Where did that innocence go? By Oluwaseun Beatrice Wende

Where did that innocence go?
Oluwaseun Beatrice Wende

Around the corner, close to my former hostel, there was this home based church. They always had one program or the other each day of the week; jeez, Thursdays were hell. The disturbance, the funny prophesies, and really weird prayer points made us laugh daily.

Sundays, well, that was a different ball game entirely. Usually, I go to Mass before their service starts, and return around 9am when they're rounding up their Sunday school program. Then, without exaggeration, the service continues till 2-3pm.

But something made me tolerate this church, despite all I assumed were mere shenanigans. It was their children choir. These kids practiced every Saturday evening, would meet them rehearsing on my way back from our own choir rehearsals. I remember the first time I heard them singing; I was just dropping my music file on the bed when I heard them.

I met my neighbor and we walked towards the church together to hear the kids singing. They weren't harmonising, there were no instruments; except the drum set, but to me, it was the best thing I've heard that year. When we got there, the kids were together, no supervisor, even the drummer was a kid.

Gosh, their expression was out of this world; so pure, happy, and they certainly looked like they were enjoying themselves. No one was giving a very practiced move, they weren't forming accents with God's name, neither were they posing on stage. It was just raw energy.

And I started going back every Saturday after that, just to hear them sing. I remember when I was like that, without a care in the world when it came to being with God. Loved reciting memory verses, singing, and certainly showing off my non existent dance skills. But as I grew up, my peers told me it was uncool.

To sing, you had to stand in a certain way, move your hands stylishly, make sure your voice is sonorous, and be careful not to let your dress shift. Before long, I cared more about what people would think of my performance than what God would think of it. I stopped letting it all go in his presence.

Standing up there, all we can think about is besting somebody else. We are now vindictive, full of ourselves, and boastful. Can I go back to being that little girl? Because, acting gets tiring after a while, but the Father accepts you the way you are.

Oluwaseun Beatrice Wende © 2019

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