The Nigerian Exorcist

She beckoned me to sit quietly as she locked the door. I picked up one of the pictures and looked at the three people in it. "My father. That's him in the middle" she said with a kind of nostalgia that almost brought tears to my eyes. I looked at her, she had turned somewhat red. She continued, her voice far away, "One day he went to buy some liquor. He never came back. Mommy says he's a bastard, but I know he'll be back one day. I know... I know" her voice trailed off, as she held back tears. I stood up, not accustomed to this sort of situation.

"So where is your mother?" I asked. The girl pointed at a door that looked like it was made from Iroko-tree wood. I walked cautiously to the door and placed my ear on it, so as to hear anything going on inside. My heart beat fast. BOOM! Something crashed against the door and I found myself running towards the other side of the room. I had to check to see that I hadn't wet my pants, which would have been embarrassing, but not entirely unaccounted for.

Oh yeah, if you had heard the sound, you, my friend, might just have leaked. My voice began to shake, as I could hear a deep growl from within the room. "Look young girl, I can't do this. I'm not the one supposed to do this. My brother is, but he's not here, so we'll just have to wait till he gets back." I hurried to open the door and leave but her voice held me in place. "Mommy will kill herself before then," her voice was full of a resoluteness that assured me she was telling the truth. I turned around to look at her. She had slumped on the ground and was sobbing silently.

At her side, a crumpled picture of her mother, father and self lay unobtrusively. I couldn't bring myself to leave. "What about the child-protection people?" I asked softly, but I knew the answer as soon as I asked. They would take her mother away, and she'd be all alone. That's what the young girl was afraid of. She didn't want to be alone. I walked back in and sat down beside her. She rested her head on my shoulder, still sobbing. "Don't worry, young girl," I placed my arm around her, "we'll solve this."

BOOM! BOOM! BOOM! The door pounded heavily. The girl crouched behind me and I found myself praying severely. The fervent and effectual prayer of a righteous man availeth much, I had heard my brother say, and though I wasn't righteous, the fervency with which I prayed was certainly effectual enough to warrant attention from Heaven. I stood up. "Ok young girl, let's sing choruses. Sing after me. "On de montain, in de valley, on de land, and in de sea...hallelujah" We started an inspiring revival session, to be envied even by the true Pentecostals.

I continued my preacherly duties. "For God so loved the world. That he gave his only gun. That whosoever wanted to enter the kingdom of God cannot pass through the eye of a camel" I was butchering the scriptures, but the pounding was not subsiding. I led my congregation in another song: "Higher higher higher higher higher, higher! When the going is going good, many many people will be your friend..." No that was not quite right. That wasn't a religious song.

BOOOOOOOM! The door came crashing down and in a split micro-second the possessed woman tore to the entrance of the house and faced us. There was no other exit. For some reason, the song "Baby Kilode" surfaced in my brain at such an odd time as that. It was a strange sensation. I looked at the woman, her hair (what was left of it) was a mess. Her eyes were, I kid you not, flaming red, and she was foaming at the mouth.

I was downright scared and was ready to start begging for mercy when a gentle nudge reminded me that there was somebody to fight for. She slipped her small hand into my palm, and squeezed it. It told me that there was someone backing me. I stood tall and faced the woman. Her heavy breathing was getting heavier as she glanced at me evilly, grunting now and again.

I spoke with authority. "Jesus I know! Paul I know! But who the hell are you!" No, I had gotten that backwards. It was the demon supposed to say this to me, but I had gotten it's attention and I continued. I raised my hand up in the air, as I had seen Charlton Heston do in The Ten Commandments and declared: "Where it not written?! Thou Pharaoh! Let My People Go!" Without the theme music it was not quite as effective, but oddly enough the woman was looking at me with what I could only discern as amusement.

And then I noticed her claws. Her fingernails were long and with that realization came the simultaneous one that she was walking towards me. I immediately shouted, as I had seen my brother do during one of his deliverance services, "What is your name?" The woman stopped in mid-stride as the demon answered. "My name is Chinedu."

I began to laugh. It was an Igbo demon. "Chinedu?" I said to the now-identified Nigerian spirit, " My name is Onovughe! I'm from Nigeria too!" The woman began to convulse as the demon laughed and spoke through her. "Ehn? So you be Nigerian man so? See as you come dey shout, dey yab like Moses for ten commandments." I began to laugh again. I explained to the demon that had I known it was of Nigerian descent, I would have spoken in pidgin English, earlier. The demon laughed even more "you no shame sef! Wait till dem hear this one for hell."

Now that we had a rapport, I spoke cautiously, "so na from hell you dey from come? The devil, is he a Nigerian man?" The demon

shrugged "No. The devil sef no even dey in charge anymore. When we reach hell, we do coup de tat and overthrow am. Now the devil na minister of external affairs. Na one chap called Sanni, na im dey in charge now"

It was all fascinating to me. Then the demon spoke, excitedly. "Ol boy, so you dey go nightclub tonite? I hear dem get some wonderful clubs wey I go like"

I wondered if I would take him out. "I suppose go to club chase some pikin dem. You wan come?" The demon nodded. He was game. "Oya, mek we go." But first he had to leave the woman’s body. It was decided that he’d leave the woman and enter a good looking man so that he could have access to the females. I gave the plan the go ahead. With that the demon left the woman and went out of the window.

The woman collapsed thankfully unto the couch and her daughter ran and hugged her. I could not believe what had just transpired. The two stayed there on the floor and had been weeping and laughing for a few seconds when the door bell rang. "It's daddy! It's daddy!" The girl shouted. "I just know it! I know it!" her eyes lit up and I felt so much emotion for the girl. She ran to the door and opened it.

