₦airaland Forum

© Rahila Yohana Bawa

Episode 7: The Assassination

She eventually spoke, "Are you okay?" I shook my head, not even close to okay. My life was at stake, and every other thing seemed unimportant.
Magdalena tried to comfort me, "You will be fine, Ella." I couldn't understand how I could be fine. I was just doing my job, and an unknown person was seeking to end my life.
She began to quote the Bible, saying, "Look at it this way, you are being persecuted for a good cause, just like the apostles in the Bible. Even the Bible encourages us to rejoice and be glad when we face persecution." I wanted to lash out at her, but I held back. What was the correlation between my attempted assassination and persecution? Plus, if I was genuinely being persecuted, it should be for Christ's sake, not for unveiling the truth.
After a while, Magdalena left, and I dozed off praying. Suddenly, I woke up in the middle of the night after a terrible nightmare. In the dream, I was kidnapped and taken to some secluded place. I could not see my kidnappers or hear their voices.
The power was out, and it was pitch black. I felt a presence, and I began to search frantically for my phone, which seemed to have disappeared. I found the bedside lamp, eventually, switched it on and searched every corner of my house to ensure that no one was there. Realizing that it was probably my fears from the previous day that were haunting me, I resorted to praying. I went to the kitchen to grab some snacks since my stomach grumbled for food.
As I was scrolling through social media, I saw that everyone was talking about me. Some were accusing me of collecting a bribe, leading to the attack. Some were trying to encourage me, but I could see the hatred in their eyes.
I logged out of the group and went to check my Facebook page. I saw a post by Psalmist that caught my attention. I liked the post and continued scrolling.
I was scared and needed someone to talk to. It was too late to call Magdalena, and I didn't want to worry my parents. So I did something unexpected.
I sent a text to the Psalmist message box on Facebook, but I doubted if he would have time to read it. So, I wasn't bothered whether he replied or not. I continued to scroll through my timeline, watching short videos and getting elated.
I logged into my page and tried to reply to messages, but I had not checked my inbox for three months. The workload was enormous, and I was emotionally unstable, so all I had been doing was uploading short points to keep the page on the move.
Suddenly, a message by Linda (surname withheld) caught my attention. She was a 37-year-old single lady, and from her message, I could sense her desperation and frustration about why she was still single. She wrote, "Good day, ma. I don't know if I can get a counseling class with you because I am based in Sokoto. My case requires if I can see you. I am about losing my mind, and I need your help before I do that. I am Linda from Nasarawa State, but I work here in Sokoto. I am 37 years old and still single. The tension keeps getting wider, and I can't help but think I may be cursed. Please, help me."
I don't run a marriage counseling service, and I have never posted that I do. However, the woman needs help, and I also needed help. Unfortunately, I don't know any physical being who can help us both except Jesus. I was on the clock and didn't even know if I could meet up with her. I couldn't leave her that way. I decided to reach out to her, but what if I was late? I soliloquized in my mind. I quickly went back to her message to confirm the date the message was sent. It was for a week. Many people lost their lives within a week. I just prayed she wasn't among them. I sent back a text asking for her contact, but I received no reply. I realized the time of the night and that she wasn't online. I said a prayer for her to God, hoping she didn't go overboard.
I am only 27 years old, and I know the frustration of being single. Some days, the privacy and personal space seem comfortable, while on others, it feels like empty space. Managing this emotional difference and bringing them to balance hasn't been easy. Now, with a name in my head, it had grown worse. My anticipation grew daily, and impatience was gradually creeping in.
I tend to compare the many books on youth, relationships, courtships, and marriage lessons to my situation. Questions like, "What if God isn't done making me the lady worthy of fitting into the shoes of his servant?" "What if on the other end, he (my future spouse) is still with another?" "What if I have met him but don't know it was him?" Then, to my greatest fear, "What if I don't fit into his vision of a wife?" I was beating myself up over what shouldn't bother me. Yet, I couldn't help but feel God shouldn't have revealed him to me. I would have had much peace than now.
I stayed awake all night, jotting down my thoughts and ideas on how to go about looking for my assassin. The thought alone made me laugh at myself. An ordinary Ella taking herself to find her assassin. I couldn't help but relate this to Jesus. He knew he was going to be hunted for the crucifix yet still came to earth. His was for a greater cause, and I am glad He came, but in my case, it would be utmost stupidity. Before I delivered myself for the slaughter, I asked God to permit me to meet my partner. It was the most selfish prayer I had ever prayed because if anything bad happened to me, I would leave him broken. It would have been best if he didn't meet me.
Three months later, my heartbeats were abnormal, my legs were shivering behind the desk, and sweat piled up and ran down my face. I sat facing my assassin with blood-sucking eyes, willing to devour me.

© 2023

© Rahila Yohana Bawa

Episode 8: Unraveling the Mystery
Three months later, my heart was beating abnormally and my legs were shivering under my desk. Sweat was piling up and running across my face as I sat facing my assassin with blood-sucking eyes willing to devour me.

