The Girl with the Louding Voice(84)

Why is Jesus looking like somebody in the Abroad? Maybe Jesus is from the Abroad?

There is a sharp smell in the air, and my nose follows it to the three green mosquito coils on the floor, bringing out gray, waving smoke. There are red candles on the floor too, I count fifteen of it around the leg of the altar.

“Alafia,” the prophet says.

“He says peace to you,” I whisper to Ms. Tia. “‘Alafia’ means ‘peace’ in Yoruba.”

Ms. Tia says “Alafia” back to the prophet.

Me, I greet the man good afternoon.

“Alafia,” he says to me, and rings the bell one time.

The doctor mama, she begins to talk to prophet in smooth Yoruba. She says Ms. Tia marry her son and was not having a baby in over one whole year since the marriage. That she is tired of praying and shouting for a baby, and she thinks maybe Ms. Tia has one evil spirit that is swallowing the baby. That Ms. Tia bring the spirit when she was coming and the evil spirit needs chasing off to go back to the Abroad. She cut her eye to me when she says this because she knows I am understanding her.

Me, I keep my eyes on the prophet’s feet. He doesn’t have shoes on. Toenails look burned.

“So, you brought her for the powerful bath,” the prophet says in English. “This is the land of solution, amen? The land of miracle. Twenty-four-hour miracle.” He coughs. “Did she bring cloth to change into? Because she will throw away the cloth she came here with. She has come with a garment of sorrow and barrenness; she will return with a garment of twins. Amen?”

“Just one baby,” I whisper.

“Twins,” the doctor mama says, eyeing me. “Amen. Two boys.”

“I have a pair of jeans and a fresh t-shirt in the boot,” Ms. Tia say.

“Good,” the prophet says. “Young woman, kneel here so I can pray for you first.”

Ms. Tia slides off the bench and kneels. Me and the doctor mama too, both of us we kneel. The prophet bounce to his feet, begins to go around Ms. Tia. He will go around one time, ring bell one time, his dress spreading up around him like the wings of an eagle. He will go around her two times, ring the bell two times. He does this like seven times, until he begins to look like he daze. I keep hearing the bell inside my head for like two minutes after he stopped ringing it.

When he begins to jump, up and down, clapping his two hands, saying, “Eli . . . jah . . . baby . . .” The doctor mama nods her head yes, yes, yes, and says: “Baby boys, baby boys.”

Ms. Tia peeps open one eye, looking like she is wanting to laugh, then close it back.

We stay like that on our knees, until the prophet man finish his bouncing and he says it is now time for the baby-making baff.





CHAPTER 45

Fact: Some of the richest pastors in the world live in Nigeria, with net worths reaching up to $150 million.

The prophet is bouncing in front of us, taking us through a path of red sand.

Green plants, full of thorns, with branches shaped like a hand with broken fingers, are sitting in clay flowerpots on each side of the path. Where the path ends, one woman, wearing the same dress as the prophet, meets us with a smile that looks like it is upside down. She reminds me of a housefly, this woman, with her lean body and arms which is full of hairs where her dark skin is showing, wide eyeballs that stretch a little to the side of her head, and the long, thin purple cloth around her body like slim wings. She is wearing the same cap as the prophet too, but her own looks like it is swelling. I peep a red wig under the cap, looking like something a car climbed over and crushed plenty times.

She kneels in front of the man. “Alafia.”

The man nods his head, puts his hand on her cap. “Peace to you too, Mother-in-Jerusalem.”

He turns to us. “This is Mother-in-Jerusalem Tinu,” he says. “She is the head of our female birth-makers. She is a powerful woman in the baby-making miracle ministry. You can call her Mother Tinu, she won’t mind. She will take our sister here with her to the river. Men are not allowed, so I will wait behind.”

Ms. Tia makes a noise like something pinched her. “Right now? Can we not, like, do this later? I just need time to think. To gather my thoughts.”

“Have you gone around her seven times with the bell?” Mother Tinu asks the prophet. “Because once that has happened, the bath must follow. No going back.” She smiles. “It will be quick.”

“Can Adunni still come with me?” Ms. Tia asks.

“Foolishness,” the doctor mama says. “Utter foolishness.”

“Adunni, you can come with us,” the Mother Tinu says. “You must keep your eyes closed throughout the ceremony. This is not a film cinema.”

“Yes, ma,” I say.

“Go,” the prophet say. “After the bath, meet me in the church to collect the special cream you will use to rub your body.”

“Cream too?” Ms. Tia says. “Well, how about a suite at the Ritz-Carlton and a limo ride back home? You said this was just a bath.”

“We can discuss this later,” the doctor mama says, talking with her teeth grinding together. “For now, please, just comply.”

“Follow me,” Mother Tinu says.

We follow her behind, turn left into another path. The red sand is wet under my feet, cold, with rocks pushing into my shoe.