Salvation Colony

Chapter Five

23 Salvation Colony: Sequel to No Way to Die Chapter Five Dennis Nunqam Ndendemajem I T was nearly five o’clock in the morning when the taxi carrying me arrived Azilut Esso. The driver halted in front of a church and asked “Is this the one?” It was enough that there was a church, I thought. He looked through the window just for formality and said: “I think it is the place. I have not been there before.” I was in greater pain now that I had been sitting squeezed in the small car. The driver climbed down and walked round to help me get off. The church Pa Matty called Aka was in fact A.L.C.A., an abbreviation for the Angels of Limbo Church of Africa. There was a large signboard by the side of the road to explain it. Slowly I mounted the four steps that led up to the ALCA grounds. The church building was an oblong sun-dried brick structure the size of an average tennis court. The roof was very high, so designed certainly, to reduce the intensity of heat during the dry seasons. The walls looked freshly painted with whitewash, even in the darkness. The entire compound was surrounded by a hibiscus hedge that stood about ten metres from the building. I discovered belatedly that to the left of the entrance there was a drive way into the premises up which a car, bicycle or motorcycle could drive easily. Near the gable end to the back a passage led from a door to a smaller attachment. I walked slowly but apprehensively to the back towards the right, came back to the front and 24 Linus T. Asong walked to the back again towards the left. A bush lamp shone on a rope from the roof of the veranda of the small house. I was just about to turn back when a voice shouted from a barricaded store to the back of the attachment. “Who that? You be tifman? Go underwise I shoot!” “Morning, sir,” I greeted politely. The night watchman emerged from the storeroom, spear in hand and came nearer to where I was standing. An albino night watchman, I said to himself. I had never seen one. “Who be you?” the man asked. “Dennis Nunqam Ndendemajem,” I answered. “You want what?” the albino asked fiercely. This stranger, he was convinced, must be one of numerous drunkards or thieves he chased off every night. I did not respond at once. I looked round to be sure that we were alone. “I want to see God,” I said rather preposterously. “He hask you for come for night?” the albino asked. I am sure he now took me for a drunkard. “Yes,” I said. The man smiled, took out his snuff box and drew in a few nailfuls. He was glad he had company, especially as I did not look dangerous or threatening. “You say what?” he asked again. I repeated gravely. “God or Our Father?” the man inquired. “Yes,” I said dubiously. Then you must wet unti nan aclock,” the albino said. “What happens at nine?” I inquired “Our Father comes.” I reflected. We must be talking at cross-purposes, I thought. “He comes from where?” I asked. 25 Salvation Colony: Sequel to No Way to Die “From Corony, na.” It was at this point that I realised that the man was referring not to God himself but to a real person, the man I would be introduced to as the Reverend Pastor Sixtus Shrapnel, the founder of ALCA who lived in a place called Salvation Colony at Gemnhenna. He visited his three churches in the Menako region and held services in turns, going to a different one each Sunday. “Why would they call him Our Father, why would they call him God?” I asked. “Is his name, is his good work,” the man explained. “He make the blind to see, the lame to work, the hungry to have food, the deaf to hear, the dumb to talk,” the man recited to me. I say “recited” because he was more fluent when talking about the pastor than when talking about any other subject. I was sure he had been trained to say that about the Pastor. “He is the God of Menako,” the man continued. “Between Our Father and God, no difference.” I put my hands over my face and could...