I met with Detective Gerald a couple of months ago. He was a fine young man, who was also single. I contacted him the previous week to arrange for the meeting which was on Monday. By 10:00 a.m, I was waiting in his office reception area, and he was a bit late.
The young dashing man walked in fully suited and casually greeted me and his receptionist before walking into the office. Minutes later, he called his receptionist to let me in.
I was wearing my best official wear, which consisted of a black below the knee pencil skirt and a three-printed colored button-down t-shirt. My hair was packed into a bun, and my face had mild makeup with a nude-colored lipstick on my lips. I had my tag, my black bag, and wore office shoes. I walked into his office, keeping a straight face as possible, trying not to scream how anxious I was. The office was conducive and had a sweet fragrance. He offered me a seat which I took, letting out a warm smile as I greeted him once more.
I observed his countenance, and he looked gentle. Although his face showed an expression of a 30-year-old man, I could not help but notice his eyes. They had a charming expression that read 'I'm way beyond 30's. His hands, which were placed on the notes on his desk, were perfectly manicured, white, and had long fingers. I took my eyes off his hands when I felt his gaze on me and cleared my throat.
"Our Director, i.e., Director Abubakar Maiwa, sent me to meet up with you concerning the case of our office's collapse?"
"Oh yes! You must be Miss Emmanuella then."
"Yes, I am, sir."
"So, what do you know about the incident?"
"Well, the fact that the office collapsed by a trigger, I don't know much."
"There is a speculation that the attempt was on you, do you know that?" he asked. I can't get away from people really thinking I was the target, but why would I be?
"Yes, although I still doubt if the attempt was on me. It's true I was supposed to host the program that day but not just me. What if the attempt was on the other crew members?"
"You have a point there. Since you alone were not hosting the program, there is a slight possibility the target may be on others but, nevertheless, I heard you were surrounded by foes. Who do you think will come after you?"
I smiled, "Sir, in our line of job, we pose a threat to many, especially politicians. So talking about foes, I don't have the capacity to list them because I don't know them."
"Well if you say so."
"Then again, sir," I interrupted, "we had a guest on the show. Why isn't this investigation on everyone? I could be the distraction they seek."
He looked at me intensively, then nodded. "You are right!" he said. "I will send out an investigation on the rest. For now, avoid public places and stay safe."
I nodded. "Thank you, sir," I added. He gave me his contact to keep in touch in case of any updates.
Two more weeks passed, and it seemed like the investigation was going nowhere. I decided to fully immerse myself in it.
I had a strong hunch about our guest for that day. He was well-known, creative, and an influential personality. We called him John Legend; his first name was John, and his surname was Ebube. John was an entrepreneur who owned a rice mill in 15 states across the nation. His rice was rich and far better than the exported rice. He was a good man, and I couldn't think of him having enemies after his life. I searched home and abroad for any known and unknown glitches, but his track records were clear. He had mutual competitors but was wise in his business dealings. I decided to look into Yemisi's story, but there was nothing. I went further to interview all crew members present during the show before the collapse, but I hit rock bottom.
I was devastated, tired, and frustrated. Detective Gerald failed to call, and each time I called, he had flimsy excuses. "They are yet to find the culprit," he said. I reported to my chief, but his faith in me was unwavering. "Emmanuella, I know you can do it. You will soon help us uncover the truth," he told me. I wished I believed him, but I really didn't.
My room was scattered with sheets and paper stickers on my wall. Every point I held ended up hitting rock bottom. Several endings and no connection to the case. I picked up a piece of paper and started writing a letter to my supposed Redeemer. I felt if I had someone who could help, it would ease my stress. A friend to talk to, at least. Magdalena had enough on her plate; she was pregnant and had fallen sick for a couple of months. The doctor encouraged bed rest and less stress. I couldn't add to the stress she was already in.
I wrote, "Dear partner, I feel the load will be less if I had met you and could confide in you. I don't know where to start, but I keep hitting rock bottom on every strand I hold. I couldn't find a correlation between a collapsed building of an organization and an individual hate. None of the victims had anything to do with this case, but I still can't prove it. I don't know if I have an enemy around me who is capable of killing. I wish we had met already; maybe out of you may flow rivers of wisdom and mystery-solving. Yours, future partner."

I know I sounded cliché, but I couldn't help it. I read the letter out loud, and after which I looked up and said, "God, share your wisdom with me. Just enough percentage to solve this case."
I woke up that morning feeling the breakage of loneliness creeping and tearing my soul. A deep desire to want and to behold. I logged online and dropped a few lines on my timeline. "Rise and shine, God is faithful," I wrote, but I found it hard to believe. I needed Him to show Himself faithful, and since I couldn't see it, I tried to believe it, but it was a failed attempt. "His timing is forever perfect," I wrote again, but deep down, the question, "Is it?" was heavy in my heart. This particular timing wasn't perfect for me. I was losing myself and wished I could quit and return home to the safety of my parents.
I took my bath and returned to my previous position, where I sat staring at the several points and ends I made. An idea dropped into my heart. I quickly stood up and rushed out.
The office was fully shut, and a written restriction was pasted. I showed my ID to the man in charge and asked if I could check the building one last time. I had no idea what I was looking for; I just needed a clue, anything.
I went around, avoided the cracks, and risked going into the only standing building, but couldn't find anything. Stones and concrete were laid down, and I couldn't pile off the remains. I lost hope and was taking the last turn out when I sighted it.

