Miracle Rituals (Church miracles at the cost of blood)



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  © Alfred May, 2013.

   

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  Miracle Rituals (Church miracles at the cost of blood)

  They give themselves titles, acquire wealth, and display healing powers….

  They prophecy, bind and set free by demonic incantations….

  They claim to be noble priests to hoodwink us….

  They are assassins killing for rituals….

  They are breed sudden death….

  It is time to expose them!

  *****

  These are true-life stories.

  The places and location are precise.

  The dates were when the records were made.

  “Beware of false prophets, which come to you in sheep's clothing, but inwardly they are ravening wolves.    Ye shall know them by their fruits.   Do men gather grapes of thorns, or figs of thistles?  Even so every good tree brings forth good fruit; but a corrupt tree brings forth evil fruit.   A good tree cannot bring forth evil fruit; neither can a corrupt tree bring forth good fruit.   Every tree that brings not forth good fruit is hewn down, and cast into the fire.  Wherefore by their fruits ye shall know them.”

  ―The Holy Bible (KJV).

  CASE ONE

  December, 2012.

  Prophetess Bola Clara

  (Blessings After the Grave)

  I had fallen asleep on an arm chair in the sitting room where I was watching a program on the television. The program was mixed grill, a program broadcasted by the state television company to beam the rave of the moments in the music industry to her teeming viewers. It features the Top 10 music and the Top 5 videos in the hip-hop, soul, contemporary and jazz musical entertainment industry in the country. It also features thrillers of the best five movies in all categories in the film industry. The program is being aired every two weeks, and I was privilege to be at home when the latest edition is been aired.

  The music chart was still at number eight when I had dozed off. I have a justification for that. I am a heavy user of the internet who had spent the previous night working on a web application project which I aimed to publish to the whole wide world as my little contribution to it.

  I couldn’t blame myself for slumbering. May be I was even drooling….

  Suddenly, the front door of my family house swayed open and swung to hit the wall of the living room―it always does. The way the house was built, the door always opens inwards and it often hits the inner wall of the house if opened care-freely.

  I jumped out of the chair on which I was seated. I tried to knock out sleep from my eyes by shaking my head slightly left and right, and rubbing my eyes with the index finger of my right hand.

  Who is it that had the audacity to open the door to this house without knocking? My brain was trying to communicate with my mind….

  “Hey boy, how are you?”

  It is my mother. That’s how she greets when she enters the house. My mum is a teacher at one of the public secondary schools in the state. She teaches computer studies to junior year students from year one to year three. She often comes home by 3:30pm every day because she closes from her work by 2:00pm; except when there is a meeting or other official assignments that made her come home later. My mother is the loquacious type. In fact, most times I complain to my siblings about my mother. She talks too much. She often comes back with one story or the other from her office. If the story is not about her students, it will be about her colleagues; if it is not about her colleagues, then it will be about the principal of her school. She always has a story to tell. Anyways, that is what keeps our house lively. She is the ‘ginger your swagger machine’ that keeps our house bubbling with life. When she’s not in town our house would be as quiet as if it is the abode of dumb living-mummies. As usual as my mum, today, she back came with a new story.

  “That woman is dead.”

  “Which woman?” I asked, disinterestedly. I just don’t want any of that today, I had thought.

  “That prophetess that always preaches on TV every Wednesdays.”

  “I don’t know her.” I replied. My replies were witty. I wanted her to be angry so that she could stop the story. It could be one of those gossips I hate you know?

  My mother likes relating stories when it is still freshly hot. She likes telling people around her hot facts and latest happenings around her. I rarely listen. She would notice that and get annoyed with me. She would stop her story and switch on the twenty-one inches Sharp coloured television in the sitting room if there is electricity supply from the electricity board. When there’s no power supply, she would simply keep her mouth shut and lie on the settee to take a nap. That is just an act. She would still later revisit her story. According to her, what must be told must be told.

