Waking up at the sleeping hours of dawn, and being interrupted just when you are about to peak orgasm; I couldn’t tell which is excruciating though given the chance I would opt for the former.
What could make one beat themselves with such thought is a probable question that is running through our readers mind; so beneath is what prompted the thought.
The influx of these preacher men, Evangelist or whatever names they’ve earned for themselves is just intolerable if you ask me. Is waking up at dawn just to continue with our endless “hustle” not a laden painful enough to bear?
Though I am an inconsistent victim of these supposed men of God, I promised myself to keep mute and swallow the bitter pill in silence. My recent encounter however ticked my livid box.
After queuing and practically fighting for a vehicle, I sit in the not so comfortable ‘trotro’ only for a man to stand right in front of me to give a sermon. Had I run out of luck that much to go through such ordeal in one morning?
Sincerely I’ve never like the likes of that, and I’ve always thought they are just using the almighty holy book to survive the cruelty the world comes with. I plugged in my earphones, started nodding back and forth and soaked myself in nothingness.
My phone was off and I didn’t want to give even a negligible audience to the preacher man. It was as if my demeanour came with how hell was going to be like. The preacher man who started preaching salvation begun talking about the hair-do, makeups and the dresses the youth of today go with.
I needn’t be told I had provoked that message because my hair was dyed and my face was adequately made up with “cheap cosmetics.”
Don’t they always say in Akan that “akutia nim ni wura”. At that very instance I was raving mad because that wasn’t the first time the likes of him had used the name of God and his kingdom to ridicule and stigmatize me.
I raised my hands to the surprise of the people who were in the car and asked him why he was talking about me. Of course he denied and said he was only a messenger of his father, whoever that father is I don’t even know but I doubt he is the creator they’ve talked so much about.
“I just hope you sit at the high table with that father of yours when that day comes…” was all I could tell him as I watched his face cloud in what seemed like utmost shame.
I prompted the mate and alighted at the next stop though that wasn’t my destination. And such personality is just one of the many people who have an unprecedented experience with the bar that “God” has to appoint them personal judges.
The way Ghanaians are indiscriminately judging their fellow is not funny anymore. One has to clad himself in pretence and conform to societal values. I do not give a hoot to the beliefs of others.
Whomever and whatever one decides to bow to and call God is so not my business. Since we won’t rush to put our hands in a burning fire, I believe I could boldly say we are all consenting adults and can easily without an iota of doubt distinct right from wrong.
What is my business is when people decide to slit their beliefs, norms and values down our throat, I

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