God Works In Mysterious Ways

By Ikenga Chronicles July 7, 2019

God Works In Mysterious Ways

— Dr. Onyemaechi Ogbunwezeh

It was around 4.00 am, when we dragged our tired asses out of the salsa club. We caught the first trams going back to the hostel.

The journey was uneventful until we got to the hostel.

He came in from Nigeria to start German lessons, before commencing his studies. I was in my second year, as a Postgrad.

We had wined. Dined. And danced.

My brother was the president of the Scripture Union in his university in Nigeria, before he got the opportunity to come here.

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I introduced him into the “corrupt world” of night crawling, in clubs, where we see raw flesh of beautiful daughters of Eve, seductively packaged to give a monk some erection.

We were in those clubs, where anyone; men and women could ask anyone for a dance and start shaking the hips to these Latino tunes, before you could stand up.

I never knew that my night out with this brother of mine, designed to take his eyes and minds off German vocabularies for a while and show him that life is larger than the narrow planes of books and bible, was an unforgivable crime, for which he was praying the whole night for my deliverance.

On this night, our eyes saw miracles of God in feminine form throughout the night. My brother was shocked by the bodies on display and asses that sashayed to Bachata tunes. I never knew he was waiting and praying that God delivers us from this den of iniquity.

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This den of iniquity for him, happens to be the playground of people like me. We danced the night away. We drank. We talked to girls and women. We got numbers for future exploration. And we were happy.

I noticed that my brother breathed a sigh of relief immediately the Tram welcomed our asses. At our Busstop, we hopped off. That was when he started.

“Those girls and people can dance well. But they are going to hell you know. “

I raised my head to listen more attentively.

“Yes. They are going to hell. God does not like people dancing in a Discotheque!”

That was coming from my brother, who barely escaped his village and was having his first night out in the financial capital of Europe.

I kept quiet. I was tired. I needed my bed more than the drivel coming out of a mouth that consumed some German beer, which for him was not in the category of mortal sins.

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“You know that I have been praying for you the whole night, as I watched you dance with one woman after another! I was praying that God shows you a sign that your dance steps are immoral and doesn’t please God.”

I was very busy looking at this God’s dirty mouthpiece, talking rubbish on my dime. But I kept quiet.

As we got into the hostel. I eased the key into the keyhole as the main door flung open. Students’ hostel everywhere is always a beehive of activities on Saturday nights/Sunday mornings.

As we walked past a series of rooms that stood between me and my own door(since my brother was putting up with me, having not yet secured his own accommodation) that was when from nowhere, we both heard it at the same time.

The male voice from one of the rooms screamed in a not too loud a voice; “God! You taste so good!”

We were both startled.

I thought I knew what it was.

But before I could give it a thought, my Scripture Union brother tapped me on the shoulders and said: “I told you”! Our God is great. That was the sign I was praying for the whole night.

“You see, a German guy is screaming in English, ‘God, You taste so good’, at the exact moment we were coming in. You see, our God is real. He has given us a sign. You that live in sin should repent.”

I was too tired to talk. I just thought to myself, well just let me sleep first.

After settling down a bit, we both realized that we were hungry.

The kitchen on our floor of the Students Hostel, is a general kitchen and meeting place for everyone on our floor. That kitchen is busy 24 hours a day.

So it was that around 5.45 a.m on this Sunday morning, after a night of fun, dancing and relating with the opposite sex, we found ourselves boiling hot water to make Eba in Frankfurt. Scarcely have I removed the Egusi soup from the freezer and about to put it in the microwave, than Terry entered the kitchen.

Monologue

Terry was a 20 year old exchange student, researching in high particle Physics at the university for his dissertation. Terry is one of the most active smooth operators on our floor. He is a lively and boisterous fellow. Terry is the kind of guy that starts talking to you before you can raise your head up. If there is any secret you want the whole world to know, just make Terry aware of it and tell him not to tell anyone. In 20 minutes, the news would be making the rounds in the whole university. We use Terry for free advertisements, whenever you want to be mischievous. We had nicknames for each other. I call Terry “Blood Colonizer”. And Terry calls me “Martin Luther King Jr”!

Terry was from England. Terry is an honest dude, who never keeps his mouth shut. If Terry scores, he will tell you all the juicy details. He has no filters or valves.

The water was boiling and my Scripture Union brother raised his head up too as Terry started shooting out words before I could do some formal introductions.

I was about to say “Blood Colonizer, this is…, when Terry swamped me out with a torrent of words pelting us like Noachian Deluge.

“You know what happened today,” he said.

“I was just eating this girl out! God, she tasted so good, that I was screaming. “

“I heard you!” I muttered.

I looked at my brother and said; “You see, God works in mysterious ways.”

The rest they say, is….

Gwazia ndi yard unu!

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