It happened in church today. You are most likely familiar (especially if you attend a Yoruba dominated church where the talking drum is employed in worship) with that moment when singing halts and the talking-drummer is allowed to rollout and display his drumming skills with everybody digging it down ‘kon kon be lo…’ Such was the dance moment today; the lead singer screamed ‘Kabiyesi O!’ the church chorused ‘Eshe O!’ and as expected, the talking-drum rolled out beautifully.

Now we all know the talking-drums talks; many a times it rolls-out melodies, but often times than not, those melodies are interjected with occasional proverbs and adages. I heard something familiar. At first I thought I was hallucinating, and then I looked across the auditorium and saw two deranged teenagers acting out what I thought the drum said. They were ‘dance-slapping’ themselves.

The lead singer called again, ‘Kabiyesi O!’ we replied, ‘Eshe O!’ the talking-drummer rolled the same tune again. This time, two uncles behind me (probably forced to church by their wives) chorused the tune of the drum. With grotesque voices that need servicing, they said;
‘eni to ba ta fele-fele, eni to ba she rada-rada
eni to ba ta fele-fele, rada-rada, wanran-wanran
eyin boys! Egba oju e! eyin boys! Egba oju e!’
This roughly translates as;
‘anyone that misbehaves, anyone that mis-yans
anyone way show himself, anyone way do anyhow
Boys! Slap him! Boys! Slap him! (Interpretation mine)

Now you get the gist. I looked around and discovered the youthful wing of my conservative church has gone into a frenzy, totally crazy. At a point I thought D’banj had walked in but then I discovered how cool it was to have one of Saturday’s club rendition repeated in church on Sunday. Even my Mama G.O. couldn’t help but ‘Komale’ (obviously, she didn’t know what the drum said). I wanted to dance but, I was beside my Sunday school teacher who was by then fuming in anger. ‘Bro. Emma,’ he said, ‘…did you hear what the brothers behind us are saying? I can’t believe that’s what the drummer is playing. I haf heard that devilish song before, I must see him after the service!’

I wanted to ask him where he heard the song but I said, ‘It is a pity, in the house of God! What are our youths turning into?’ As though planned, the uncles behind us started waving the drummer while dancing something misplaced between shoki and etigi.

The pastor came up to the pulpit and the praise session ended to the displeasure of the youths. ‘Praise the lord!’ the pastor screamed into the microphone, ‘Hallelujah!’ we chorused. ‘The lord is in this place Amen! …the youth of this church hardly ever dance, but today! Today! The spirit of the lord came down! Came down upon the keyboardist – Came down on the drummers! Hallelujah!’ ‘Amen!’ we chorused.

I stole a glance at the youth Sunday school teacher. He was shaking his head. I wanted to laugh, then, I heard him mutter ‘…that is not the spirit, that is D’banj.’ I moved closer to him and whispered, ‘maybe God loves D’banj…’ ‘Shutup!’ he howled at me, ‘you cannot praise God with devils music.’

‘Huh?’ I quickly whimpered away and didn’t get to tell him how this could be a major comeback for D’banj’s dwindling career. ‘Bro. Ayan was particularly exceptional with the talking-drum today,’ the pastor continued. ‘Bro. Ayan! Please step out.’ Bro. Ayan quickly fell out before the altar. Laying a hand on him, the pastor said, ‘May God strengthen you!’ the church chorused ‘Amen!’ ‘Mtcheeeeeew!’ hissed my Sunday school teacher. ‘May you continue to grow in grace, may God continue to sharpen your skills,’ ‘Amen!’ I screamed amidst insuppressible laughter.