I have said it times without number, the Churches and Mosques today are not Houses of God. In fact, God has no house. He lives here and there- even in us. There are many measures to adopt to bring an end to both our national and international woes, but going to the 'house of God' is a way that does not convince me anymore.

When I go to Church, I go there to listen to the pastor's interpretation of what is in the Bible. Okay, brilliant pastors and priests leave me reflecting. But I don't go there to 'meet' God- God is with me. In my room, at my work, by my side during those evening walks. Church is not a place for me to cast my burdens at his feet- even at my bath if I sense a burden, I whisper a prayer. Lo ba tan. In fact, you can be right to attend a church today to learn how to dress to different parties.

But the current crop of pastors and Imams are not loyal. They are not thieves, but they are the recipient of stolen properties from thieves. And under the law, both are criminals. Our pastors and Imams are fraudulent- you make a prayer point that God should rid our nation of corruption. 'E gba adura', they will shout! Then the poor pepper seller, the indigent garri maker, the unsuspecting taxi driver and the naive students with patched uniforms pray till their voices are seized! Then he shouts 'Ni oruko Jesu, Oluwa wa!' Straining their ready weak vocal cords, people respond 'Amin.' He flips his Bible open and he starts to talk about how the lack of fear of God on the path of our leaders is responsible for our woes.

But just this Sunday, in the same Church, I saw plastic chairs assembled, and in the front, a few cushion chairs with inscriptions on papers attached to them: VIP. So, make I satisfy the curiosity, I beckon at a Sister and she comes- she thinks that I reconsidered my stance that the Church is not the place for me to work for God. You can work for him at your place of work, on the road, in your neighbourhood. For me, I'll work for God in the Court. I'll be a pastor by building a home where my kids don't become the current types of pastors and politicians. Working for God to me lies in working hand in hand with Bae to add values to the lives of inmates. It is in informing the masses about their rights under the law on our TV program.

So, Sister Regina shows. 'Please, what is happening today?' She smiles and replies 'Harvest.' 'Ehn, in January? What did the church plant? Don't you see that it has not been raining?' She smiles and runs towards the back to attend to an old man calling. Well, any day can be for harvest, to harvest from our pockets the little we could garner during the week or month. It doesn't have to rain.

The service came to an end and the reception and fund raising is about to start, but I can't wait- like I believe any lecture or sermon that goes beyond 2 hours go don get lie inside' I have Fela's music assembled for the rest of the day, maybe a movie or two and then preparation for tomorrow... Just then, he appears with his entourage- the deputy Governor of Kalahari state. Immediately, my pastor lost his composure. He was sweating like an amateur defender whose role is to stop Messi and Ronaldo at once during a classic final. He leads them to the VIP seats and grabs the microphone: without the kind of leadership of our Governor, this state wouldn't have known such progress... That statement made me mad, and I hissed audibly. I pick my Bible and heads for the door... Next time, I promise to occupy that VIP seat myself, and not even the Pastor's plea will make me vacate. We are the VIPs-the congregation who sweat something out for the church, not these thieves. But then, my days are numbered in this State.

'Brother David' Joel called as I stepped out of the Church, I turned back and saw him pointing a white envelope with the countenance that I take it. 'Your donation for the harvest.' I grinned and replied: I am not your brother.

laugh laugh laugh.... Lol you killed it man...you killed it.