Pastor's Wife

Pastor’s Wife

pastor's wife by nkem meniru

“Gem….”

Pastor Gem Els was tired after a very long day at the office.

He had spent all day going through the message he would deliver the next day. He had come back late, and dozed off, and was snoring away.

“Gem,” his wife whispered again into his ears, shoving him.

The bed sheets rustled. He stirred, stretched his hands, blinking at the dull light streaming into the room.

“Matie…what is it this time,” he asked.

“We don’t need all these.”

“We do not need... what?”

“Our children have grown and dispersed. We don’t need this house anymore. It is so big and frightening. I don’t want here anymore.”

Pastor Gem thought for a while. He knew his wife well. That most of the time, she would threw mud at someone to cover up her intention. But for her to disturb his sleep at this hour meant something else.

“Matie…Matie….,” he called her. “I feel at home. The songs of birds, the whispering of the pines and the rustling of leaves, the fountain water cascading down and geese splashing in the pool, the blossoming flowers, the rainbows….”

“No Honey! I see vultures flying about. Bats are hanging on stumps and in the ceilings, and those ghosts are still walking around.”

“Matie, you are at this again! I thought we are through with this worry.”

She held his shoulders. And began sobbing.

“I am not dreaming. It is real, Gem. Sell off everything…we need a quiet life.”

The husband sat up, and reclined on the bed rest, glaring at her.

“There is no going back, dear. We came a long way…have you forgotten so soon? You fought me over food. You fought me over clothes. You fought me over everything….”

“Yes Honey, I did then what I did... in good sense. Now, I am beside myself. The shadows are pursing me... crying for help. Please help me out of this bondage. Dispose this building. Dispose the limousines. Dispose the helicopter. We don’t need it. Whatever money in Panama account, please retrieve it. And give them out. Please save my soul.”

“Matie, we are hits. God has seen the work of our hands and has blessed us. Our Lord is good. We should be grateful to Him. And enjoy what He has given to us with pleasure.”

The woman came down the bed, and walked to the dressing table. In the mirror, she was looking lost. She could see her chubby face. Tears were streaming down. She picked a serviette and daubed it.

“I wasn’t born rich, but happy,” she spoke in a low voice. “I had nothing…not a land cruiser nor a flying machine. Sometimes my dad’s old car broke down. My siblings and I would trek to school…to church. But I was happy. I grew up a happy child. But today, where are our three children? They have the money. They have every toy in the world, and fun too. But a lot of things are missing. They are not happy.

Gemstone Jnr is serving a five year….”

“Don’t go there,” he yelled, his eyes bulging, glaring, and swooping down at her.

Quickly she shut her mouth with her palm, panting for breath.

He came down from the bed and strolled to her. He bent low and kissed her cheek. Then he touched her shoulders.

“We have to give thanks to God.”

She was in a very bad mood. Looking sadly at him in the mirror.

He was still short but now chunky and overweight, and light skinned. I bought his first shoes, and first belts, and his first pants…and fed him. I changed him to somebody. I made him what he is…. Now his is a big boy! I have endured enough! Yesterday, he was in Jamaica. Today, he is in London. And tomorrow, he will be in South Africa. I won’t be living like this…like a stock fish that would eventually end up in the pot of soup. Right now, they are mocking me in facebook…in googles, and in the streets. Those women and girls he lodged in brothels all over the world, she thought, letting out a phony toxic smile.

“We won’t continue like this,” she whispered, gasping, staring at him in the mirror. “Give back their things to them. It is time to pay back. We are not getting young. There is joy in starting again.”

“What!” he shouted. And withdrew his hands from her shoulders.

“We are frauds…we are swindlers. We stole everything from the congregation in the name of God. Everything we are doing is empty show. We collected and collected and collected from poor people. And lied and lied and lied to them. We are among the false teachers….Tell me what we have ever done for anyone, that we’ve not defrauded him. Even that widow, Mama Robinson...we took away everything she had.”

“Oh…woman, spare me this talk! Our comfort is the Lord’s doing.”

“No, it is not. We should dispose them. And fund our members whose children aren’t going to school because they do not have funds. There are many in our church who cannot afford food. And here we are living lavishly, scraping their bones.”

What she is looking for, thought Pastor Gem Els.

He went to the rest room. After a while, she heard flushing of toilet. And washing and splashing of water. She quickly ran to the message on the table. As she was reading it, he came into the room. A strong fragrance filled the room. He was completely dressed up in pale blue suit, pale blue tie, and pale blue shoes.

“Can you see the lies? Can see your lies…your life? We are shams. I am out of this…really!”

They have sent her again. I will teach them lessons of their lives. By the time, I come back to this house, this marriage will either settle or unsettle. Either she leaves this house or live in it quietly, he thought.

“What are you up to, Matie,” he asked impatiently, looking uneasy.”

“We can’t continue in this mess. You are lying in this message. When did you become philanthropic? Why would you lie you gave so much to poor whom you raped?"

You want them to believe you. They will certainly not. Those international donors are smart. They are not daft. They are tracking you. They know the IDPs' money were missing….”

He grabbed the paper out of her hands. And scampered out of the room. Within a moment, a four-door limousine was tooting at gates. It glided through, and sped off.

She began to weep. Then her phone rang.

“Are you Matie?”

“Yes…who are you?”

“Mr. Olin…Road Safety…. Please, come quickly…there is an accident. We are taking two occupants to Faith Hospital at Maitama, A4 Avenue.”

She was confused. She began to shake.

“It can’t be my husband!” she screamed, scurrying out, and shouting….

“Driver…Eme…Eme…the car…bring the car!