The Eye of A God

Then came the rain,letting fall on the earth her first comforting showers.Voices,once silent,burst forth in thanksgiving.In appreciation,the priest offered bounty sacrifices to his gods.The raining season came in the likeness of a lamb,banishing the earth's dryness.Now people could go about with a spring in their steps.Indeed it was a blessing to everyone.But after two days of its uninterrupted blessing,songs of elegy filled the land.A pall of grieving descended.The rain dispossessed houses of their roofs,tore down some and swept away little children.The walls of some houses caved in and they stood looking gaunt against the sky.The church building wasn't spared her wrath. It was past evening when they were ordered into the church.The moon cast a silvery glow on the earth.She stopped by the door as her eyes rested on the bundle of sleek canes leaning against the wall.She shivered with trepidation.Someone gave her a hard push in the small of her back.She almost fell.They sat on the floor,huddled together for comfort,awaiting the arrival of the pastor,the seer and all the disciples.They soon began to arrive in twos and threes,about a dozen strong.She wondered what was going to happen to them,what these adults needed the canes for.The pastor's wife said the opening prayer; 'use your servants,God,to liberate these little ones...' She stared at the woman,thinking there was kindness in her words. 'Amen,'answered the brethren. The pastor's wife led them in songs,accompanied by the lilting thuds of the tambourines.Millennium soon closed her eyes in sleep.It had been a long day,a day which she would never forget in a hurry.She was awakened by the searing stroke of the cane.A male disciple stood over her,glaring. 'Wake up!' He barked. She rubbed her eyes,then her shins where the stick had hit her.He looked ready to deal another blow.So the canes were meant for them,she thought miserably.She had thought Bibles were the only weapons the servants of God ever needed.She looked beyond him to see that they had summoned one of her companions. 'You just close your eyes again,and see if I won't tear you into bloody pieces!' He threatened.How Millennium wished she could hurt him! The seer was delivering his message,grounding his teeth rhythmically, whilst the children watched with bated breath.It was in the same manner he had given the message which stunned the congregation and brought her here.He had descended from the pulpit and was pacing leisurely in front of it,the congregation facing him.They could see only the whites of his powerful eye which had fished out eight children from the congregation for their involvement in witchcraft.The eyes of a God,indeed. The children already looked like outcasts,standing in front of the whole world,within range of the congregation's icy gaze.Some looked ready to cry.A wave of shock ran through the brethren as this seer revealed the sins of these children.He spoke in his native language,and the pastor who was versed in it,interpreted his startling revelations in flawless english:Some of the children were bloodthirsty killers,some had stolen the good fortune of their parents,retarded the progress of the church and altered people's destinies. Quite all of a sudden,the prophet stopped speaking and let out a fearsome shout. His veined brow beaded with sweat. The pastor seized his bell and rang it repeatedly,praying fervently.The brethren began to pray,too,their voices rising in an awesome crescendo.He gradually quitened,then raised his right hand heavenward before slowly pointing it at her.She could never forget that, and the pain she felt in her heart when she moved with faltering steps to meet he that had called her. 'Are you a witch?' The pastor was asking Ayomide. She shook her head. 'Liar,' his wife shouted. 'Are you a witch?' He asked,again. Ayomide made no reply.She was the oldest among the children,thirteen years old.The disciples fell on her with their canes.Millennium's heart lurched with terror;this was coming to her,too.It was a matter of time.She turned to look at her mates.They stared back at her with the mutual look of helplessness.She couldn't bare to watch Ayomide's ordeal,so she shut her eyes again,to be roused later by the lash of a koboko,the leather whip fashioned from the hide of an ox.It tore into her flesh,drawing a clean trickle of blood whence it had descended.The disciple pulled her to her feet and dragged her to the waiting exorcists.The terrible moment had come.She turned back,briefly,realising that she was the last to pass through the fire of their deliverance.Some disciples were praying for the kids that had been delivered,spurring them to prayer and bitter crying by the vicious blows from the cane.Millennium trembled before the seer and the pastor,and his wife.The woman glowered at Millennium,her breath coming in short pants.She was holding another koboko.The seer gave his revelations concerning her,startling revelations that dropped her jaw to the floor. 'You are a witch,' said the pastor.'Confess now!' She was speechless. 'Go on and confess,'he urged. 'You waste precious time,'cried his wife.'If she wouldn't confess,let's force it out of her!' With those words spilling out of her mouth,she swung a blow at the aghast little girl who burst into tears. 'You are a deadly witch,and you know it,' said the pastor;'you have strong connection with the people of the water.You are responsible for all the problems that have befallen your auntie-Confess now!' These allegations were strange to her ears.She didn't want to deny these charges and invite assault,neither did she want to affirm these charges she felt she wasn't guilty of and face the scorn of the church.The news would spread like fire lit on a harmattan morning.No child would want to play with her,again.No trader would want to sell anything to her aunt at the market. There was no response forthcoming.The pastor gave an order and the other prayer warriors had her besieged.The flogging session began. 