The Makeshift Church

It was from Ikeja; the destination, Berger. It was supposed to be a normal Lagos journey with gridlocks, curses, reckless driving et al. Yeah, it was all these but what caught my attention in the bus was the conduct of a mini-church service. The officer-in-charge was a man in his early fifties, donned in a checked shirt, with a polka dotted tie with a dark blue background, which had obviously seen better times. The fellow passengers were those you would find in a normal danfo bus- a lady dressed in a floral designed shirt with a matching denim sat beside me whole heartedly pressing her Blackberry phone, two guys chatting happily beside the somnolent-faced driver, a boy in his late teens wearing a ‘NO ONE HAS SWAGGA ON MY STREET LIKE ME’ shirt which made me question his definition of swagga, a smartly dressed man whose ears were plugged with earpiece, a guy wearing a worn-out Arsenal jersey, traders returning with their wares et al. A few seconds into the journey, the service began. Oops! Thought this was limited to interstate buses. Everyone seemed engrossed in his own activity that they seemed oblivious of a man preaching the gospel at the top of his voice. The driver was trying to maneuver his way through the traffic jam while a toy-like car, Kia Rio was proving a hard nut to crack. This went on for minutes until the bus came lively. The pastor had just mentioned a prayer point and the passengers roared in unison ‘AMEN’. Wow… so awon ti e n gbo nnkan ti pastor n preach lataro?! Motivated, the pastor raged on. From one prayer point to the other, the man kept on. With each came an equally thunderous amen… So this rickety and old moving metal, dotting Lagos’ roads, called danfo has turned to a mobile church! After a few minutes, it was time for offering. In my mind, my mouth was already ajar! Offering ke?! That was how people started dipping hands in bags/wallets/pockets, with the same hands emerging seconds later with different denominations, going towards the direction of the pastor. Pastor Bright (later got his name) later gave his phone number for people with problems to call him. I later learnt that a good samaritan, (abi shey na church member) had volunteered to pay the pastor’s transport fare. Doesn’t it pay to be a clergyman in Lagos?! 😉


3 responses to “The Makeshift Church

  1. Nice. Yeah, it pays 😉


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