Royver:
At exactly 9.38pm on the first Monday in August the strange, majestic voice was first heard over the air. Just why that day and hour were chosen nobody can say. As was expected, the immediate reaction was disbelief. People simply could not believe their own ears.

Chinedu Ofili of Onitsha, Anambra State, was sitting in his parlour playing with his son Mathew’s playstation and listening to the latest music release from Cool Fm on the radio. Suddenly the music faded out and the voice, deep, gentle, benevolent but firm, said:

This is God. I’m sorry I must interrupt you. A plan of Creation ought by rights to go forward under its own rules, but you, dear children of the Sun’s third planet, are so near to destroying yourselves that I must step in. I shall spend this week with you.


Chinedu stood for a moment, his mouth hanging open in shock.


“This yeye boy wants to do me April fool in August!” He thought,


He marched angrily to his son’s room. Matthew was sitting at his table, agonizing over algebra assignments.


“What did you do to the radio?” demanded his father.


“Me? Nothing o! Is it spoilt?”


Chinedu was deeply puzzled. He went out to see his neighbor Mr. Eze and knocked on the door. Mr Eze opened.


“Sorry bros,” Chinedu said, “Were you listening to Cool FM just now?”


“No,” Mr Eze replied. “I was watching DBS.”


“Then you wouldn’t have heard it then.” Chinedu muttered and turned to leave.

“Wait o, did you hear the voice too?” asked Mr Eze in astonishment. “My screen went blank and a voice just started talking about staying with us for a week! Ha, the thing fear me oh, my brother!”

Onitsha was not the only town that felt wonderment. By morning the news reports from all over Nigeria, then Africa, Europe, Asia, South America and Australia were in, and it was public knowledge that the broadcast had been worldwide and multilingual. Yorubas heard it in Yoruba, Japan in Japanese and South African tribesmen in Shi Ronga dialect. It had been heard in every radio, television, personal computer, laptop and phone.


“What do you think of it?” One man would ask another. Never were the humble words “I don’t know” spoken more often than that first Tuesday in August. A Guardian newspaper editorial writer risked a guess: probably a practical joker in the cable headquarters had hooked all the trans-continental circuits and satellites together for a few seconds.


The Sun went down. By eight the ammeters in the power stations were registering increased loads as listeners switched on. Television screens became mini-oracles for families to gather round and people who didn’t have power or generators willingly paid huge sums to have their phones fully charged and functional. Nor were they disappointed. Exactly at 9.38pm, the serene, friendly voice spoke again:

to be continued...