Squirrels and Palm trees

     The smoke of the incense was one I didn’t enjoy very much when it was too thick, but I must admit, it was fascinating. From the chants and hymns sung in Igbo, to the various readings and the homily, then to the Eucharist. It reverberated a mix of the western and Nigerian culture, it was a delightful union to watch.

  My eyes would constantly wander towards the happy faces of the men and women playing the local instruments, then to the joyful eyes of the choristers as they released beautiful singing voices in praise to God. 

   My joy was always short-lived during the thanksgiving mass – my stomach would groan in hunger as I watched family after family reel out in gratitude, they would speak highly of how blessed their lives were and then make huge donations causing the church to applaud their show of wealth, sometimes it was a competition of who made the biggest donations. The Pentecostal churches I attended back in the city weren’t any better.

  After mass was another moment I usually looked forward to, I would get home to a bowl of rice and stew waiting for me. As I sat on my usual spot on the verandah to eat, my eyes will spot squirrels running up and down the palm trees on the farm, their speed was unmatched and awesome.