{"id":343,"date":"2014-06-13T21:14:34","date_gmt":"2014-06-13T21:14:34","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/adauzoije.com\/?p=343"},"modified":"2015-09-20T15:16:51","modified_gmt":"2015-09-20T15:16:51","slug":"millipede-chasing-part-1","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/adauzoije.com\/?p=343","title":{"rendered":"Millipede Chasing &#8211; Part 1"},"content":{"rendered":"<p><iframe loading=\"lazy\" title=\"Millipede Chasing\" width=\"640\" height=\"360\" src=\"https:\/\/www.youtube.com\/embed\/82GLHb-SmW4?feature=oembed\" frameborder=\"0\" allow=\"accelerometer; autoplay; clipboard-write; encrypted-media; gyroscope; picture-in-picture; web-share\" referrerpolicy=\"strict-origin-when-cross-origin\" allowfullscreen><\/iframe><\/p>\n<p style=\"text-align: center;\"><a href=\"http:\/\/adauzoije.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/2014\/12\/print-mllipede-chasing-cover5_25x8.jpg\"><img loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"aligncenter wp-image-547 size-large\" src=\"http:\/\/adauzoije.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/2014\/12\/print-mllipede-chasing-cover5_25x8-510x383.jpg\" alt=\"Pageflex Persona [document: PRS0000030_00033]\" width=\"510\" height=\"383\" srcset=\"https:\/\/adauzoije.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/2014\/12\/print-mllipede-chasing-cover5_25x8-510x383.jpg 510w, https:\/\/adauzoije.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/2014\/12\/print-mllipede-chasing-cover5_25x8-600x451.jpg 600w, https:\/\/adauzoije.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/2014\/12\/print-mllipede-chasing-cover5_25x8-300x225.jpg 300w, https:\/\/adauzoije.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/2014\/12\/print-mllipede-chasing-cover5_25x8-700x525.jpg 700w\" sizes=\"auto, (max-width: 510px) 100vw, 510px\" \/><\/a><\/p>\n<p style=\"text-align: center;\">\n<p style=\"text-align: center;\"><a href=\"http:\/\/www.amazon.co.uk\/Millipede-Chasing-Story-Ada-Uzoije-ebook\/dp\/B00REGSK28\/ref=sr_1_2?s=digital-text&amp;ie=UTF8&amp;qid=1442762171&amp;sr=1-2\" target=\"_blank\" rel=\"noopener\">CLICK HERE TO PURCHASE<\/a><\/p>\n<p style=\"text-align: center;\"><strong>MILLIPEDE CHASING<\/strong><\/p>\n<p style=\"text-align: center;\">Text Copyright \u00a9 Ada Uzoije 2014<\/p>\n<p style=\"text-align: center;\">All Rights Reserved<\/p>\n<p style=\"text-align: center;\">This story is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author&#8217;s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.<\/p>\n<p>\u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 <strong>\u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 <\/strong><\/p>\n<p><strong>\u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0PART ONE<\/strong><\/p>\n<p>&nbsp;<\/p>\n<p><em>\u201cWOOF! WOOF!\u201d<\/em> echoed the yapping noise of the dogs on the streets of this small town in Abia state. They were all were barking loudly at the even noisier traffic where no-one ever obeys the rules of the road &#8211; that is &#8211; if any exist. \u00a0Here the drivers\u2019 mottos were to the effect of, \u201cDrive through any space you see, even if it\u2019s flying over a sleeping beggar, no one cares.\u201d From bicycles to dilapidated vans riddled by rust and held together with duct tape, the transport of the town bustled, cutting in and swerving in the unmarked roads where there were no designated driving spaces to avoid catastrophic consequences. Yet, there were surprisingly few accidents.<\/p>\n<p>Welcome to Nigeria.<\/p>\n<p>It was Sunday morning, when Christianity\u2019s madness possessed most Igbos. Since the Catholic missionaries brought Jesus Christ with them to the Eastern Nigerians in the eighteenth century, He stayed, and apparently never went back to Heaven again. Igbos just loved this man so much that, in their mad reverence, they built houses for Him on every street, an ode to the One they placed all their faith in.<\/p>\n<p><em>\u201cCLONK!\u00a0 CLONK!<\/em>\u201d the high-heeled shoes of the younger women clapped as they ran zealously. They were running as if racing for a prize to be won for those reaching the church first. However, the men seemed more confident in their casual walking, with those shiny polished black shoes they spent so much time on. One may well have thought that they were due at some job interview somewhere. Their faces flushed with anxiety, their hearts pounding very fast as they gripped their Bibles tightly in their right hands. Superstitious as the Igbos were, they took great care never to use their left hands, as that was just inviting bad luck, they believed. All this went about while it was only 8:30 a.m. and the sun was already wide awake, smiling eagerly upon everyone below.<\/p>\n<p>Summer in Africa was almost unbearable. Today was no different in the town as the morning rays bit into the skins of the people, warming them into a moist heat long before the midday swelter. With the arid atmosphere at 32 degrees Celsius it was very hot, drying the nostrils of those who dared venture outside in the bright sun. Some of the townspeople enjoyed the warm weather, but most found it nearly intolerable. Impairing the ability to stay cool, it was the type of weather that drained every droplet of water from you should you dare go unsheltered. Many of the people kept cotton shirts and dresses on to cover their skin and keep the air circulating through. There was nothing worse than a heavy fabric in the punishing sun, but some Igbos disagreed. In this blistering temperature there were some, mostly the married women, who were still very loyal to their traditional attire. They would wear embroidered puffed sleeve blouses, along with two wrappers and plastic-like head scarfs. This is the Igbo pride.