PASSIONS

CHAPTER ONE

It was the last day of June.He removed the letter from the brown envelope that had been delivered to him that morning by post.He looked at the writing for sometimes and thought the writing was vaguely familiar.He began to read the letter.

Dear Rev. Canon Deshi,

Your sermon yesterday haunted me all night. I was really touched when you were talking. I've decided I will follow God.This is not a religious decision, it is an unconditional surrender, a voluntary submission to the holy wooing of the soul.Please pray for me.

With peace of mind,

Sonia G. (Miss).

He finished reading the letter and dropped it on the table, feeling happy and joyous. He hoisted his six - foot length from the chair behind the desk, almost entirely covered with books including Bibles. He moved to the window of the room.

His black eyes ran over the part of Sabon-Jimin which he could see. He could see a large part of it, for the Church stood on a hill. It stood on the highest point in the town. He had often reflected that this was where the Church should stand, like a spiritual guardian, over the raucous tin city.

Out beyond the ragged-looking town, he could see tin drilling and escavating machines that seem to arrow the sky. Out there, too, the tin drills were busy, day and night jabbing their beaks into the earth. He could visualise the iron-framed tin labourers, moving, joking and cursing. And at night they would crawl to Kantunn bringing their jokes and curses and begin their brawling, drinking and fighting.

Kantunn is the biggest liquor joint in the town. Most of the

inhabitants of the town take their liquor and freshly roasted bushmeat there until far into the night before they retire to their beds.

A smear of dew clung to the sky. The view was slightly hazy.Down in the streets he saw the big trucks crawling like giant turtles,making their lion-like roar.

"No wonder Lydia thinks the town is ugly," he remarked.Herecalled how Lydia had drawn back from Sabon-Jimin the day theycame to Pastor St. Mathias' Anglican Church.

“It almost frightens me, Rotshak” she had said.

He had said, “It's not a nice looking place. But I don't see itas you do. I grew up here”.

“It's awfully dirty, isn't it?” she said, “It's always clean inLagos.”

His optimism that time would change Lydia's attitude towardSabon-Jimin is still a mirage. Only the other day Lydia had said tohim, “Rotshak, I get the feeling that you are not the type of man forthis town! You're above it! People here won't understand your preach-ing!”

He had shrugged and replied, “It's my business to make themunderstand what I preach.”

He went back to his desk and began to prepare a sermon forthe coming Sunday. Suddenly he remembered the letter he read andwas happy that at least his impact is being felt.

He was searching his Bible Concordance when he thought heheard a soft scrapping sound on the door. He looked up to see his sixyear old son standing there. The boy's eyes were like Rotshak's. Theysearched him in an inquisitive manner. The boy's hair was neatlytrimmed and raven-black.

“Come on. Manji”, said Rotshak with a grin.

“Hello,Daddy”, said Manji. His clothes very, very dirty.

“How is school today, Manji?” asked Rotshak.

Manji wagged his head sorrowfully. “I hate school, Dad!”“You don't mean it, do you?”

“Yes,I hate school because the teacher beats me everyday.She dislikes only me in the whole class”, he said.

“Manji, you enter into mischief everyday,therefore your

Passions

teacher flogs you to correct you.And if you don't go to school youcan't grow up to be able to marry andbe a man."

Rotshak rose and lifted Manji to the desktop.

"That's nice.You would go to school and spare your mumand I the agony of being called the parents of a juvenile delinquent.won't you?”

"Sure",said Manji.Then added abruptly,“What are you do-ing,Daddy?”

“Working on a sermon.”

Manji nodded knowingly.“I know what a sermon is.

“What?”

“A sermon is what you say that makes God seem real topeople.”

Rotshak pursed his lips. “That is not what I told you a sermonis.”

“Kaka said it.”

He spread his hands. “So you like Kaka's definition of a ser-mon better than mine? Well,it's not a bad definition.That Kaka ispretty smart!”

“Kaka knows everything!" Manji said flatly.

“Now just a minute! Don't go making the woman too big andsmart!”

“I like Kaka. Well,most everybody.”

There was another knock on the door. Rotshak looked up tosee his wife.

