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HomeNewsSmokingWeed & SippingHennessy: 'Kulikuli' in my pocket tasted like poison.

SmokingWeed & SippingHennessy: ‘Kulikuli’ in my pocket tasted like poison.

Every Thanksgiving service at 2nd ECWA way back was always beautiful- especially if you belonged to a group. ECWA have them in abundance.

Dad will always sort everybody out, each with his offering starched in an envelope. I’d have mine and then wonder why ‘pops’ won’t hand it to me to put in an envelope by myself.

At least I see my friends with theirs and na dem dey put am inside envelope themselves.

I hatched a plan; “I must see wetin pops dey put inside envelope for me today”.

So I got to church, sneaked out to the toilet. Carefully opened the envelope and saw #200.

“Ah, see money!” I dey talk early ’90s. They were in #20 notes. So I pulled 3 #20 notes and pushed it into my pocket. I sealed the envelope back carefully and went back into the service.

Thanksgiving proper started and I, like everyone else walked to the front to drop my envelope, looking towards pops who was head usher. He looked away, smiling.

The service went on for another 3 hours.

Back at home, I had eaten lunch, big bowl of Eba and beans soup. I was waiting for 4 O clock to nack make my uncles land as usual to watch wrestling.

Wrestling in those days was real, at least to us. Milmascaras (I no know the spelling), Mighty Igor and co reigned then.

My uncles had arrived and pops too strolled in.

“E gbe television jade”, bring out the television he bellowed to my uncle (his younger brother). A table was brought out, the Tvee was connected and we all waited for 4 O clock.

“Gbenga, did you drop your thanksgiving offering in church today?” Pops asking me and looking at me straight in the eye.

My heart raced. I answered shaken, “yes sir!”

“Are you sure?” He asked again. This time with a ‘don’t dare lie to me kind of look”.

My mind calculated. I had bought ‘Anjingili’ candy, sucked ‘Coldstone Icecream’, the 5 kobo type tied in transparent nylon and had so much left in my pocket.

“So you removed from the money I gave you as offering abi?”

My uncles looked towards me with this ‘you are screwed look’ on their faces.

I started to stammer.

“Wetin you use the money buy?”

I couldn’t reply. All that went through my head; how did this man know? He must have marked the envelope. Maybe he counted the money himself or asked one of the ushers to pull my envelope aside for scrutiny, chai, this man!

He didn’t beat me but what he said that day live with me till date; “you don’t work or earn money, you were given money to appreciate God and you get robbed Him? Why reduce your blessings yourself? If God wanted to bless you in 200 folds, you’ve cut it short. Why? That’s stealing. Son, you just robbed God and you should seek forgiveness”.

I couldn’t watch wrestling that day, the ‘kulikuli’ in my pocket tasted like poison.

I took the remaining #40 to church during the evening service to drop in the offering basket.

Many of us are like me as a boy growing up, we question a d ration why God should get so much from what He has given us.

Do you think what you have you earn because of your skills and not because God has blessed you?

Do you go about thinking, ‘na my efforts make me rich man?’

God is indeed faithful. If He was to punish us according to our sins, do you think any of us will still be standing?

As we enter the last month, give back to God without restrictions. He provided everything you have and everything you are; return all to Him and see Him bless you more.

SW&SH is a weekly series on here and on ‘Jokes Apart With SMG’, join me.

I’m done, I’m gone, I’m ghost.

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