© 2023

MY REDEEM-MER
© Rahila Yohana Bawa

Episode 6: The Collapse

I woke up that morning to find six missed calls from Josh. He hadn't called me for over a month since our unofficial breakup. He had practically ignored me, and I thought he had blocked me on social media because I barely saw any updates from him. Dealing with the pain was hard, but I was determined not to get back together with him. I am a lady who knows how to walk away from a place where she is not needed. My sanity and peace are my topmost priority.
Upon seeing the missed calls, questions began to arise in my mind. Should I return the calls or not? Six was a lot, but I barely had time to think. I had an interview to catch up with.
When I arrived at the office, chaos had erupted at the gate. No one had called me for any updates whatsoever. I quickly got off the tricycle and hurried inside, only to be met with a shock. The Nigerian Television Authority had always been the one dishing out the news, but today, we were the news.
Our newsroom collapsed in the early hours while we were running the breakfast news with two of our staff and an outside guest. A rescue team was sent to evacuate the victims from the building. When I arrived, the ambulance had already left with them, while the rest of the crew had sustained minor injuries. One of the rescue team members rushed in and asked us all to evacuate the building. Just then, Magdalena and her husband, who had driven her, parked outside.
It was evident that they also had no news about the sudden collapse. I was deeply shaken as I was supposed to host the morning breakfast show before being called the previous night for a reshuffle. My colleague Yemisi, who was supposed to host the program the next day, had an emergency exit today, and I was asked to switch places. I stood dumbfounded as Magdalena reached out to me and rushed me out of the building. The very moment we all successfully moved out, one side of the building collapsed. There was a trigger, but no one knows where it came from.
While we all stood devastated by the collapse, a message was sent to all staff to convene at the government House. Maxwell drove us there. I couldn't gather myself as I was literally paralyzed. "That could have been me in there." Was all I could utter.
At the government office, we were directed to the conference room where the governor of the state and the director of NTA office Sokoto addressed the staff. After a brief meeting charging us to stay clear of the building for the time being and discharging us home, the director asked to see me. I exhaled.
"Emmanuella, how do you feel?" He asked the moment we were alone.
"Ammm, I'm shocked, sir," I replied, then quickly added, "but I am fine."
"You know they came for you, right?"
"Me?" I wasn't just shocked, I had goosebumps.
"The building didn't collapse due to natural defects. There was a trigger, and it was targeted on the newsroom. Who did you offend?"
The question put me off balance, "offend? I offend no one, sir," I replied.
"Then you will investigate who did that."
"Sir?" I called out, more of a question, "I am not an investigator nor a police. How can I?"
"I have heard them sing your praises on how you go about sourcing out content. Unearth the truth for me."
I was about defending when he added, "I hope to hear from you soon," and he walked away.
I couldn't believe this. If I were truly the target, shouldn't I have a bodyguard or something to keep watch over me instead of sending me to my death? I sighed.
I returned home still unable to believe what had happened. Yemisi and the other two were still unconscious, and that could be me lying down there, but I couldn't help but feel it could have been much better than the task at hand.
"Cast your cares on God, for He cares for us." Was the verse that lay heavily in my heart. I was terrified and for the first time did not feel the power of God that makes me believe I can do all things through Christ the Lord. I sat on the couch with teary eyes. "God," I called. "Who could be after me, and for what reason?" The heavens were shut on me, but I needed to intensify my prayers. Now wasn't a time to cower in fear. I prayed for what seemed like forever, but there was nothing.

I was still there when I heard footsteps and, like a whispered calling my name, I was all attentive as I eagerly awaited hearing God give me a name or a clue. Instead, I felt a tap on my shoulders. I still refused to budge, thinking I was already in the second realm, until the second tap, which felt harder, like I was being slapped, that I let my eyes open to find Magdalena standing at my heel.
I looked at her face closely, trying to see if she would give me a clue if at all what I experienced a moment ago was a dream or reality. Finding myself lying on the floor, shocked in sweat from praying for only God knows how many hours, I concluded it could only be a dream. I was silently praying that it was all a dream. But Magdalena didn't say a word; she just stood transfixed, looking at me. How did she even get into the house? I was starting to question if I could even separate my dream from my reality because at this point, I had no idea what was real and what was not.