“Hello,Lydia." He smiled his most affectionate.

Her eyes were darker than Rotshak's and her hair even darker.Her carefully dressed slimness and beauty never ceased to intriguehim. Compared to his tall form she was like a child.

“Hello.Rotshak."Her voice reflected her quiet feminity.

“I wonder what has become of Manji.”There was disap-proval on her delicate face. “Did you ever see anyone so dirty asManji?”

“Dirty?I hadn't noticed." Rotshak said quietly.

"You hadn't noticed? Just look at him!”

“Just a little bit of dirt!" mumbled Manji.

A smile lighted up Lydia's face as she went to Manji and hugged him closely,"Anyhow Mama still loves you"

"Sure",said Manji."Everybody loves me!"

"Such pride!" exclamined Rotshak.

“What's prife?"(mispronouncing the word)

"It's when your head gets too big for the rest of you, kid

Manji felt his head with both hands."It's not big, "he mur-

tered.

"I'd better take him in and tidy him up," said Lydia.“This is a dirty town!" she hissed.

Rotshak lifted up his shoulders and dropped them.“Any town has plenty of dirt in it for a boy to get dirty."

He went to her and slipped an arm about her slim shoulders.He stood a foot above her."This part of the world is strange to you but everybody can't live in Lagos, Abuja, Kano or Jos, my darling somebody has to stick with this tin town."

She was silent, turning her face up, her look locking into his.She put her slender hand on his, where it rested on her shoulders. Her fingers caught his, tightened, his face was tender and protective to hers.

"I was born and bred here.This is where I belong. I haven't any home other than Sabon-Jimin. So I can't run away from it.Though you detest this town, I'll try hard to keep this town, or anything else from hurting you, honey."

He caught her to him; he lifted her face and kissed her. His mouth close to her ear, he said, “ I'll always look after you, darling.You know that, don't you?”

“Yes, I know it,Rotshak.”

“Ya-ho”, cried Manji, still perched on the desk.“Ya-ho”

Lydia swung toward him, blushing.“Oh, you!”

“You can't be romantic around this boy," said Rotshak.“Take the little barbarian home and wash him up!”

“What were you two doing? What is romantic?” asked Manji.

“You'll find out, someday. With your looks and those eyes, kid. Go with your mother and get the Sabon-Jimin washed off."

“Sabon-Jimin...I like Sabon-Jimin.”

“Oh, you'd like it anywhere", said Lydia.

"Sure. Sure I like anywhere. Don't you like anywhere?”

Lydia took Manji away. Rotshak stood grinning after them.But the grinning faded presently and a small frown crept over his face.

Her unhappiness over this place keeps bothering me, he was thinking silently.

He sat down behind his desk. He shouted for Nenrit.

A moment later his secretary came in from her office. Nenrit Go'ar was tall, finely-framed, her eyes a deep brown. She' was fair complexioned, her dress, deep red gown with shoes to match.

Her sensuous mouth curved into a smile as she nodded to him.

He said, “Nenrit, here's the material for the sermon next Sunday.”

She took the sheets of paper he held.out, “I'm working on a book titled What Is God Up To? Do you like it?”

“The title, you mean?”

'Well, you couldn't very well say whether you like the book yet, could you?”

She blushed slightly but he laughed.“If you don't like it, after you read it, tell me.I value your judgement on such matters, as I've told you before."Rotshak said.

“Thank you, Canon Deshi.”She took the papers and left. He glanced at Lydia's picture on the table, smiling back at her smile. I love you, his mind seems to tell Lydia's photograph.

He had seen Lydia for the first time in Lagos,when he had gone there almost by chance. He had been studying in Kubacha for the Ministry, when a friend, Bode Jones, whose home was in Lagos, had suggested he goes home with him for a weekend, and he had accepted the invitation. However, Bode,who had a father who was well-off had financed the trip.

Bode Jones invited him to a church in Lagos for an evening youth fellowship; and after a well attended fellowship, Bode introduced him to the Pastor. The latter asked Rotshak if he would be able to preach a sermon the next day during a youth revival service. Rotshak agreed to do so.And so at the revival service he saw Lydia for the first time.

