Salvation Colony

Chapter Thirty

179 Salvation Colony: Sequel to No Way to Die Chapter Thirty Cosmas Mfetebeunu T he state of medical practice in the country helped make him a divine healer. The medical school graduated at least 50 general practitioners every year. Except for a handful who proceeded for specialization courses thereafter in Britain, America, Kenya and Nigeria, the lot of them who occupied the offices of chief medical officers, delegates of health, or opened clinics, built mansions and rode expensive cars, were no better than staff nurses by British and American medical standards where the health of citizens is taken seriously. Though admission was supposed to be based on academic performance at the entrance examination, the entire examination exercise was widely known to be a mere formality. The list of candidates sent in by highly placed government officials and businessmen was usually so long that it was usually unnecessary to consult the list made up of those who had actually passed the exam. Attention was focused mainly on so-called “pressure cases.” The result was that such “native doctors” (as they were disparagingly called) generally gambled over the most eliminatory cases. And so, with prayer in the forefront, Sixtus passed for a miracle worker. He would visit a patient with a bad case and quickly diagnose the sickness, during his evangelising visits to the hospital. He would then send somebody to cause the patient to be brought before him. When that was done, knowing full well what the problem 180 Linus T. Asong was, and knowing full well how the patient would be treated, he would cause those present to sing the miracle-working song: “Prayer is the Key, prayer is the key, prayer is the master key. Jesus started with prayers and ended with prayers, prayer is the master key.” Invariably, the patient became a convert after treatment. Thus did it turn out that many of his ardent supporters were people who owed their lives to him, and his God, of course. These were secrets that but for our painstaking investigations, would never have been known by anybody but Shrapnell himself, alone. Mr. Dennis had never regretted working with Shrapnell. He had embraced his teaching and ideas with his whole heart. He had come to him friendless, wifeless, homeless. And Shrapnell had given even more than he had expected to find. His present happiness and calmness of mind was no figment of the imagination. It was a stark reality which everybody could see. All the brethren were of the same disposition. They took him for what they knew, a man of God. When, therefore we mentioned the case of the reverend sister, Mr. Denis found it hard to believe. “Are you saying that is what might have happened to that Sister?” he inquired. “That is what happened. There is ample proof.” Mr. Dennis squeezed his lower lip and blinked copiously, nervously. “It was when his license was withdrawn that he became a preacher.” Mr. Dennis smiled a bit. “Listen to this too. There is no such organization as American Council of Churches for Africa which was said to be the major sponsor of ALCA in general and the Salvation Colony in particular.” “How then does he have the money to do all this?” 181 Salvation Colony: Sequel to No Way to Die “Which brings me to the next point. Reverend Shrapnell is a counterfeiter of the first water. He has in this colony a counterfeiting machine. Do you know that there is a part of Shrapnell’s apartment called “The Holy of Holies?” Mr. Dennis smiled but said nothing. “In the People’s Bank at Menako,” I went on, “he has struck a deal with the cashier of Counter Three, one Christophersin Ezubura. Under those terms, Ezubura accepts the false currency and deposits genuine money into account No. MN/001112234. From this account he withdraws his millions in the name of the nonexistent ACCA.” Mr. Dennis’ blood seemed to freeze as if he had been dipped into ice-cold water. It was as though he was dreaming, and for a while he thought I had taken leave of my senses. Was ALCA an organization to promote heinous crimes? he must have wondered. Like a hen bathing in saw dust he shook his head briskly and closed and opened his eyes to find it a dream. No, it was a stark reality. Still bent on disbelieving the allegation, Mr. Dennis...