© 2023

© Rahila Yohana Bawa

Episode 5: The Three-Way Relationship in Prayer

The author wrote, "Perhaps you have noticed the three-way relationship that comes into focus when you start praying for your future husband. As you pray for him to be a lover of God, you quickly realize that your own relationship with the Lord has room to grow. When you ask God to instill patience in your future mate, you soon realize that God is using the challenges in your life to develop patience in you. You pray for your future husband to have understanding, and as a result, your sense of compassion grows. Do you see the triangular relationship that is formed through prayer? You, your future husband, and God are at the three points of the triangle. God occupies the top of the triangle, while you and your future husband are at the bottom corners. The closer each of you becomes to God, the shorter the distance between the two of you. By praying for the man you will marry one day, you are drawing closer to the Lord. You, God, and your future husband are already being woven together at a heart level through the invisible realm of prayer. It's amazing, isn't it? The three of you are entwined in an eternal relationship, even if you have not yet met your future husband."
I recently purchased the book "Praying for Your Future Husband," which was written by Robin Jones Gunn and Tricia Goyer, from a Christian store across the street after a church service. I didn't wait to finish the chapters when I realized I could speed up the timing if I could pray for my husband to be ready. By my husband, I mean Psalmist. I didn't even know his full name; I just knew he was God's will for me. That night, I spent it on my knees speaking prophetically into Psalmist's life.
I prayed, "Father God, I pray that if my future husband doesn’t already know You, You will bring him into Your forever kingdom. I pray that my future husband will seek You and find You. I pray that he will seek You with all his heart. I pray that Your Holy Spirit will draw him to You and that his heart will be softened and ready to surrender to You. So many things in this world draw us away from You. I pray that my future husband will not be distracted from the truth. May he discover that You are the Lover of his soul and that his most important relationship is the one he has with You. I pray that no matter what his friends are doing, he will turn to You and that You will be the most important person in his life. I ask this in Jesus’ name, Amen."
I knew what I wanted, but I wasn't sure if I had the patience to wait for it. A lot of ifs kept creeping into my thoughts; "what if he is distracted with someone else? What if I am never close to anything he prayed for? What if I don't fit into the shoes of being his wife? What if?"
The Bible asks us to cast our cares upon the Lord for He cares for us. I did, but the tension was still there instead of getting less.
The next morning, I woke up from a dream which I couldn't remember the account of the dream; I just remembered I saw Psalmist's face. I knew dreams could be God's way of revealing His will for us, but the devil also has access to our dreams and may cook up our imaginations and thoughts to make them seem as though they were God's will for us. I wasn't going to take any chances, so I dismissed the thoughts.

I went on my knees for my devotions when I saw the piece of paper on which I wrote a prayer point the previous night. I unfolded the paper, read through it, and was about to ignore it when I felt a persistent zeal to table it to God. I was tired of trying, but Love is patient, and by patience, it means waiting. I wasn't in love, but I defended myself against my mind which raised the thought about love being patient.
Reluctantly, I picked up the piece of paper again, unfolded it, and focused on communicating with God. "Good morning, Lord," I whispered. "I never wanted to bother you on this, but..." I was quiet for a while, thinking of the best approach to talk to my Father without looking desperate. I smiled because I knew He knows. He is not a man I could hide my thoughts or emotions from, so I read it out: "Dear Lord Jesus, it’s so amazing that You can see my future husband now. You know him. You love him. Lord, since You know the man You have designed for me, I pray that any other relationship will be unappealing to him. I pray that if he is giving away a part of his heart, his emotions, or his body, You will show him Your better way. Most of all, I pray he’ll be a God Lover. Not only do I ask that You distract and keep him from other harmful relationships, but also that You draw him closer to You. May his heart be so full of You that he doesn't need anything or anyone else until the time You appoint to bring me into his life. And for every day of his life, hold him in the palm of Your hand. Amen." I sighed as though I had let a heavy burden off my chest. I smiled, packed up, and left for work.
Dropping off from the tricycle, I saw Magdalena and her husband exchanging goodbyes in a more romantic way. I cleared my throat as I greeted them before stepping into the office. I cleared my desk and whispered a 'thank you, Lord, for journey mercies' and settled for work. Magdalena walked in beaming with joy, blushing pink. I smiled back as she took her seat beside mine.
"Good morning," she greeted.
"Hmm! Iyawo, good morning ma. Do I still have the right to ask about your night because the answer is quite obvious?" I joked.
"My dear, please ask. My husband is too romantic, jor. I had no idea he was this nice. God is really faithful. I do wonder if I ever deserve him."
"Of course, you do. You are a great lady. Every good man deserves someone as special as you." I told her. Magdalena is a nice lady, and I mean each word I told her.
"Thank you so much, my woman of God. You taught me well." I smiled. I was about to say, 'thank God' when she cut in: "Do you know what he did last night? He prepared a candlelight walkway to our room, littered the way with petals while he waited on me with a warm bowl of water and a bottle of wine. My dear, I sipped wine while he washed my feet. I couldn't believe he did that. Do you know..."
Yes, I know Magdalena is a great lady, but her mouth has always been extraordinary. I wished she could abstain from sharing her bedroom encounters with me.

"Iyawo..." I called, cutting her off midway, while trying to be as polite as possible, "Don't you think this matter should be sacred?"
"Which matter?" She seemed confused.
"The bedroom part. I know I'm like your best friend, but I know your husband will appreciate it if this remains between you both."
"Oh, you don't want to hear my gist, abi? Don't ask me for this gist later o."
I smiled, and I was sure I wasn't interested in such a story, so I nodded. As much as I tried to be happy for my friend, I couldn't help but think, "Husband, where are you?"

