“Mama, I’ve checked my JAMB result but it was withheld”.

“Only God knows what could have happened,” I sullenly sulked.

Casting a menacing glance to mama Ifeanyi’s side of the compound-  my dad’s second wife. She said she knew the enemies’ hands were in this: referring to the otumokpo she saw under the bed.

She adjusted her wrapper as if in readiness for a fight, while singing in Igbo ‘that he who laughs last laughs best’. She told me not to worry that everything would be fine when we met with prophet Onwuka at the Ogbede Mountain for the annual Spiritual Battle program.

When we got to the mountain, mama made me fast and I berated myself for not bringing some snacks along. On the 3rd day, we finally saw the prophet.

He conducted deliverance on me and I supposedly fell under the anointing although I knew it was hunger. He pronounced that the hands tying my legs from progressing had been cut off and a release of my results in three days with a score of 288.

Mama handed him a folded brown envelope, thanking him profusely.

I stared expressionlessly as she dusted my clothes. Obviously, this was a farce.

But I couldn’t explain that I had in fact checked my result beforehand and it was less than the 200 pass mark. Neither could I tell her that the otumokpo she saw under the bed was for success given to me by an herbalist my friend Adaeze and I went to: a month before she told me mama Ifeanyi goes to the same herbalist.

I decided to intensify my prayers hoping God would hear me. It was either that or the prophecy works or papa sends me to the farm.

I couldn’t tell mama this: she would surely have a heart attack.


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