SUZAN writes…


Tope had always wondered why church events were always important to Shola. She never really understood why she would attend a church several miles from their apartment for three days in a week plus Sundays.
She never understood why Shola  handled sins as though sins can be nursed in a purse and then opened in the church for their God to swallow it up like food. It was as though they mourn their God rather than worship him. As though their God needs them more than they need him.
Tope was a church goer too but she attended a different church. They both met and became friends on their first day at the student nurses’ cafeteria because they both seemed like; they were one of those few ladies who had no jewelry or bold lipstick on. They were raised by religious parents, and so they became kindred spirit.
However, Tope had always thought Shola misused the word “faith” and it’s true meaning.
“In our church we don’t use drugs or any kind of medicine. Our God’s healing power is enough. We believe in his miracles.” She would say anytime Tope tried to shove a pill for a headache down her throat.
Tope would hiss and walk away, what kind of religion is that anyway? How is the holy book read in their church? Upside down?
What was the point studying to be a nurse if she doesn’t believe in her profession? What did God had to with drugs?
So many questions flooded Tope’s mind about a church whose congregation shed tears to God for the cleansing of their sins.
Tope wondered why Shola never had the same doubts like she did, perhaps they weren’t kindred spirit after all.
Tope wished she pulled her friend off this belief before it was too late. Before she realised she couldn’t do anything.
Shola was dying and she refused to believe in her profession. She believed in her God, at least the version she was raised to see.
“He will do it.” Shola said on her sick bed in our apartment.
Those were her last words before death took her away.
Her God didn’t do it, death did it.


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