Excerpt from 'In Our Own Ways' by Yejide Kilanko

Senami looked on as Fadaka slipped into an old adire garment, wiped off her cosmetics, and stowed away her jewelry, following Aunty Kike’s advice. It seemed that minimalistic attire was the key to heightened spiritual connection.

"Going in with anger will ruin the prayers," Senami gently cautioned.

Fadaka dismissed his remark with a snort. One more jab for Pseudo Mama to hurl at her. "I've asked you to stop nagging me," she retorted.

After tying her scarf neatly under her hair, Fadaka grabbed her overnight bag and headed for the door.

Senami stood in her way, arms stretched. "How about a hug? I’m thankful for what you’re doing for us."

Once she conceded, Senami became an overly attentive husband, springing into action with household tasks before she even asked. "Your aunty is waiting," he reminded her.

With a resigned sigh, Senami stepped aside.

As Fadaka reached for her car keys, Aunty Kike interjected, "Leave those. The church bridge washed away after last month’s heavy rain."

“But how do we get there?" Fadaka questioned, bewildered.

"There’s a thing called public transport," Aunty Kike replied. "We’ll take it to Loburo and walk the remaining distance."

Fadaka wasn’t in the mood for walking. She turned to Senami, “Can I park close by?"

“I wouldn’t trust my car to stay overnight," he advised. "It could disappear by morning."

Disappointed, Fadaka dropped her keys. "Then perhaps you should drive us?"

Senami scratched his head. "I can’t. I have a vital business meeting early tomorrow."

"We have to leave now," Aunty Kike urged impatiently.

Fadaka shot Senami a reproachful look. Just one night, and everything would change.

As twilight descended, Fadaka rushed across the bustling four-lane expressway at Loburo, gown lifted in haste. Soon, they approached an old concrete bridge.

Didn’t Aunty Kike just say the bridge was gone? Casting a glance her way, Fadaka noticed the stern expression that discouraged further inquiries. They stepped off the old bridge and followed Aunty Kike down a long, unfinished road, passing dilapidated structures reclaimed by wild overgrowth. She regretted allowing her annoyance with Senami to prevent her from insisting on a ride to the church.

They finally reached the end of the road, where Aunty Kike paused before an unpainted bungalow. Fadaka felt relieved when the rickety wooden plank over the open gutter proved sturdy enough to support them.

In the dimming light, she squinted at the sign in front of the building, which boldly announced: ONE CHANCE CELESTIAL MINISTRY.

The deserted courtyard perplexed Fadaka. “It’s so quiet,” she remarked.

“This is where Prophet Ananias holds his special prayer sessions,” Aunty Kike explained. “The primary church is on the next street over."

“What sort of special prayers?” Fadaka asked, curiosity piqued.

Aunty Kike looked away. “Deliverance sessions for women who can’t conceive.”

They turned at the sound of footsteps, watching as a portly man exited the church building, barefoot, his flowing white robe now muddy.

Aunty Kike's demeanor changed. “Greetings, my Celestial Lordship,” she said with a bashful tone.

Prophet Ananias grinned. “Sister Kike, I’ve told you before; I’m just a servant, a humble messenger. The honor belongs to those who work harder than I do in the vineyard.”

Fadaka felt a wave of unease at the sharp, pointed teeth that filled the prophet's mouth.

The adoration in Aunty Kike’s eyes shone brilliantly. “Indeed, Prophet,” she replied.

Examining the plump prophet more closely, Fadaka noted that fasting didn’t seem to be an asset in his spiritual practices. The prophet turned, addressing her, "You must be Sister Fadaka."

At the stream, the prophet extended his hand, which Fadaka ignored, stepping instead into the chilling water, gasping at the temperature.

Prophet Ananias guided Fadaka deeper into the stream until the water surged past her knees. In the obscured lighting, his face merged into shadows, but she could still perceive the musky scent that made her stomach churn. She inhaled deeply to steady her racing heart.

The prophet then began her bathing ritual, humming while he scrubbed her skin with sponges in circular motions. As he washed her face, gritty charcoal particles from the soap found their way into her mouth, prompting her to spit them out.

When the prophet's hand crept between her thighs, Fadaka yelped, "Please… stop!"

Prophet Ananias panted in response. "Um… we need to ensure you are prepared to receive the visitor soon."

Fadaka frowned, wondering, A visitor?

The prophet circled sponges above her head seven times before casting them into the stream. Fadaka shivered in the cold as she witnessed the slow water carry away the sponges.

His sudden proclamation startled her. “Someone praise Jah Jehovah!”

Fadaka stared, hearing Aunty Kike's loud hallelujah echo far off.

In Our Own Ways is authored by Yejide Kilanko, published by Narrative Escape.