<\/p>\n<p>Smelly sweat would trickle down from one\u2019s hair to one\u2019s face. It would run from the face to the chin, the chin to the chest, the chest to the waist where the belt would press heavily on the accumulating wetness before the sharp reeking perspiration would finally meander from the waist to the knees and from the knees would run in tiny rivulets to settle amongst the toes. What an awful sensation it was to feel one\u2019s socks become wet in those posh shoes, fermenting in the heat as one would walk! This was annoying, as most found this unacceptable.<\/p>\n<p>Stinking was not an option when visiting Jesus. Wiping the damage of the heat with a handkerchief seemed like a good idea and most of the church congregation would have the small cloths clutched in their hands for easy access to wipe the diabolical nuisance from their hot brows. The odour of strong perfume filled the air &#8211; best prepared for these special occasions.<\/p>\n<p>\u201dI\u2019m going to claim that miracle,\u201d was the message these Christians were broadcasting, adorning themselves with all manner of trinkets to impress. As they poured into the church in groups, filling the seats inside, the choir rose to commence the service. They let out their big voices in praise of Jesus and they sang:<\/p>\n<p><strong><em> Ibu ngalaba ji isi ndu mua oo (x2)<br \/>\nChim ji eme onu,ibu ngalaba ji isi ndu mua oo (x2)\u00a0 <\/em><\/strong><\/p>\n<p><strong><em>You are the pillar that holds my life (x2)<br \/>\nMaster Jesus you are the pillar that holds my life (x2).\u00a0 (English\u00a0 translation)<br \/>\n<\/em><\/strong><\/p>\n<p>The congregation rose up from their seats and started dancing to the song. Women, men and children clapped their hands as they sang and danced to the fervent gospel song. A short, fair-skinned man who appeared to be in his late thirties was jumping and stamping his feet, shouting, \u201cJesus, I love you Jesus!\u201d \u00a0No one stared at him since there were always a few attention-seekers like him in every church.\u00a0 The man continued furiously, now shaking his head in some delirium of passion for his God. He jumped up from his seat to move out in plain sight of all, standing in the aisle that divided the congregation between the right and the left. He was leaping up high and bouncing like a basketball. \u201cYou are the One who saved me! I love my Daddy!\u201d he sang, making changes to the lyrics as he went along. His voice rose over the others as if he thought God would hear him first.<\/p>\n<p>Oops &#8230; here came the pastor! He moved with authority with his wife beside him. As he walked, his eyes brushed over the congregation as if he was taking stock of who was present. The music stopped. The choir members and the congregation sat down immediately. Silence filled the room for a second with only the occasional throat clearing or cough resounding from somewhere in the sea of faces. The minister looked sternly over his spectacles for a moment and his wife placed her purse and Bible on his empty chair next to her.<\/p>\n<p>\u201cPraise the Lord!\u201d cried pastor Obinna suddenly, his voice thundering through the church.<\/p>\n<p>\u201cHallelujah!\u201d answered the congregation with a booming reply.<\/p>\n<p>\u201cThe Lord is happy to see all your beautiful faces this morning,\u201d the pastor said with a rare smile cracking on his lips.<\/p>\n<p>\u201cHallelujah!\u201d shouted the congregation. The light-skinned, short man stood up from his seat and cried out, \u201c&#8217;The Lord is good! Hallel&#8230;l&#8230;u&#8230;ya&#8230;h!\u201d He waved both hands and stamped his feet so hard that the floor vibrated, making quite the spectacle of himself.<\/p>\n<p>Everyone laughed and said, \u201cAmen.\u201d<\/p>\n<p>\u201cBrother, you are very happy today! Come over here to the pulpit and tell us what the Lord has done for you,\u201d the pastor invited, urging the short man to come forward with a mild gesture of his hand.<\/p>\n<p>Ecstatic to have his moment, the man ran toward the pastor like a child running to the embrace of his mother. He jumped proudly onto the raised platform reserved for the pastor and his seated wife.<\/p>\n<p>\u201cNow, tell us what the Lord has done for you,\u201d the pastor asked again, smiling at the giddy church member.<\/p>\n<p>The man plucked the microphone forcefully from the pastor and screamed, \u201cP&#8230;r&#8230;a&#8230;i&#8230;.s&#8230;e the Lord!\u201d<\/p>\n<p>\u201cHallelujah!\u201d the congregation shouted louder than before. Some sat down while others paid close attention, eager to embrace what the short man was about to testify.