  “Aha! Alfred, you know her. That woman that has a very big church along Ado-Owo road. That prophetess that preaches on television on Wednesdays. She always swore by the name of Almighty God that if she were a false prophet, God should smite her.” My mother paused to observe if I got her description. My brain ran digital electronic processing signals around its cerebellum, thalamus and hypothalamus. Within seconds, I was able to access the database where I had stored the location of the church. I connected to the database. My mum was right. I could remember the location of the church along Ado-Owo road, the road that lead to Akure from Benin City the Edo state capital in Nigeria where I was redeployed for my mandatory National Youth Service Corps. I knew the road like the palm of my hands. Just then I knew my reasoning database has been activated.

  “Yes, yes, I could remember her,” I replied with the enthusiasm of someone showing a new interest in a conversation.

  “She is dead.”

  There was grave silence between us for about six seconds.

  “What happened to her? An accident? Or was she ill?”

  “No, she died after a confession.”

  “As in?” I asked in a popular West African English.

  “She confessed that she buried a pregnant woman under her church building after one of her church services….”

  ********

  That was all I could remember that we talked about for that day. But I decided to research the story further. These were my findings:

  A pregnant woman had come to the prophetess for prayers. The prayer was for a safe delivery of the baby in her womb. The prophetess asked the expectant mother to come back in the evening of the same day for the church’s weekly prayer night. The pregnant woman thanked the prophetess and left. She later came back that evening for prayers. When it was midnight, four evil-looking men who were also part of the congregation shot guns in the air. They ordered everybody in the church out of the church, but they did not allow the pregnant woman to go. She was kidnapped. Her mouth was forcefully sealed with a thick black masking tape. Her hands were tied behind her back, and she was carried deep into a bush. That same night, the four hefty men used diggers and shovel to dig a grave at the center of the church inside the church building. They used lamps and a torchlight for lighting since everywhere was dark. The men left. They later came back with the pregnant woman dragged out from the bush. Despite her restraint and struggles, she was lowered alive into the grave. The earth that was previously dug out of the ground was used to seal her inside the grave. One of the men was a witch doctor. Immediately the grave was sealed, he sprinkled some bl
ack powder on the grave while making incantations:

  Ohun abati’wi fun ogbo lobgo ngbo

  Ohun abati’wi fun ogba logba ngba

  Kose kose bayi n’tilakose

  Ohun ti moba tiwi loni aran ran mo

  Oya eyin eniyan emaaya bo

  Lati origun meererin agbanla aye

  Eje abi’a amo ooo!

  Ori omo tuntun jojo lo ooo!

  Egbe ire waba Prophetess Bola Clara

  Esu laalu ogiri oko

  Eyin aye o

  Eyin iyaami osoro monifia

  Egba, ohunje yin ree ooo.

  The incantation is being interpreted as:

  Whatever instruction they give ‘ogbo’

  That is what ogbo will hear

  Whatever advice you give ‘ogba’

  That is what he will heed

  The snail cannot live but hiss and salivate

  Anything I say today shall come to pass

  Men and women from all over the world

  Begin to troupe to this church

  The fresh blood of this pregnant woman oh

  The destiny of her foetus oh

  Bring success to Prophetess Bola Clara

  Hail Satan the most powerful

  Witches and wizards I greet you

  The highest powers that be in

  The coven spirits I call on you

  Take our sacrifice of the pregnant woman

  She is your meat oh.

  The witch doctor then instructed the prophetess to kneel on the grave. She obeyed. He then imparted her and gave her charms and medicines to plant in the four corners of the church. She collected the charms and did as she was instructed.

  Under one year, the church grew to one of the largest churches in the city. People were trouping into the church in hundreds and thousands.

  Prophetess Clara became an instant solution giver to peoples’ problems. She could see into the future and predict what will happen in the next minute. If she prophesied about a thing, it would surely come to pass. She could command the moon to standstill; she could move mountains from Everest to New York. She was extremely intoxicated by powers from the dark world. People were led to her church by the highly-uncommon kind of miracles she works.

