That was how the episode of Darling Rose ended in my life but as the saying goes: ‘when the window of opportunity closes, God opens a door’ (bigger and wider, better able to accommodate).
After the debacle of Darling Rose, you would think I’ll mind my business and just live my life, serving my God and going to work as I should. Indeed, that was exactly what I was doing when I met Jane and Joy; serving the Lord, I mean.
Jane and Joy are twins, not identical but with enough resemblance to show they are sisters. They came to church together one Sunday morning and I met them through the visitation unit, which is the department I work with in church.
They came to the church for the first time that Sunday and identified with the people worshiping in the church for the first time, and one of the responsibilities of the department is to welcome them and intimate them with the church activities; for which I was responsible that particular Sunday.
It was Jane who caught my eye while I was addressing them. Her face is not classically beautiful but it has enough character as to attract attention. Her eyes are big, bold and guileless; looking into them gives you the impression of falling into a bottomless pit. These eyes drew me into her being and I knew I just had to meet her. I found myself wishing I didn’t have to stay behind to collate all the data collected. I hoped I could catch up with her before she left the church.
By the time I rounded up my windy speech, they had filled the little cards given to them with their personal data and I made sure I was first in line so I could be the one to collect hers, scan through it quickly and store her information in my very own little black book (my brain).
Unfortunately, I didn’t make it to her side on time. I saw another member of my unit approach her and collect the card from her, smiling at her while he did so. He raised his head and our eyes met, mine shooting daggers at him and his questioning, wondering why I was scowling at him. “Get a grip, man”. I admonished myself. It wouldn’t do to argue over a fine babe with a fellow brother and right under the pastor’s nose to boot.
When I looked back at the spot where I last saw the pretty lady, she was gone. I berated myself for my stupidity. I should have approached her when I had the chance instead of engaging in a gazing war with Essien (the overzealous worker). Now, I had only myself to blame.
I thought of her all day and at night, I found myself praying, not for the hungry children of this world nor for the countries at war, instead I prayed that she would come back to church and that I would have the opportunity to talk with her one on one.
Little did I know that what I was looking for in Sokoto was right in my apo sokoto(trouser pocket).