Sure enough, there stood her father, a bible in one hand, and a bag in the other. He was clean-cut, very well dressed, and looked remarkably different from the picture on the floor. Both the young girl and her mother couldn't believe their eyes. They just looked in awe, happiness in their eyes. The man put down the bible, put down the bag, turned to me and said: "Oya ol boy, mek we go. If we nack the club early, we no for pay." "Excuse me, I hear you're, like, from Africa." I looked at her. She was barely a teenager, rather attractive, and seemingly naive. I nodded my head and responded "Yup."

She spoke again, "do you people, like, believe in exorcism and stuff?" I knew what she was getting at. "Yes," I replied, "I go to the gym once a week. Have to keep in shape. Exercise often." With that I started to walk off. I tried to play dumb, but she wouldn't give up. She ran after me. "No, I mean exorcism, you know. Like in the movies, where they cast out spirits and stuff like that."

I began to get uneasy but she was relentless. "Please sir! I need your help." I turned to face her. Her eyes were soft... pleading. I couldn't just leave her alone. I had heard what happened to her mother, her only off-kin, but I didn't know much about these matters. If it was my brother that would be a different story. He was more or less a pastor, and was well-versed in the art of deliverance or "exorcism" as these crazy first-worlders called it.

I decided to help her out in any way I could. "Listen, I know what you want from me. But I'm not qualified. I'll bring my brother to your place tomorrow and he'll help you out." She almost burst into tears. "Thank you very much sir! Thank you! Thank you!" She skipped off, leaving me rather uneasy. I didn't even know that my brother was going to have time, or even want to do this. But it was worth a shot.

The next day I found myself panicking. My brother had to stay an extra week in Brooklyn. I couldn't think of anyone else who could do such exorcism, but for my cousin Otuagga in Houston. It would be ridiculous for Otuagga to travel from Houston at any manner of short notice. I looked at the time. I had about ten minutes. "Excuse me," I stopped a passer-by, "Do you know how to cast out demons?" I couldn't understand why he looked at me the way he did. He must be racist, I thought. Can't I ask a simple question? I decided that I'd go to the girl's house and tell her what was going on--tell her that my brother couldn't make it.

I started shuffling my feet until I eventually broke into a walk and arrived at the house ten minutes later. Before I could ring the bell, the front door opened and the young girl was there beaming. "Thank God you're here. Hurry please. You're the only one that can help me and mama!"

I tried to protest, but her young hands dragged me through the hallway and into their apartment on the first floor. At least there was no possibility of me getting thrown out thirteen stories. Inside the apartment was a mess. There was paper everywhere, and books lay strewn on the floor. I saw several pictures also lying on the floor, most of them of the girl, her mother and a man whom I presumed was her father. Poor girl. Her father must be no more, and now this?

She beckoned me to sit quietly as she locked the door. I picked up one of the pictures and looked at the three people in it. "My father. That's him in the middle" she said with a kind of nostalgia that almost brought tears to my eyes. I looked at her, she had turned somewhat red. She continued, her voice far away, "One day he went to buy some liquor. He never came back. Mommy says he's a bastard, but I know he'll be back one day. I know... I know" her voice trailed off, as she held back tears. I stood up, not accustomed to this sort of situation.

"So where is your mother?" I asked. The girl pointed at a door that looked like it was made from Iroko-tree wood. I walked cautiously to the door and placed my ear on it, so as to hear anything going on inside. My heart beat fast. BOOM! Something crashed against the door and I found myself running towards the other side of the room. I had to check to see that I hadn't wet my pants, which would have been embarrassing, but not entirely unaccounted for.

Oh yeah, if you had heard the sound, you, my friend, might just have leaked. My voice began to shake, as I could hear a deep growl from within the room. "Look young girl, I can't do this. I'm not the one supposed to do this. My brother is, but he's not here, so we'll just have to wait till he gets back." I hurried to open the door and leave but her voice held me in place. "Mommy will kill herself before then," her voice was full of a resoluteness that assured me she was telling the truth. I turned around to look at her. She had slumped on the ground and was sobbing silently.

At her side, a crumpled picture of her mother, father and self lay unobtrusively. I couldn't bring myself to leave. "What about the child-protection people?" I asked softly, but I knew the answer as soon as I asked. They would take her mother away, and she'd be all alone. That's what the young girl was afraid of. She didn't want to be alone. I walked back in and sat down beside her. She rested her head on my shoulder, still sobbing. "Don't worry, young girl," I placed my arm around her, "we'll solve this."

BOOM! BOOM! BOOM! The door pounded heavily. The girl crouched behind me and I found myself praying severely. The fervent and effectual prayer of a righteous man availeth much, I had heard my brother say, and though I wasn't righteous, the fervency with which I prayed was certainly effectual enough to warrant attention from Heaven. I stood up. "Ok young girl, let's sing choruses. Sing after me. "On de montain, in de valley, on de land, and in de sea...hallelujah" We started an inspiring revival session, to be envied even by the true Pentecostals.

I continued my preacherly duties. "For God so loved the world. That he gave his only gun. That whosoever wanted to enter the kingdom of God cannot pass through the eye of a camel" I was butchering the scriptures, but the pounding was not subsiding. I led my congregation in another song: "Higher higher higher higher higher, higher! When the going is going good, many many people will be your friend..." No that was not quite right. That wasn't a religious song.