Did your mother ever tell you not to take food from strangers? Here’s Kunle’s story.
In 2004, Kunle and his family took a trip to Tarkwa Bay beach as they always made sure to have family outings on Sundays. On that faithful evening, the beach was less crowded than usual. A few other families were scattered around the beach with some children playing near the water while others ran races from one end to another, clapping hands and arguing over who truly won the race. Kunle and his siblings were not allowed to go close to the water so they went to join the runners.
A dark skinned woman with long curly hair as black as charcoal stood close to the water as though supervising the children, but no one could pinpoint whose mother or aunty she was, honestly none of them cared. She came with a bag of kuli kuli and dropped one in each palm of a child that was around. Some rejected it with the fear of their mothers watching them take food from a stranger, while others popped theirs straight into their mouths. Kunle’s elder brother let his kuli kuli fall to the ground and nudged his younger brother to do the same but he refused.
Kunle experienced a strange encounter ever since he ate that kuli kuli - an encounter that would remain with him whenever he went to sleep for next eighteen years.
He met Wafi that night. As he slept, he found himself at the seaside, alone and wandering in darkness and the sound of the water - each wave louder that the former. Although, as he walked further, he realized he wasn’t alone. Kunle recognized the face of the woman who’d given him the piece of groundnut treat at the beach earlier that day. She was more majestic than he remembered.
She walked out of the water towards him with a little girl that seemed about his age. Her presence commanded that of several iroko trees even though she was only of an average height. Her eyes were as blue as the water and the little girl looked like a younger version of her. The hairs on Kunle’s body stood tall as sweat rested on his eyebrows and the sides of his face.
She introduced herself as Waunja, the goddess of the night and the little girl was Wafi, her daughter. She handed her over to him and instructed that from then onwards, they would take care of each other till the day Kunle died. Although, Kunle was too young to understand what was going on, he knew it was not ordinary therefore he kept it to himself as Wafi or the goddess of night never frightened him or treated him badly.
Over the years, every Sunday, he and Wafi ate feasts together and spoke about Kunle’s new phases of life in his dreams. She always helped him succeed in his academics and now career but as the years went by, his fortune started to wear thin as he expressed the desire to stop seeing Wafi. It wasn’t because she wasn’t or loving but to Kunle, she was only a spirit that couldn’t manifest in his physical world. He’d gotten to a point where he desired to have a woman when he was awake but every time he attempted a physical relationship, Waunja would torment the young lady until she broke all ties with him.
Kunle no longer wanted to this mystical relationship so he sought a way to be free. He never engaged in religious practices but he has heard stories about people in his mother’s church getting delivered from spirit wives and husbands. He’d seen a tee shirt from the Meji Meji ministry in his mother’s room, it read “Support our ministry”, it was a campaign the church was holding for new converts. He put it on and decided it was time to tell his family about his relationship with Wafi.
With loud declarations of the “blood of Jesus”, Kunle’s mother screamed and held her head in despair as she heard about the encounters her son had had with a spirit for eighteen years. She cried until her neighbors called out to her from outside the window, “Iya Segun, ki lo sele?!” they asked with puzzled looks. She ran into her room and grabbed her anointing oil, planting drops as she walked round the house, “Ko si oo” she yelled out to the neighbors to drive them away. She was a believer in keeping her family matters private.
Kunle and his mother walked through the doors into the building of empty pews to the altar, greeting the pastor and other ministers who held large bibles and bottles of holy oil.
“Son, are you ready for your deliverance?”
Kunle affirmed with a nod and adjusted his “Support our ministry” tee to show his seriousness, he went on his knees and lifted his hands.
The deliverance service began.