She was wearing a black skirt and a white blouse with a flowery mini jacket on top, and she sat toward the front of the crowd of young people to whom Rotshak talked.She was a member of the youth fellowship. Her eyes were so dark that they seerned to glow against a black frame of permed and immaculate hair on her shoulders.The face was a sensitive delicate oval, the mouth tender and expressive. Rotshak found his eyes returning again and again to her face as he spoke.

Several times his look caught the unsmiling cruel features of the woman who sat beside Lydia as he preached. Her eyes also were dark, but much less so than Lydia's. Her hair was thick and grey. She was a large woman who wore an air of importance; and Rotshak was irked with the feeling that she rather defied him as he spoke! The fact that she was at least fifty seemed to make her more noticeable.

Rotshak concluded his talk with,“God made man in order that man would worship Him.There is nothing worthwhile as having a religion with the true God as the banner”.

Immediately after the service, Lydia came to Rotshak.

“I'm Lydia Johnson,” she said, “I really like your sermon". Her smile lifted her fragile face as a light turned on behind a window. Her eyes were deep.They made him think of black pools of water. He kept holding the slim hand she gave him until she gently withdrew it. And he became a little shy at the realisation of the act.

Then the woman with grey hair approached them.Her face appeared to reprimand Rotshak of something. Her dress, necklaces, wristwatch in fact everything about her was expensive. She did not smile when she spoke to Rotshak.

“I'm Lydia's mother”, she said brusquely.

He bowed. “I'm pleased to meet you, Mrs. Johnson.”

“I always attend this young peoples' fellowships". Her voice afraid of being silenced, “I like to hear what the speakers are telling them

Rotshak tried a grin but it evaded him. He said quietly.“1hope my talk earn your credits.”

Mrs.Johnson spread her lips thinly. She fingered a glittering necklace with well-manicured fingers.“Must we make religion such a difficult thing? Did not Christ Himself say that His yoke is easy?”

Mrs.Johnson shrugged her wide shoulders.“If you would be a successful minister, young man, I would suggest that you give the people something to lift them rather than messages that will depress them!”

“But, mother, his message was not depressing, "said Lydia."It was very challenging.”

“Okay”, said her mother.“Incidentally, Mr.Deshi, I heard you are from Sabon-Jimin. Are you in the tin mining, your people I mean?”

He disliked the woman there and then. He said,“My Dad was in tin mining. He's dead now. As for me, you can see that I'm already in the ministry”

Rotshak kept thinking of the contrast between Lydia and her mother. In Bode Jones' home that evening he asked him about the Johnsons-Lydia's family.

“Old man Johnson founded the Joesco International Ventures all here in Lagos. He made huge sums of money through shipping and export. He's dead now. But Juliet Johnson rules the old Johnson's roost with a hand of iron. She lords it over her social set, too. She's a genuine i***t, believe me. Maybe you noticed her attitude."Jones explained.

“I could hardly help it”, said Rotshak.“But Lydia is... seems nice!”

“Lydia is a sweet girl. Don't ask how come. You would not know the old lady was her mother. She takes after her father. He was a pretty swell fellow from what I heard. His money didn't go to his head, and he was generous... when his wife didn't rule him.”

“Lydia is lovely!”, mused Rotshak.

“She tries to be a good Christian, too. She's humble and kind and level-headed and considerate of people. Her mother, of course, tries to dominate the Church and the Pastor. I doubt if anyone in the church ever really think her as a Christian. But they all love Lydia.”

"I'd like to know Lydia better, "Rotshak said.

"Ha! So would a lot of young men, I tried to know her better myself! She's not prone to male charm-at least she wasn't to mine!" Bode said.

That night Rotshak lay in bed with sleep eluding him because he was thinking of Lydia, Her beauty and charms have written themselves in his heart. But a sad feeling nagged him. A girl like that with all her position in the society and all her money would be beyond his reach.

But the following morning as he and Bode prepared to leave for the airport Lydia phoned him!

“I just wanted to wish you the best on your trip, and to tell you again that I was impressed with your sermon yesterday...I have a feeling....”