© Rahila Yohana Bawa
INSPIRED BY GOD

Episode 4: The Guest Preacher

The preacher had been delivering his sermon for some time before belting out the words, "Praise God, church!" The congregation echoed his exclamation with a resounding "Hallelujah."
As an invited guest minister, Reverend Timothy Bassey had been away attending a course in Ilorin. The senior deacon, who had been in charge of the church for months, fell ill and had to call upon this young preacher to take his place on the altar.
I found his speech to be too fast, and I could barely discern what he was preaching about. He mentioned a Bible text from the book of Ruth and started to narrate what seemed to be a descriptive story about Ruth. I caught myself yawning, something that rarely happened to me in church. I struggled to keep my eyes open, fearing I would embarrass myself in front of the congregation.
Suddenly, the preacher made another statement, and the congregation shouted, "Amen!"
Dorcas, a sister from the church who was seated beside me, tapped me on the shoulder and said, "Ella, won't you say 'Amen'? Are you not single anymore?" I didn't reply.
Then the preacher said, "I speak to all our single ladies. May God deliver your Redeemers to you." Once again, the congregation echoed with a resounding "Amen," but my own response was barely audible.
The preacher continued, "Just as Ruth needed a man and God sent Boaz, her kinsman Redeemer, I pray that God will connect you to your own Boaz today, in Jesus' name." The congregation replied with another "Amen."
It was at this point that I realized I had zoned out for most of the sermon and that was when I realised what the message was about, but why must Dorcas insist that I say 'Amen'? What was her deal with me? I found myself getting worked up. I know what I wanted, but did she know that I wasn't looking for some man to redeem me? Christ has already redeemed me, so what's with her? I returned from church that afternoon to meet Magdalena back from her honeymoon. Her husband lives a couple blocks away from my apartment. We exchanged greetings on the way before reaching my apartment. I took a shower, ate, and returned to bed while focusing on my social media. I was going through my feed when I saw a sponsored post by Psalmist on my timeline. He was hosting a program in Lagos in a week's time. I liked the post, followed his page, and scrolled through his posts without reacting or commenting. While doing so, I heard a knock on my door. I wasn't expecting anyone and felt reluctant to get up until my phone started buzzing with Magdalena's name on it. "She must be outside," I soliloquized. I had to drop my laziness on the bed, grab a shirt and put it on top of the trousers I was wearing. I walked up to the door and saw the happy bride with a little package in her hand. I smiled as she handed me the package containing the cake.
"Iyawo, well done. You brought me leftover cake," I said jokingly, letting her in.
"Thank God, you still have cake. I didn't get to have any of my wedding cake. I had to order another one for my friends," she said while trying to sit on my two-seater couch. "I don't understand. Where did your cake go?" I asked, baffled. "I couldn't imagine a wedding cake disappearing without the couple," I added.
Magdalena laughed and said, "See this one. Did you expect us to disappear alongside the cake? Haba! What wrong have we done to deserve that?" Unable to hold back my laughter, I asked, "Okay, what happened to the cake?" In a more serious tone.
"My family members took half and my husband's family carried the remaining half."
"Hah! So the couple don't have portions be that?" I smiled again.
"They said the cake would be spoiled before we returned," she explained, "so they decided to share it between themselves instead of letting it go to waste."
I couldn't help but laugh at the situation, and Magdalena joined in as well. "Can you imagine?" she asked rhetorically. "But why didn't you take any with you? Was the love too sweet that you didn't want to eat?" I joked.
"Nah," she replied, still smiling. "What can I offer you then? I don't want you to announce to the universe tomorrow that Ella refused to serve the new bride."
"Thank God you know it's just my small job," she replied.
Magdalena then proceeded to share with me the details of her honeymoon - the places they visited, the romantic surprises, the meals in bed, and all the activities they did. As interesting as her story was, I wished she had never shared it with me, because it was the beginning of my struggles.


Want to hear the whole story? Tune in to the audio version now on Pocket FM: https://pocketfm.onelink.me/2IE7/58h8shqr