  *******

  Earlier, the husband of the missing pregnant woman had visited the prophetess to ask the whereabouts of his wife from her. He came after two days of waiting at home without his expectant wife. Bola denied ever seeing a pregnant woman that fit the husband’s description in her church premise. She even swore by the name of Almighty God that she never saw anybody like his pregnant wife. The husband of the pregnant woman was disturbed. He went to the police to report the matter, but since he had no clear evidence that his wife was in the church premise that day, the police took the man’s statement after which he was sent home. Nothing happened. Flies did not even perch on prophetess Clara.

  Clara’s spiritual powers were increasing by the day. She became a demigod to her congregation of brainwashed faithfuls. Her church members often consult her for projects they want to execute before they even think about starting it at all.

  “Great mother of the Prophets, I want to embark on a journey to Abuja to see my Uncle. Should I go on the trip?”

  It was Dr. Fredrick Bade one of Clara’s faithfuls who had asked the question. He was an elderly man in his mid-fifties. At that age, he was much older than the Prophetess who was in her late thirties. But he went on his knees while addressing her. It was a sign of respect to show that he revere and honor her anointing and great powers. To him, she was immortal, invincible, impenetrable, the wisest, the seer and a goddess.

  “No, don’t go on that journey. I see calamity. I see doom. And I see death on your way. ”

  Fred thanked the prophetess and went home. When he got home, he told his wife what the prophetess told him.

  “So because that prophetess said you should not visit your uncle, you will defer the journey henh?” Fred’s wife asked him.

  “I won’t go,” Fred affirmed.

  “Maybe you’ve forgotten why you have to go. Your uncle called you to come and collect the Certificate of Ownership of one of his landed properties, and you don’t want to go because a woman asked you not to go? Are you dating her? Or is she our God?”

  Fred had no choice than to heed his wife’s advice. He boarded a bus shuttling Abuja from a park in Akure. Alas! Fred did not get to Abuja. The bus he boarded was involved a terrible accident. The bus somersaulted two times mid-air before toppling over, crashing into the thick forest along the highway. It was a fourteen passenger bus and it had on board fourteen passengers. Six passengers died in the accident. Fred was among the deceased.

  The news of Fred’s death got to his wife. She cried bitterly, biting her fingers and stamping her feet on the floor in her wailings. She felt the pang of the sting of guilt running in her veins and across her mourning heart. She was totally distressed. She had pushed her husband to his death bed. How will she cope? What is there left in this world for her to do? Marry another man? Live single or what?

  To add salt to her injury, Fred’s family sent Tina (for that was her name) packing. They labeled her a murderer; a witch. She was kicked out of Fred’s house and sent into the hard life of the streets.

  ********

  Elsewhere, the news of Fred’s death got to Prophet Clara’s congregation of faithfuls. This made her church members consult her more for their future plans. She became God personified to them. She seals their weddings; breaks relationships; gives children to the childless; gives promotion to the downtrodden and does hundreds of miracles.

  In her program on the state owned television, she would invite people to her church.

  “Come to me with your problems and I will solve them.” She would claim.

  On the day when God the omnipotent caught up with her, she was in her room holding a charm in her right-hand. On the floor were seven candles. Two were white-colored candles; one was black; two were red; the others were blue and cream candles. The picture of a true man of God was in her left-hand. Clara was conjuring the demon of death from the pit of hell to go and kill the man of God.

  Before this night, some events had happened.

  ********

  Fred’s wife after her exit from her matrimonial home had been restless. She had series of nightmares in which her husband’s ghost was chasing her in her dreams. Sometimes, the ghost will catch-up with her and strangle her as if to choke life out of her.

  When it became unbearable for her, she committed suicide.

  ********

  Jesus Christ appeared to Pastor Joshua Bells in a dream….

  “My son, go and warn prophetess Clara to desist from her evil ways. Tell her the host of heaven and the twenty-four elders in heaven are angry with her. Tell her to confess her sins; tell her to repent and give her life to me. I am merciful; my mercies endure forever. If she can repent of her sins, I will accept her. I will purify her and I will make her a newborn.” The voice of Jesus Christ was reverberating in Pastor Joshua’s ears for several minutes.