'You are a witch-say it!' His wife snarled. 'You are a witch,'Millennium responded. The pastor's wife went mad with fury.She directed her striking arm to the girl's face.Millennium crumpled up,howling in agony.She urinated,pleaded,spoke incoherently and went into convulsion. 'In the name of Jesus,you shall confess!' The pastor thundered,his whip whistling down at her. 'Amen,'cried the other tormentors,and their canes descended,too.It continued with so much vigour and tempo,allowing no respite between each slash.When every modicum of strength deserted her,she could no longer cry.She could only watch the cruel-looking canes and whips alight on her recipient body,soar into the air then return with renewed force and pristine pain.Blood streamed from her welts and tears cascaded down her cheeks.Her breath soon began to fail her.It wasn't long before the vision fled from her eyes. A cold splash of water to her face revived her. 'Get up,you hell-bound demon!' 'You think you can deceive us,then run straight to your coven for help.You will not live to see the light of the sun.' The pastor had commanded the whipping to cease when she fainted.And while it lasted,the seer retained his calm disposition, still grounding his teeth rhythmically.The pastor's directive didn't go down well with his wife;they should have whipped her till resuscitation came,calling. 'Why don't you help yourself and confess?' The pastor asked Millennium. She dared not venture a reply. 'Do you know that by refusing to confess,you are drawing nigh to your grave?' It sounded incredulous.She was almost lifeless as severe pain travelled through her body like a ravaging fire.The room was humid,and her sweat merged with her tears;stung her eyes,then spilled down in two serpentine rivulets. 'Don't you understand?' He went on: 'Do you know that if you don't confess your atrocities to God,you will surely die.' 'We are not here to negotiate with this witch,'bawled his wife,'let's get down to our business!' Cold shivers swept down Millennium's spine. 'Now listen to me,' said the pastor with an edge to his voice,'you must confess now if you want to come out of this place alive.' 'I am not a witch,' said Millennium,weakly. 'We shall see about that.' The pastor whispered into the ears of a disciple.He departed and returned with a bottle.Millennium espied it:It had a crimson smudge,perhaps the blood of someone who had been through it all . The pastor uncorked the bottle and tipped a generous measure of the substance the bottle contained on his palm.The faint light of the hurricane lamp fell on his palm,yet she could not tell what it was.The pastor's wife pounced on her and tore apart her pants.Then two disciples held her legs wide apart.It was futile trying to free herself from their grip with her puny strength.He crouched over her and sent the substance flying into her vagina.She let out a blood-curdling scream.Her arms were free, and she let at the person nearest to her with her hand.The pain gnawed away at her private part like pepper,moistening it.The pastor applied more.She spat in his face,her screams echoing into the eerie night.His wife slapped her. Again,the pastor applied more. 'I won't stop until you confess.' She had never known the pain of the first thrust,breaking the hymen.But this was worst. It was as though a red-hot blade had been plunged into her orifice;just as the sardonic soldiers did to their female captors in the Civil War footage she had seen. He caught her watering eyes with his hand; rubbing the substance over them.No one could save her,hasten to her rescue,arrested by her ear-splitting screams.They were going to kill her if she still denied their charge.Yes,she was a witch.Quite unfortunate.She was responsible for the death of her uncle. Yes,she was.She afflicted her aunt's womb with barreness so she would have no cousins. Yes,she did.She drove away her aunt's suitors and retarded the progress of the church with her vile craft.What else did she not admit to.?She was guilty,not fit to live and be loved. 'Good,' said the pastor. Madam Bridget came to the church in the morning.The pastor led her to see Millennium.One look at the girl,and her eyes glistened with unshed tears.The pastor didn't notice it.He was full of praises to God for a successful deliverance. 'You see my sister,'he was saying,'your niece's deliverance was the toughest.She fought us with every power at her disposal.' Two long tears slid down.The pastor didn't see it,for he had his back turned to her and was leering at Millennium. 'It got to a point that I had to ask God if he had forgotten he called me to the ministry.' What ministry? Her heart wailed.Is it the ministry where kids have their skins peeled off so that they look like pigs? 'She confessed to all the atrocities God exposed.This orphan,here.It happened immediately I invoked the Holy Ghost fire upon her.How I wish you were here.I,Elishama,made her howl like a mad dog.' Madam Bridget had the impulse to charge the pastor. 'Anyway God has decreed that she must be returned whence she came!' He delivered this bombshell as effortlessly as one spooned garri into his mouth.Her legs couldn't carry her anymore.She leaned against the wall for support. 'But why?' She heard herself stutter.'Can't she remain with me?' 'She is a witch,'he replied,'and the bible says a witch must not live.' 'But she has been delivered.Why shouldn't she remain with me?' He had no answer to that. 'If you don't obey the voice of God,you will regret it.' His voice was a whiplash.