© Rahila Yohana Bawa
INSPIRED BY GOD

Episode 3: The Meeting

The morning breeze visited Sokoto city, providing a healthy start to the day for its inhabitants. The weather was mild, and even though I found it difficult to leave my bed, I knew I had to get up. It was 7 am on a Monday morning, and I had scheduled an appointment with a young politician who had given the youth a voice in Sokoto State. Our meeting was set for 9 am, and despite feeling sleepy, I forced my legs to carry me to the bathroom.
I dragged myself to the bathroom, took a quick warm water bath, and returned to my bedside for my morning devotions. I had learned to study my body and found that the best way to wake up after a long evening was to start with a bath. As I opened my devotional manual, I noticed that the author had titled the page "What You Desire."
The author continued the story, "The young man wanted nothing more than to serve in God's vineyard. He was eager for God to empower him with the ability for healing and deliverance. He had grown up watching his mother suffer at the hands of various illnesses, unable to do anything about it. He lost his mother to the cold hands of death, and shortly afterwards, his father passed away too. He desperately desired the ability to heal so that he would not lose any more loved ones." The author illustrated that his desires were genuine but his motive was wrong. Deep within him he thought, if God couldn't do His responsibility rights, He (God) should grant him the ability and he will shock God.The intent of His heart was what God was mindful of and having seen what the young man thoughts were, God was disappointed. The author went further to charge his audience to be mindful of their motives when they come to God with a petition for God's sees and judge a persons heart first before listening to his request.
I was grateful for the morning charge as I whispered a word of prayer to God. I prayed, "I thank you for this blessed morning. Make it fruitful and make me victorious." I was about to say amen when I had a second thought, "My motives, make them align to your will. Amen." I concluded.
My home was quite far from my work place. I left without having breakfast as I was almost late with the clock reading at 8:30a.m.
As I stepped through the glass doors of the information communication organization, my heels clicking on the polished marble floor. The building hummed with the sound of activity as the employees bustled about their workday. It was Monday morning, and I had just returned from a weekend away - a big break from the demands of my job. As I made my way to my desk, I felt a sense of renewed energy and purpose. I was ready to tackle the challenges of the week ahead and make a difference in the world of information communication. The familiar sights and sounds of the organization filled me with a sense of belonging and pride. This was my world and I was eager to make my mark in it.
Magdalena hadn't returned from her honeymoon, leaving me alone in the office. The air conditioner worked perfectly and eased my stressed skin, which had suffered from the harsh weather before getting to the office. The previous day had offered favorable weather, but the next day brought an opposite experience. This is what puts Sokoto State on the map - an intense savanna that cuts through humans. The weather forecast was reading 47°C, which can cook and boil rice. I went through my notes before setting out with the crew to the young politician's office.
The political office was grandiose, with towering bookshelves and ornate furnishings. The large oak desk dominated the room, and its surface was covered with neatly stacked papers and a few scattered pens. The walls were adorned with portraits of past leaders, gazing down upon the current occupant with a sense of weighty expectation. The room was bathed in the warm glow of a chandelier overhead, casting a soft light that imbued the space with gravitas. A large window overlooked the bustling city below, offering a sweeping view of the streets and their people. The crew consisting of the man behind the camera, an assistant, and myself followed the secretary to Mr. Yusuf Barnabas' office. He was a young man in his late 30s who welcomed us with a warm smile and ushered us to our seats as I composed myself, ready to ask my questions.
"Good morning once more, sir." I began.
"Good morning," he replied with his best smile. Since we weren't live on camera, I skipped the introduction and proceeded directly to the questions, having barely five minutes to run the interview.
"Thank you once more for this opportunity, sir."
"My pleasure." He said.
"By being the youngest politician in the state what advice will you give the youth who aspire to follow your steps?"
He smiled, "dream."
I was baffled, dream? A one word answer? I was still thinking if to press on or go to the next questions when I heard him say, "Dream. Dare to dream. If you believe in your dreams, you will believe in the possibility of achieving them. You need to conceive a dream bigger than yourself, one that has the capacity to birth into reality. Many youths fail to dream, while others barely pay attention to their dreams. To be successful, you have to dream big and believe in yourself. If you can dream it, you can achieve it."
"That's an eye-opener, sir. Thank you so much for sharing that. How can the youths benefit from this new government, sir?"
"The previous administration did quite a great job of assisting the youths of this state, and we plan to add to their programs. I urge all youths to be present when called upon. The previous administration provided job schemes for unemployed graduates for over four years. However, most youths did not jump at the opportunity, instead, they complained about the pay and barely reported to their place of assignment. Some even frustrated the efforts of the government. We plan to make some changes to the scheme this year. The modifications will be reflected on the portal."
"Thanks for that, sir. It's reassuring to know that the scheme will be operational in this government. Lastly, what closing message do you have for our listeners, sir?"
"Believe in what God tells you about yourself, rather than what others have to say. He made things beautiful in His time."
"Thank you so much for your time, sir. God bless you." I said as I closed my notebook.
"You're welcome. It's always a pleasure." He gave me his card to keep in touch. I left the office feeling as though I'd had an encounter with an angel. "If I can dream it, I can be it. I dream it, I believe God, He actualizes it. God made things beautiful in His time." These words were on repeat in my mind, and I knew that God was talking to me about Psalmist.

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MY REDEEM-MER
© Rahila Yohana Bawa
INSPIRED BY GOD


Episode 2: "Is He Really My Soulmate?"

"I soliloquized, questioning whether he was truly my soulmate. I couldn't bring myself to defend him against my own thoughts. As the call ended, I noticed a photo of a woman on his wallpaper, and it was clear to me that she was the same person listed as 'Soulmate' in his contacts. Just a few weeks prior, he had proudly shown me a photo of myself on his wallpaper without me even asking. I wasn't the type to snoop through my man's phone, but something didn't feel right. Just as I was lost in thought, Josh walked up to me and pecked me on the cheek. I handed him his phone, which he had left with me, albeit reluctantly. "Your soulmate called," I said, trying to remain calm. Josh took the phone from me and studied my expression. "Remember I told you about Dami?" he asked, still searching my face for a reaction. I sat speechless, unable to comprehend what he was getting at, waiting for an explanation.
"Dami is a family friend whom I told you about earlier. My parents think we would look good together as a couple," Josh explained, but I remained silent. He then unlocked his phone, scrolled to his gallery, and opened a folder with the same lady's photo that I had seen on his wallpaper. "Isn't she beautiful?" he asked, smiling. Regaining my composure, I replied, "Yes, she is. You both would make a perfect couple." Josh continued, "You know, my elder brother married someone from your place, and our parents wanted me to marry someone from our place, but I still want you, you know," Josh confessed. I couldn't believe this was the same man whom I had envisioned marrying and even bragged about to my friends and family. Despite my dad's dislike of him, I had convinced my parents to give their blessings for the relationship, hoping to marry him someday. And now, he was seeking my opinion about a girl his parents, with his approval, wanted him to marry. Keeping my cool, I faked a smile and said, "I understand, but I have to go. Night policy, remember?" I told Josh. "Yes! Thank you for understanding," he replied. "I will see you tomorrow, right?"

