Hi guys! First of all, apologies for not publishing yesterday. I got home super exhausted and decided to take a 30 minute nap before finishing up the post. Guess what? I woke up this morning. My mother woke me up several times but the body was weak. Nobody is happier about the Christmas holidays than I am. In other news, Christmas is here! Super exciting! Merry Christmas to each and every one of you!

Birthday shout outs to Sylvia, Amanda, the two Uncle Kofis, Oko, Suma and Kuukuwa.

As always, happy reading (albeit belated)! 

This was Maame Esi’s idea.

The youth service, that is.

She had said that it was an annual end of year service for the youth.

She had said that it would be fun and that it would mean a lot to her if Akwasi came. Of course, that won him over and he had managed to drag the entire squad of boys to church with him.

All of them.

Even the ones who never spoke on the group chat.

That was the thing about Akwasi- he knew how to move people.

He had found a way to make the service look cool, indirectly making it automatically attractive for the rest of them. He even made a joke about finally seeing the angels and demons on the group chat.

And so here they were, seated on one pew.

The youth pastor was preaching as though he was high on drugs- prancing up and down, making exaggerated gestures and screaming into the microphone. His veins were protruding like the belly of a woman who was in her ninth month of pregnancy. He had a huge white towel sprawled over his left shoulder and he was holding the microphone like a rap artiste. There were some over exuberant boys who were sitting in front and interjecting his sermon with ‘Mmh, deep!’, ‘Preach!’, and ‘You are dialing my number!’

Today’s topic was ‘Set yourself apart’.

‘Sexual immorality is a sin against God. Do you not know that your body is the temple of God and that the Holy Spirit dwells in you? Why are you defiling your body by having sex with someone you are not married to?’

Because her body is ravishing. You are right to call it a temple.

Joseph shifted in his seat. He didn’t mean to reply but then he could not help himself. He scanned the room as though everyone could read his mind and he was checking for their reactions.

That Korantemaa girl, darn!

She was a lot more experienced than she let on. Last night, they had had sex and she knew just what to do. He felt like the virgin in the room. The moves, the strokes, the different positions- she moved like a woman who knew what she was about. It was almost as if her waist was powered by Bui Dam. He had not seen anything like that- not in all his years of watching porn or his three attempts to ‘deflower’ Akosua, his next door neighbour.

He was the one who was exhausted after two rounds but it was a welcome distraction from the aftermath of the elections. He had started applying for jobs again. The possibility of new beginnings was a turn on, literally.

‘I repeat, sex outside the boundaries of marriage is sin. Yes, the entire world is screaming sex. If you want to sell a car, sex. If you want to be successful in the music business, release a song about sex. If you want to be popular on Twitter, be sexy. Everyday sex, everyday sex.’

The people in the congregation started murmuring amongst themselves. The boys in front had kept quiet- clearly Osofo was ‘dialing their numbers.’ The girls in the choir were also fidgeting. They looked like they had been doing more than just lifting up holy hands. It was only the over-exuberant Prayer Secretaries from campus who were on their feet, echoing whatever the pastor was saying.

‘Brethren, you need to flee from sexual sin. Can I hear an Amen? You see, this generation has to make a conscious effort to flee from sexual sin. Don’t sleep in the same room together, don’t listen to Sexual Healing, don’t send him nude pictures, don’t wear short skirts to his house, stop asking her what she is wearing. FLEE!’

What are you wearing?

Akwasi’s favourite question.

He had always asked his girlfriends that question, since time immemorial. Yes, including Maame Esi. She looked too innocent to send nudes but of course, nobody could escape Akwasi’s sweet tongue. Coupled with the fact that she was a doctor and was used to seeing naked bodies, he had an incessant flow of pictures on his phone.

That was why his phone was only unlocked by fingerprint verification. He also had a secret folder with a password for all his pictures. He looked at them when everyone was gone, when nobody was watching.

