Africa39 by Wole Soyinka

property and give him the money. The meetings had been held to discuss the matter at hand and to bring him back to his senses. They had yielded nothing and Father Romaro had addressed us in the church, asking those against the selling of their property to return with him to the main church. Only a few people had followed him, while the rest of us had looked at them in sympathy. Sorry for them, that they were returning to the world of sin. That the End of the World would pass them by while we ascended to glory to sit at the right hand of Jesus Christ, our Saviour. We had pitied them. After all, Owa Puroguramu had warned us of the fickle ones who would lose their faith in favour of worldly riches. They had not understood the meaning of separation, of oneness, of humility and sacrifice. Of nothingness in exchange for eternal life.
    Owa Puroguramu called us to Mass after the deserters left and asked us to pray for their damned souls. For the souls of those who had been fooled by Father Romaro. As for him, she declared that he would not live to see the end of the month of July. He would die, his bowels would burst open, and no one would come to his aid as he lay writhing in pain, pleading with the Blessed Mother to forgive him. He would bleed to death because it was already decreed in heaven, and nothing could change that. He was not meant to enter the Year One of the new generation. He would be like Moses who was not allowed to enter Canaan, the Promised Land. Like Judas Iscariot who died in an open field. Father Romaro would die in an open field and grass would grow on his remains. She had asked us to join in cursing Father Romaro and damning him to a painful death.
    Father Romaro had lived beyond the month of July. He still lives.
    These meetings now were different from those held before Father Romaro’s departure. They were more strained and silent. Even Byaruha could not tell me much except that something serious was being discussed. The rest of us kept on praying and fasting as ordered. Even the sick were ordered to fast. They were told that if they did not intensify their prayers, then Sitani would come and steal their souls. We had to recite the scripture: the thief cometh not, but for to steal, and to kill, and to destroy: I am come that they might have life, and that they might have it more abundantly – John 10:10. The sick had to pray harder than everyone else so as not to miss Paradise and to build a shield against the thief.
    After four days of intense praying and fasting between our chores, Owa Puroguramu called us to a special Mass at 4 p.m. We shuffled to the church still sweating from the pineapple fields, banana plantation, cattle sheds and other places where we had been working. The visionaries and apostles were already in the church. While our skin was ashy, the skin of the apostles and visionaries was shining in the light. Their eyes were bright. They were already seated as always on the bench at the front of the church, looking as if they had just left the presence of God. It made us more conscious of our own sinful nature – our inability to commune directly with God. We took our rightful places as the archangels, as the Sunday church guards were known, positioned themselves at the doors and windows. From the way their eyes darted back and forth round the room, it was evident they were conducting a head count.
    After a few prayers and singing, Owa Puroguramu stood up.
    ‘My children,’ she started, ‘there is evil that has infiltrated our Movement and it pains my heart to see us come to this.’
    This time I was sure she was going to point me out as the cause of the sin. It was like I had been waiting for this time to come since the closed meetings started.
    ‘We need to pray harder than before, to get rid of Sitani in our midst. The Blessed Mother is grieved with your lack of belief in her messages. She cries for you the chosen ones. Her back is turned to the world, but to you she beckons you to come