<\/p>\n<p>\u201cThe Lord was so good to me yesterday. Everyone knows me as brother Sunday, for those who are new to the church. The Lord is very good,\u201d he beamed with glee, panting in the exertion of his excitement. \u201cMy wife and I recently had a bouncing baby boy! We have been trying for boys for ten years now. We have six girls,\u201d he said as the congregation answered in \u2018Praise the Lord\u2019 and \u2018Halleluiah\u2019 while he spoke, \u201c\u2026and I have been fasting and praying and asking God, \u2018Please bless us with a son like Jesus.\u2019 Then, when my wife gave birth yesterday, He had answered my prayer \u2026\u201d but before the elated man could finish, a lady rose from the congregation and screamed, \u201cAmen! God is good!\u201d and then she sat down again.<\/p>\n<p>\u201cThank you, sister. I want everyone to thank God for me &#8211; for making me the happiest man on earth,\u201d Sunday requested with his hand on his chest.<\/p>\n<p>The pastor took the microphone from him. \u201cEveryone say \u2018Amen!\u2019\u201d<\/p>\n<p>\u201cAmen!\u201d shouted the congregation in perfect unity.<\/p>\n<p>Pastor Obinna turned to the man and asked, \u201cSo, where are your Madam and the bouncing baby?\u201d<\/p>\n<p>Smiling and still dancing with joy Sunday answered, \u201cMy beautiful wife is resting at home, Pastor. But she will come next Sunday with all my daughters.\u201d<\/p>\n<p>The content pastor patted him on the back and said, \u201cDon\u2019t forget your offering and tithes, you must thank God very well for this blessing.\u201d<\/p>\n<p>\u201cYeoooo! I thank God,\u201d the man exclaimed.<\/p>\n<p>\u201cYou see, God would surely deliver if we are true in our hearts. He knows what we need and the needs of our spirit. Have faith in &#8230;\u201dBefore he could finish, a hysterical overweight woman, dressed in traditional Igbo attire and wearing sunglasses,rushed into the gathering and shouted, \u201cThief! Thief! He took my church offering of \u20a615000!\u201d<\/p>\n<p>Her voice cut through the merriment as she fell against the pew next to her, shocked and worried with eyes wide in panic. An imposter posing as a churchgoer had followed the woman to the church entrance and seized her bag from her. \u00a0Surely God must be angry. How dare a common sinner steal from Him? Without a second thought the congregation, consisting of men, women and children, the old, young, rich, poor, large, small, tall, short, all fled out of the church service and raced toward the big wooden double door. The thief was not yet far away from the open gate. Their feet stomped and they screamed at the top of their voices as they ran. It was as if The Rapture was upon them.<\/p>\n<p style=\"text-align: center;\"><a href=\"http:\/\/adauzoije.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/2014\/06\/igbo-woman-2-cartoon.jpg\"><img loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"aligncenter wp-image-344 size-full\" src=\"http:\/\/adauzoije.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/2014\/06\/igbo-woman-2-cartoon.jpg\" alt=\"igbo woman 2 cartoon\" width=\"3300\" height=\"2336\" \/><\/a>\u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0<strong>The story continue&#8230; Part 2 will be posted on the \u00a021\/06\/2014<\/strong><\/p>\n<p style=\"text-align: center;\">\u00a0 \u00a0 I hope you enjoy your visit to Igboland? Kindly, leave a comment below.<\/p>\n<p style=\"text-align: center;\">THANK YOU<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"<p>CLICK HERE TO PURCHASE MILLIPEDE CHASING Text Copyright \u00a9 Ada Uzoije 2014 All Rights Reserved This story is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author&#8217;s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental. \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 [&hellip;]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":344,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":"","_links_to":"","_links_to_target":""},"categories":[4],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-343","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-crazy-ada"],"jetpack_featured_media_url":"https:\/\/adauzoije.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/2014\/06\/igbo-woman-2-cartoon-scaled.jpg","_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/adauzoije.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/343","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/adauzoije.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/adauzoije.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/adauzoije.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/adauzoije.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=343"}],"version-history":[{"count":21,"href":"https:\/\/adauzoije.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/343\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":1063,"href":"https:\/\/adauzoije.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/343\/revisions\/1063"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/adauzoije.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/media\/344"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/adauzoije.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=343"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/adauzoije.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=343"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/adauzoije.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=343"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}