‘Our God is omniscient and omnipresent. This means he is all-seeing and all-knowing. He sees you when you are masturbating and he knows where your porn magazines are hidden. Infact he is right there with you when you reach for the Vaseline, when you prance and display your naked body for that boy to look at, like a Victoria’s Secret model.It is not worth it. You have been set aside for a purpose!’

Eish, Osofo.

The man get info roff! We all get Christmas plans wey the man dey spoil moves so..

Heart racing. Palms sweaty. Irregular breathing. Fidgety eyes and hands.

Mawuli was convinced that the pastor had read his diary before the service. Not that he actually had one- diaries were for girls and gay men, in his opinion. How did he know about the Vaseline? Masturbating had become his pastime especially since he didn’t have a job. Infact he had given himself a dose before turning up for the service. Now he was avoiding the pastor’s eyes.

‘If you don’t believe me, why do you ask your girlfriends to get the baby removed when they get pregnant? Abortion? God forbid it! As if fornication is not bad enough, you want to add murder to the list of sins. Wait! Wait until you are married. Honour God. Bring glory to him. Keep shame away from your home. Keep your eyes fixed on the goal.’

Abortion.

That was what the lady who came in earlier today was talking about.

Maku.

Yes, that was her name.

She was crying and her lips trembled when she asked if she would be allowed to have an abortion.

‘If you want a procedure done for you, you may have to go to Marie Stopes. May I ask why you want to have an abortion?’

‘My husband-‘

Her voice broke.

‘I don’t want to lose my husband. If we have another baby, he might never come back.’

‘What kind of man asks his wife to abort their child?’, Maame Esi thought to herself. 

‘Ir’s not too late to return to the path of righteousness. Jesus’ love is greater than your dirtiest secret or your biggest sin. He is more than ready to receive you and restore you. Return to the Father and let him wash you with his blood.’

Blood. Father.

Edem had had enough. He definitely did not intend to show up for this programme, but Maame Esi had asked him to and he still did not know how to say no to her.

‘It might just be what you need to get your mind off everything. Come to church with us. I don’t want you to be alone with your thoughts.’

What she didn’t know was that the thoughts followed him everywhere, even into churches where the youth pastor was preaching about sex.

Words like blood and father just painfully reminded him of that night in the hospital. He clinched his fists. Yes, he was angry all over again, just thinking about it. Irate, even.

‘How can you be my father? Where have you been all these years? How did you know where to find me? What do you want from me?’

‘I understand you have questions. We just need to sit down and talk.’

‘Don’t speak to me like we are friends or like I am your son. Even if it is true, you haven’t earned the right to. You understand nothing.’

He knew he was raising his voice but he was too upset to think straight. The contradictions were too many- his grandmother was not his grandmother, his parents were not his parents, this stranger claimed that he was his father. So he walked out on him.

Standing outside the church, he fidgeted with his phone until the idea occurred to him.

He dialled her number. Nadia’s number. Yes, the same girl he had vowed not to get close to, especially since she was going to get married.

‘Hey. Is this a bad time?’

‘No, what’s up?’

‘I am having a really crappy day. More like a crappy week. I just don’t want to be alone. I don’t want to think. I don’t want to be responsible Edem. I don’t even know what I want. Does it make sense?’

‘It doesn’t have to. Where are you?’

‘Church. I will send you the location via whatsapp.’

‘I am on my way.’

Twenty minutes later, he was hopping into her car, without so much as a goodbye to his friends. They both knew what was going to happen, what they had both been wanting to happen since the first day they shared a laugh together at Holiday Inn Annex.

It was like a well-rehearsed, synchronised dance. Her tank top went off at the same time that his trousers came off. While his friends were repenting of their various sexual sins, with their hands lifted up and reverent heads bowed, he was seeking refuge in the thrust of a woman’s thighs. 

A distraction. An escape. Anything really to get his mind off the tumult of feelings sweeping over him. 

He knew that he would probably regret it the next day but today he didn’t want to be sensible. 

He wanted sexual healing.

See you next week! 

P.S: When a series enters the double digits, you know we are ending that series soon. Merry Christmas, guys. Stay safe ❤