I
strolled into the office at about some few minutes past 7AM and decided to get
some rest before I began my daily routine. Rest was usually scrolling through
Instagram videos, catching up on trends on Twitter and Nairaland and sometimes
reading crazy answers on Quora. My colleague, the feisty Lisa also came in
early, and as usual she was multitasking; pressing phone, applying her makeup
and doing an awful rendition of Johnny Drill’s Shine.
She
suddenly went mute and made a grimace in the middle of the foundation of the
building she was going to transform her face into, she stared into her phone
hard with so much concentration. After a few seconds, she muttered “Thank you
lord”. I tried to figure out what was capable of infusing so much shock and
evoking praise at the same time, I came up with nothing, so I gave in to my
curiosity.
“What’s
that?” I asked, tilting towards her work station and trying not to seem too
concerned.
She
turned the screen of her phone to me; she was apparently on WhatsApp going
through Pastor Matthew’s story. The story had an Image of a lifeless boy, not
more than 10 years old lying on the floor, his eyes were widely opened, bulging
out of his skull as if to say his eyelids were not enough to cover them. His
rib cage protruded, one could count his 12 ribs and see the hollow in his belly
from a distance. His slim legs were curled awkwardly with his right leg on top
of his left, forming a cross like shape. I was sure he stopped living before he
died, but I couldn’t tell what killed him; was it the freezing pavement he was
laying on or the emptiness in his belly or the disappointment he must have felt
for the society? I imagined his last moments lying helplessly on the pavement, staring
at anything that crossed his view, not for the love of the sight but for lack
of strength to move his head or even blink his eyes to chase the flies perching
on his pupils. The picture had a caption that read ‘This could be you, but you
are alive and well this morning, don’t forget to give God the praise’. The
caption had a ‘high five’ emoji which we have converted to praying hands. After
a few seconds of staring at the image and the caption, I was filled with a short-lived
sadness which was immediately replaced by anger. “This is so wrong” I blurted
out.
She
looked at me, unsure of what I meant. I knew she didn’t get it, I had to spell
it out to her.
“Another
man’s misfortune shouldn't be the reason for your praise, it’s wrong for anyone
anywhere anytime to use such a picture in blackmailing people into praising God.
This image if anything, is supposed to engender questions and rebellion against
any system that makes people, especially children go through such horror. If
any god intends to put people through this because it was not praised or
reverenced as your pastor wants me to believe, then your pastor and his god
need to …”