"What effrontery?" my mind screamed, but I managed to smile and nod. Josh accompanied me to the gate, stopped, and said, "I need to return her call." I nodded and watched him walk back into the house, banging the gate behind him. I took a deep breath, exhaled, and tried hard to hold back my tears. I stopped a motorbike and rode to my apartment. My heart was set ablaze, and all I could think of was how foolish I had acted. Josh had shattered my dreams, and at 27 years old, I had no idea where to start.
Lying on my bed, clutching my now-soaked pillow, I called out to God, "Why did it take You this long? Why didn't You ask me to end this relationship the moment it started? Why after two years? I thought You had given me all the answers I needed, and they were all pointing at Josh. What have I done wrong? Where did I missed it?" My questions were unending. I remembered the beautiful memories I had created - how I flaunted my relationship on social media and how many were blessed by it. I also thought about how much financial and emotional investment I had put into the relationship. I was 90% sure he was God's will for me, only to find out that he was not, or maybe he refused to be. As I cried and prayed, I heard a still voice saying, "Ella, Josh can't handle what you carry. I will send you someone who can handle what you carry." The voice was quite audible to my hearing and could have been mistaken for my thoughts, but I asked again, "God, who?" And the voice came again, "Psalmist." It sounded hilarious to me because everyone knows Psalmist as the man God chose to use in our generation. He is an international celebrity and a popular one at that, having written countless gospel albums and singles that have blessed lives both at home and abroad. He doesn't even reside in my region. He is Nigerian and a Lagos resident, belonging to the Igala tribe. Everyone knows Psalmist, but why would God say He will send Psalmist to me? I was confused and laughed it off, thinking that my mind was playing tricks on me. I replied, "How will that even happen?" And the voice replied, "I will give him your contact." I was ecstatic. If God could give my contact to my future husband, then I was sure that I am one of God's precious ones. Even though I didn't hear the voice again, I felt a sense of peace and assurance.
A week later, I picked up every piece of my emotionally scattered heart and mended it into something beautiful. The words I heard that very night served as my healing balm. Even though I felt uncertain if God really spoke to me that night, I couldn't forget the fact that six months prior, there was a strange encounter. I had visited my friend who was serving in Minna during an interview I was sent there for, and there was a tingly feeling that never departed from my heart. On that fateful day, my friend asked if I could attend a program held yearly at House on the Rock in Minna called SHOUT. Anna, my friend, was serving as an usher in the church and was leaving a bit early. She suggested that I come with her, but I was reluctant as I had scheduled an interview with a client for 2 PM, and the program was at 7 PM. Anna decided to forward the flyer to my WhatsApp number in case I changed my mind. My interview finished at 3:00pm, and I returned to my friend's apartment. Exhausted and hungry, I warmed up the food Anna left before leaving. After eating, I retired to bed. I was about to fall asleep when I felt a strong urge to check my WhatsApp. The first message that appeared was Anna's flyer photo. I reluctantly checked the details of the flyer, but the photos of the guest ministers caught my attention. The Psalmist was there, along with Moses Bliss, David Dam, Scriptures and Mystery, and a few others whom I wasn't familiar with. The guest preacher was Apostle Joshua Selman Nimmak, and I was already a top fan of his messages. Seeing that he would be ministering was a propelling force for me. As I was going through the list of ministers, I heard a voice saying, "There will be a prophecy about your husband." I couldn't fathom what my thoughts were insinuating. I was already in a relationship, so unless the apostle was prophesying about my boyfriend Josh, my thoughts didn't wander far. I got out of bed, got dressed, and left for the venue.
By 4pm, the hall was packed full of people. It was an all-night program, and the turnout was massive. I had never attended such a program before, and this was my first time. I never knew that Christians could have such a massive turnout for a praise program that wasn't tagged as healing and deliverance. The environment was spirit-filled, and you could easily connect with God in such an atmosphere. During the Psalmist's ministration, I realized that it was my first time encountering him. Every artist came with a different atmosphere, but I found myself reckoning with the Psalmist's atmosphere more. I was so immersed in the atmosphere that I couldn't control my tongue. It was an experience worth recording in my diary.
However, the prophecy that stood out to me was the one I received. I had no idea where it was coming from, but the Apostle prophesied over one of the ministers present, not my boyfriend Josh. My thoughts kept asking, "Could this minister really be God's will for me in marriage? Or does it all mean something else?"