She hesitated and Rotshak said, “A feeling?”

“A feeling that you'll make a great and wonderful minister", she paused again, then said, “I wish I could hear you speak more often!”

“I wish so too" he said impulsively.

“Do you?”

“Yes, I do! And maybe you'll get to hear me speak often sometimes!”

“Well, I really hope so...Rotshak.”

That was how it all began.

***

The courtship came back to him as he sat in his room. He recalled the letters she had written. He cast a lustful look at the bottom drawer where he kept those letters.There was a haunting poetic quality in her writing that stirred him. And her feminity was visible through the letters, bright, sweet, and compelling. Lines out of the letters stamped in his mind.

Abruptly he pulled open the drawer and took out the bundle of letters. His name was written on top of the letters.The writing was as delicate as Lydia's face. He looked through some of the letters, smiling gently to himself. He restored the letters to the drawer.

A long breath stole into his lungs.He leaned back in his

chair. More of the past was televised before him

He was pastoring his first small church in Sabon-Jimin when he took a trip to Lagos to see Lydia. He found her quite irresistible and also found her wishing him to be irresistible too!

The courtship was swift.He could never forget so soon the evening he first held her close and told her how he loved her. She surrendered to him with a satisfied little cry.

“Oh Rotshak! I will never stop loving you!”

Even in the ectasy of the moment a disturbing thought crept into him.

“Lydia,” he said, “I am a Pastor of a little church in a littletown.There's nothing virtually I can offer you. You have been used to everything that money can buy. What moral justification have I to ask you to leave all you've known to share your place with me?”

Tears flowed her eyes. “Rotshak, one thing is certain. You said you loved me. I love you too! That's okay for us.”

Mrs.Juliet Johnson received the news with lack of grace utterly. She was too lewd and rile to talk to at first; and she raged in fury for two days silently. When she finally opened up she said bitterly. “I think Lydia is insane to marry a man with no future.”

Lydia cried,“No mother, he has a wonderful future!”

“You're in love and can't reason well and clearly, Lydia ”Mrs.Johnson said, “What future has he? Few, very few pastord ever amounted to anything in this world!”

Lydia held her peace and managed a wry grin against her wrath. Mrs. Johnson reviled and uttered all kinds of evil against Canon Deshi. But he was too over-joyed and overwhelmed with his love for Lydia even to feel deeply for Mrs. Johnson's inveighs.

“I would not allow this. Would I want my daughter to go and languish in penury when I have enough money to last me another 1,000 years?”, was Mrs.Johnson's insinuations.

Rotshak said quietly, “I suppose not. But, Mrs. Johnson, you must realise that Lydia and I love each other. And she would be happy".

“Love!" Mrs. Johnson grimaced. “A word for addle-headed children mostly. It takes something besides the word 'Love' to make anything a success.And you have not got it. It takes money!"

"I will make her happy, Mrs. Johnson.You'll see."

Lydia's mother set her mouth.“Rotshak if you fail to treat Lydia right I'll come and take her away from you! I warn you! Do anything to her and see. Do you hear me?”

The wedding had been an elaborate affair. Mrs.Juliet Johnson spared no expenses. Having yielded to the inevitable she even pretended a vast happiness before her guests. She laughed gaily and said. “Isn't my son-in-law handsome and nice?”

But with the wedding reception over she changed quickly like a chameleon.The face she set toward Rotshak was uncompromisingin it's opposition to him. Her angry silence gripped her once more. She locked herself in her room and refused to talk to either Lydia orRotshak.

Lydia trembled in Rotshak's arms and cried, “Oh, how I wish she could understand how much we love each other!”

Mrs.Juliet Johnson mellowed down somewhat, outwardly the next day. But her look still warned Rotshak that she was not his friend.

A few days later Rotshak and Lydia came to their small house in Lufuk, Sabon-Jimin, a village, peopled mostly by farmers and miners, many of whom regarded the church as an organisation one could join or leave alone. Far too many of them decided on the latter course.

Rotshak and Lydia were still in Sabon-Jimin, Rotshak's birthplace, when Manji was born.