The so called witch

There was this time my dad fell very sick, i mean, so sick, he could not eat, sleep or talk, he could only write to communicate, the doctors didn’t know what was wrong with him yet they gave him lots of medication and treatment that worsened his health. Some said it was poison, others said it was spiritual yet another said it was traditional blah, blah, blah. I didn’t know what is was and  didnt care, i just wanted my sweet dad back to health.

     I was only 11 years old, in secondary school and a daddy’s girl “Not now please? I begged God and cried my eyes out. My mother visited many spiritualists out of desperation and many fake pastors duped her Chai! I so wish i knew what i know now. There was a certain pastor that claimed

I was the witch and should be brought to his ministry for deliverance, I was taken there!  My mum left me to the prophet!

     I was left hungry for days, the so-called pastor said if i didn’t agree that I was the witch tormenting my dad, i was not going to eat. Many other children were there too, left to hunger and thirst. Of course, most  eventually claimed they

were witches. The prophet ripped their ignorant parents off claiming they have confessed and have been delivered!

                “You this girl, you don’t want to go

                 home? Better just say you’re a witch,

                   you were asked to bring someone

                  you love most to be sacrificed in your

                   coven, you brought your dad and

                 tied him up for sacrifice thats why

                 he’s so sick.

                 If you do that, we will let you eat,

                 we’d also call your mum and you

                  will go home”

You see? I was a stubborn girl, but how long can an 11/12year old last  with hunger? After four days of sleeping on the cold concrete floor, with lots of

mosquito bites, no cover cloth in the harmattan, of a very bushy area in some part of Jos south. Oh?! Did i mention the building we stayed in was uncompleted?

Oh?! Yes! it was.

Children as little as 2 to 3years were there, how can such babies be called witches too? I see them cry out loud as they feed them with watery, tasteless pap every morning. I agreed to confess, i was tired, i couldn’t bear the sight anymore. I was given a dried bread with water while they called my mum to come

and pick me up. I plaited my hair, it was corn rolls, two at the centre were cut off and some brown substance rubbed at the middle of my head just before

my mum arrived. I was asked to repeat what i had told them, i repeated the script they made me rehearse

                  My mum cried,

                  Oh?! How she cried!

 Money exchanged hands, They claimed they had done the deliverance on me and something was removed from my head to prove it, they claimed it was the mark of the coven, which signifies i’d be next in line to the throne when i succeed in sacrificing my dad My mum saw the substance and believed, she was disappointed in me,

I was taken back home and labelled a witch. Me, a witch? Daddy’s favorite, slay Princess like me that can’t hurt a fly. Me that prayed and prayed for my dad

I begged God to heal him, I cried, i pleaded, all to no avail, me like this o, was called the witch that afflicted my dad. Well….!!!

My dad never recovered,i was 12 years old when he died in June that year, he was about to be taken to the mortuary when he jacked back to life.

He came back home, looking for his Princess, everyone was surprised, no one wanted to come near him, they said it was his ghost, i was in school when this happened.

      He could now walk, eat, talk and do lots of things himself but he couldn’t hear. We wrote to communicate with him, the doctor said the drugs affected his hearing. It was our mid-term break and my dad called to talk to me privately. The eyes, the side talks, the repulsion, the body language, the attitude

towards me, like how can the witch be the only person he wished to see? Privately? It amazed them. Yes!

 Many were in our house, my dad was a man of the people. He was humour personified, he was jovial, kind and a giver, he was well known and very sort after.

                                        “I died and went somewhere, My Dad said,

                                           “while i was waiting, i told the attendant

                                         that i had a family to settle, i can’t die now,

                                           take me back, let me at least put my house

                                            in order”

My Dad said the attendant agreed and said he’ll give him a little more time, little enough just to put his house in order, that was how he woke up.

                                    “I know I will die soon, but i can’t die without talking to you and handing things over to you”

“You may not be my first child or a boy but certainly your future is bright, People look at my family and see a girl in the midst of four boys, but what i see is a river in the middle of of great mountains”. He said lots of things i cannot say here. I cried my eyes out, if tears brought people back to life, mine alone was

enough for my father’s. My dad did the little he could before he finally died. Oh?! Did i tell you my mum was pregnant when she was passing through all this? Yes! She was pregnant with her last child, he was given birth to on the 29th of August 2005 while my dad passed on 2nd October 2005.

No wonder he had to come back to life, how could he leave without naming his child or at least vindicating his Princess?

Nah! He had to. My brother was named OJEELA meaning “the kind one “OR” the one that knows it all”.

               Why did i remember this? I don’t know, i just felt like writing it here and keeping memories. But you see? As long as there are fake pastors and prophets it shows that the original ones, The God-sent are still available, there can’t be a fake drug if the original ones are not available. Which drug will the fake imitate?

All you that are unbelieving, It’s time to let the hurt go, Its time to bury the hatchets and have an open mind. Someone you loved so much died? it makes you so angry you start to claim there is no God?. I’ve been there before, know that your hurt doesn’t dethrone God, He is God all by Himself and Him not answering your prayers doesn’t make Him less of Himself. As a matter of fact, my mum took me to another ministry where a woman of God was a Prophetess and her husband, a Pastor. After praise and worship she began speaking in tongues and prophesying in its beauty, this woman was so beautiful and i wished to be like her, everything she prophesied came to be and in one of her services, i opened my mouth to say “God i want to be like this woman, Let everything i say come to be.”As little as i was, i noticed anything i said or thought of then came to be, I became a little prophet at age12/13. Like i said if there is a fake, then the Original must be somewhere else, who would the fake imitate?

         God is real, whether you want to believe it or not. God is real and you can’t stop Him from existing. You didn’t put Him there in the first place so why try so hard to deny His existence?

        Come to Jesus today, He is the only to this God, the Holy Spirit will help you believe and do away with all the hurt in your heart. If i can be saved, you too can.

Just send a message to Princess Ojo Onogwu on facebook, I will tell you how to be saved.

I love you!.