOURCE: #ThisDay
We celebrated every festival. We even sometimes chose to fast during Ramadan. For us, it was all fun, sitting down in the evenings, under the stars or moonlight, breaking fast with our Islamic neighbours. Or waking up in the early hours to partake in feast called Saari. Wow, my mouth and tongue are salivating together as I go through this process of recollection. We attended the same schools with the children of the privilegentsia. The only difference was that a few of them rode to school in chauffeur-driven cars, even convertible Chevrolets and Phantom Rolls Royces like Ooni Aderemi’s children and grand children, while most of us ‘rode’ on our legs. But it wasn’t really a big deal as we lived happily as one.
A brief recital of my family’s religious origin is even worth repeating here and now. My paternal grandparents were Muslims from Ihievbe village, in the present day Edo State, Owan East Local Government. I can’t remember ever meeting my paternal grandmother but I knew my paternal grandfather as Baba Onirungbon Yeuke (a character from one of D. O. Fagunwa’s novels) because he had that long and curly beard like a Rastafarian. He was gentle and meek and prayed to Allah endlessly.
Click here to read more
SOURCE: #ThisDay