LOVE MUST BE CRAZY by Winlade Isreal

EPISODE ONE

EPISODE ONE
Anytime I remember my days in children church, I ponder on how I crossed from the lane of decency to that of promiscuity. Buchi Federal Government Mixed Secondary School was greatly revered for its destiny-changing craft. When I was admitted as the only boy, though the youngest out of over hundred other candidates in my church’s zonal association to proceed to drink from the golden cup springing intellectual wisdom from its buildings, my father became troubled instead of exuding an endless joy for the pride I just brought to the family.
Being the General Overseer of Plead My Case, Oh Lord Praying Ministry (PMCOLPM), Pastor Adeku preferred a school where his only begotten son could be free from worldly influence. BFGMSS, really was the school that topped the list of schools he never wished to dream for his son who has been destined to take up the torch of faith to light the world and erect an unbreakable wall on the foundation already laid for PMCOLPM to grow in all the corners of the earth. BFGMSS is not a bad school. It is, to say nothing but the truth, a leading learning institution which has bagged several national, continental and intercontinental awards of excellence. If not for the epidemic of immorality which painted the school a black sheep in 2005, it would have been the most sought secondary institution in the world. More than 30000 applications are submitted every blessed year out of which two thousand applicants are admitted. Barr. Isaac, my father’s friend refused to believe this statistics. But, after much thought and analysis, he was forced to agree it could be true. In Nigeria was one of the best schools in the world, a public school which belongs to the children who walks as friends of the masses with power tucked in their agbada. The academic excellence the school has been nurturing consistently wooed my mum but the eminence of immorality and worldliness in the school discouraged Dad. He wanted a decent boy in whom the fear of the Lord could find a temple to occupy.
The school was still redeeming its name with promises of a better academic society where students are not only brilliant but cultured when I made the shortlist of the few chosen ones out of the multitude who looked up to be chosen.
‘Your son deserves a lot of accolades,’ Mum said at the dining that night to announce the good news she had anticipated to dad.
‘What has he done this time?’ quizzed Dad looking curious. ‘Is it because of his hard work in the kitchen?’ he joked.
‘He is a hardworking Nigerian. I am proud to be the mother of a student of BFGMSS,’ she said with her shoulders raised high to fly her pride.
‘That’s good. But, the school is not the plan of God for his life.’
‘Is that God speaking or you?’
‘Whether me or God, my decision is final!’
‘That is not right. He is your son and I am his mother’’
‘I have spoken and my word is final’
‘We shall see who owns the farm between the hunter setting trap and the targeted game,’ Mum said defiantly.
The family dinner ended in dispute as it had been several times. I wished it ended the way it began. I was wrong for praying when the agents who would prove the potency of my prayer are stubborn hearted, always rigid, calling for war in the face of peace.
Everybody, including Aunty Ajoke knew why Dad developed a strong will in this matter. It was the fight at a birthday party in the school that claimed two lives. The party, as newsmen reported, metamorphosed to a fight when the floor was cleared for dance. Juokwu had brought Aminat just to serve him for the night. But, at the party, Suleiman, the son of the Honourable Minister of Justice used his influence as the Badoo of his goons to get Aminat from the seat beside Juokwu to his custody. He rocked her, danced with her with his mind focused on the end goal- the main exercise slated for the after party. Juokwu admitted it was a slap on his personality and determined not to just rub his cheeks and shift his gaze off the issue. He gathered his friends and challenged Suleiman. Suleiman had no time for argument. He believed in action. No wonder they called him Abacha. He was always ready to crush any insect that appeared on his mortar. This night people thought it would be a usual physical combat. But, it turned out to be a bloody one which served the grave with two lives. Dad counted this story several time to Mum. But, her ears were already deaf to everything he said. If there were something that could cure her deafness, it was going to be the approval of Pastor. He feels the freedom given to students to organise a birthday party was costly. She reminded him how they had thought me the way of the Lord since birth and quoted the Principal. ‘Appropriate measures have been put in place to make sure adequate security is guaranteed,’ he had said during his interview on NTA.
When Dad became too stubborn to listen to the words Mum repeated as if she was sounding a particular number of hallelujah in church, I got fed up of his character and wished not to ever be like him. Aside the respect, fame and financial beauty he possessed, there were a lot of things I didn’t pray to have in common with him. Many people knew him only as the General Overseer of PMCOLPM. Nothing more beyond that. Maybe they can also recite his profile; how he rose from the mire to the rock. But, I knew a lot about him. For that, I wanted a break from a warring home.