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MY REDEEM-MER
© Rahila Yohana Bawa
INSPIRED BY GOD

Episode 1: A Wedding to Remember

The grand estate's lush gardens were bathed in warm sunlight, casting a golden hue over the gathering crowd. The sweet fragrance of blooming flowers filled the air, accompanied by the soothing melody of a string quartet in the distance. It was a day of celebration, the union of two hearts in matrimony.
As the guests took their seats, the excitement mounted. The groom stood at the altar, his gaze fixed on the entrance, eagerly awaiting his beloved's arrival.
The bridesmaids, dressed in flowing gowns of pale pink, made their way down the aisle, their smiles beaming and their steps graceful. They stood in a line at the altar as the bride walked in, her arm locked with her father's.
As they reached the altar, the priest welcomed the bride with a warm smile, but it quickly turned to a look of concern. "Where is the groom?" he asked. The bride looked in the direction where she saw her groom waiting, but he was nowhere to be found.
Confused and anxious, the bride searched the crowd for any sign of her beloved. Had he changed his mind? He was standing here just a minute ago. Did she see wrong? Her mind raced with questions as the guests murmured amongst themselves, unsure of what was happening.
I woke up drenched in sweat, my heart racing as the same dream played out in my sleep for the third time. It was strange because I had no plans for a wedding, nor was I ever engaged. I pushed the dream aside, thinking it had no relevance to my reality.
The week was still old since it was only Saturday. I am known as the "young vibrant God chaser" on my social media handles. I am a single 27-year-old woman, a media evangelist with a BA in Mass Communication from the University of Abuja. I love God and try to emulate Him in everything I do. I am also a motivational speaker, and I run a ministry called "God's Chaser" with a vision to draw people closer to God. As a mandate, I have hosted live programs online and have been a blessing to many. Although my influence hasn't extended beyond my territory, I am still a force to be reckoned with.

Ella, short for Emmanuella, is a beauty to behold, living in Sokoto State, specifically in the North. She got a job at NTA Sokoto immediately after her service year. Having worked with them during her service year, she is an indigene of Kebbi State, from Zuru local government. She is a lover of God, passionate, and God-fearing. If you needed someone to unearth a person's secrets, Ella was the right key. She had a rare height of wisdom stuck in her small head, which has proven to have several compartments.

I swept over my bedspread as I jumped out of bed, ready to conquer the world, as I often used as my slogan. I said my prayers, and on this particular day, I needed something from God, and hopefully, this day was going to give me answers.
With a smile on my face, I concluded my prayers, headed to the bathroom, and was ready in a few minutes. I couldn't think of anything less than perfect on this Saturday morning. It was my day off from work, but I needed to attend this wedding.
Josh was shining and beaming with joy when I walked in. It was his cousin's wedding, and he was getting married to my colleague at work. I was wearing a sea-green lace asoebi with a peach-colored scarf that matched my shoes and purse.
I hugged him as I took my seat beside him. The wedding solemnization ended with bliss as the couple left for the reception grounds. I walked up to the bride, who was exchanging pleasantries before stepping into the reception hall. The bride looked stunning in her white dress, beautifully decorated with stones that reflected enough to blind a person's eyes. With a smile, I hugged Magdalena, the bride, and whispered, "Congratulations iyawo mee."
"You are next in line," she said with a grin. I smiled as I was ever ready to say yes to Josh. I excused myself and looked around, trying to find Josh. My eyes caught him flirting with a lady I didn't know. I still wasn't sure if this was the kind of lifestyle I envisioned for my husband, but he was the only one available for now, and I felt I wasn't getting any younger to start handpicking a man all over again.
The wedding reception was a blissful event to witness. The many happy faces, the dancing, the fun, and I won't forget the food. "Yoruba people know how to throw a party," I thought to myself. All through the reception, Josh wasn't anywhere in sight. I forced myself to enjoy the moment and bothered less about his whereabouts. Hours later, when the reception program was on item 9, he walked up to me and asked to talk to me outside. He didn't look disturbed, so I couldn't figure out if there was an urgency in his tone.
"Are you okay?" I asked the moment we were out of the dense music environment.
"Yes, I am. Can we go over to my place?"
I couldn't pinpoint why he would ask me such a question, considering it was late and my strict policy of no late visits. "Josh, are you okay?" I asked a second time.
"Well, yes, but there is something that has been disturbing me, and I would like to discuss it with you."
"This could be it," I thought. "The moment I've been waiting for. He wants to propose." My mind had already concluded what the discussion was, and I was ready to break my policy just this once.

"Okay," I said, and Josh was ecstatic as he drove me to his apartment. He opened the door for me like a gentleman and led me to the living room. I was expecting a surprise banner on the wall or flowers littered on the walkway or anything romantic, but there was nothing.
"Maybe he wanted to propose in a gentlemanly way," I defended as soon as my mind started raising questions.
I sat, crossing my legs while waiting for him to return from the restroom after he excused himself immediately he walked in, leaving his phone on the center table. The phone, which was on vibration, began to vibrate as a call entered. I wasn't the type to have trust issues, despite Josh's constant flirting. I concluded that it was just his jovial personality as a sanguine, and that he could go all out to please people he cared about. But when the caller called for the second time, I picked up the phone from the table as I was about to call out to Josh to come receive his call. However, the caller's identity caught my attention: "SOUL MATE."