  Joshua picked his bible and visited Clara. He gave his warnings exactly the way he had received them from heaven above. He forthwith took his leave. That was what angered Prophetess Clara. So a mere mortal, an unknown and rankless Pastor can come to me and threaten me? She asked in her mind.

  “Aha!” she said it out loud. “You, Joshua came to me to warn me a prophet of prophets.” Her eyes were beaming anger and hatred. She was patting heavily like a woman chased by a dog. She rushed into her room and shut the door behind her in great furry. This was the day God caught up with her.

  ********

  She conjured the death demon. Her room twirled round its axis. Objects began to fly around. The room suddenly developed heat and hotness. The candle lights brightened and went off at once throwing the candle flame outwards like a ripple of water. The candle flame that blew away from the candle encircled the whole room. The candle flames became magni
fied, made a frightening ‘gbum’ sound as it went out, becoming a thick smoke in the process. The king-sized bed in the room flew like a tossed coin towards Prophetess Clara’s direction. It was dark inside the room. Clara couldn’t dock. The bed hit her and flung her away like a pile of refuse. She covered some imaginable distance mid-air before crashing against the wall of the room. She was sweating profusely as the room grew hotter. The window blinds suddenly flung to one side of the window. It was like the way one will open the blinds to allow fresh air into the room. The burglary compressed and dropped like a sheet of paper. Then she felt something entered her room. Chill gripped her. She has never conjured the demon of death before. Pastor Joshua made her do it today. The figure standing before her looked like a shadow towering up beyond the ceiling of her room. When it entered, the ward rope suddenly flung open, shut, open, shut, and finally flung open with a kind of force that would break a pillar. All her clothes in the wardrobe dropped on the floor. The hangers in her wardrobe scampered to different directions. The only refrigerator in the room did a slow gliding motion, and then its speed swiftly increased as it swung to hit the door. The door creaked and splintered into pieces. The refrigerator crashed away from the door into the darkness beyond the room.

  “What do you want from me?” The demon asked her with a thunderous voice.

  “I want you to go to Joshua’s house and kill him.”

  The demon left. The candlelight came back on immediately. The prophetess staggered to her feet with the joy of accomplishment.

  The demon indeed got to Joshua’s house but could not gain entrance. An angel from God was there holding a flaming sword in his hands. The demon disappeared out of sight. God sent lightning and thunderstorm to Clara’s. She was hit. The lightning struck half of her body along the line of symmetry; it burnt and paralyzed the half completely. That was when she confessed to her sins. It was the story of her confession that my mother had heard and brought to me.

  ********

  Prophetess Clara later died. The remaining half of her body was eaten alive by worms. Nobody could save her. She was left to rotten in her church. Her death was gruesome.

  “My son, attend unto my wisdom, and bow your ear to my understanding: That thou may regard discretion, and that thy lips may keep knowledge. For the lips of a strange woman drop as a honeycomb, and her mouth is smoother than oil: But her end is bitter as wormwood, sharp as a two-edged sword. Her feet go down to death; her steps take hold on hell. Lest thou should ponder the path of life, her ways are moveable, that thou canst not know them. Hear me now therefore, O ye children, and depart not from the words of my mouth. Remove thy way far from her, and come not nigh the door of her house: Lest thou give your honour unto others, and thy years unto the cruel: Lest strangers be filled with thy wealth; and thy labour be in the house of a stranger; and thou mourn at the last, when thy flesh and thy body are consumed, and say, How have I hated instruction, and my heart despised reproof; and have not obeyed the voice of my teachers, nor inclined mine ear to them that instructed me! I was almost in all evil in the midst of the congregation and assembly. Drink waters out of your own cistern, and running waters out of your own well. Let thy fountains be dispersed abroad, and rivers of waters in the streets. Let them be only your own….”