Steeming Community Contest | "Your Story" 120$ Total Worth of Booming Upvote + 10 Steem Worth of Consolation Prizes by @ dayographix

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Base on the Above image am going to tell a True Life Story and i also want to use this opportunity to thank @fabio2614 for this Great Contest.

Looking back in my early days, I’m convinced l had turned into a better specie of a young man. As a child, as big as my ears was, i seldomly hear a word with them. I had to admit it, my ears were as big as “Mpote ede” which when loosely translated will mean Cocoa yam leaf but even at that nothing that goes in there stays there permanently.

Even though I have what might pass as an innocent face, you will be shocked upon lifting my veil how troublesome I can be. My siblings understands me and they give me my space but that doesn't deny the fact that we are still family. Notwithstanding my big statelight size of an ear, my mum will always tell me “Dayo jide nti gi aka”(Dayo hold your ear) whenever i’m leaving the house without any chaperone.

She will be like “Ma anwakwana anwa nu na isi na ina uno a puo, jee choo mmadu okwu, amakwa m onye ibu, nkwusia kita, osina nti nka baa osi na nke ozo puo”(Let me not hear that you looked for trouble when you go out).
My parents allowed me to join altar servers at Our Lady of Lourds Catholic Church Maryland Enugu State as a boy when I told them of my intention to be a priest when I grow up but deep down my true intention was to skip mum cooking tutorial because i can't afford being sent around.

Upon my joining the altar servers or mass servants if you may, i was placed on probation for the fact that I was yet to receive my first holy communion. I was attending my catechism classes while I still turn up for altar servers activities. We will always gather after morning mass every Saturday to wash Priests and altar servers vestments with other sacramental. I could still remember them teaching me A.K.A which is an acronym for Altar Knights Association of which whenever they shout A.K.A we respond in our high pitch tiny first part soprano voices “for God’s service”.

There was this guy Nnamdi by name who is always everywhere. He usually exhibits this offensive attitude called “notice me”. He will want to show off that he is the best out of everyone, he will want to be the cross bearer in every mass and also like picking a set of persons he wants to serve mass with. Some of our members even use to fear him.

I already said in my mind that i will stop all his nonsense when I become a full member. I was not scared by him, I was only waiting for the right time to put him in his place. On a particular Saturday morning after I had my normal routine of “holding my ear” for advice from mum, I went for the Saturday altar servers cleaning. We started washing the vestments amidst chats and jokes. Someone made a joke at Nnamdi and we all started laughing at him. My laugh was locomotive and extra-ordinary to the extent other people stopped and i didn’t know. When my senses came back, i saw him looking at me smiling and I stopped.

One of us after peeling the lemon used in washing sacramentals shouted that someone should go to the sacristi and get the Chalice, communion plate, ciborium etc for washing. I picked race and started running towards the sacristi. Nnamdi joined me too and playfully knocked my head as he overtook me. This boy plays too much, i said to myself as i joined the fun and increased my pace.

Getting to the Sacristi, Nnamdi instead of packing out what we came to pick, opened one sealed host(unconsecrated) nylon meant for communion. He ate it smiled, turned and asked me if I wanted. I really wanted it but as a good child I exercised my right of first refusal and said no waiting for him to ask me for the second time so I can say yes. He didn’t ask me again, he only poured out the wine from the half used unconsecrated wine and drank. Instead of me to rebuke him, i allowed lucifer to use me in asking him if the wine is sweet.

This time around he asked me if I wanted some and I nodded in affirmation. Being so young and naive, I didn’t believe I was doing something wrong. I felt it was ok since its not consecrated host and wine that I was about taking. I took a slice of it and it was so sweet. I couldn’t resist the urge to stop taking.

When Nnamdi saw I was already into it, he told me he is coming back that he wants to go and lock the door so father won’t catch us. I drew an available plastic chair close by and sat down properly and started eating the host as if it was a pack of cheese ball my mum gave me. The igbo adage that says “onwu na egbu nwa nkita anaro ekwe ya anu isi nsi”( That which will kill a dog, does not allow it to perceive the smell of faeces) was applicable to me at the time.

I was not mindful of the fact that Nnamdi had taken more time for someone that went to lock the door, nevertheless, I packed a handful of the host into my mouth. It was plenty and was almost choking me.

Again, for the second time, I didn’t object to the devil using me, infact I allowed him to use me as his instrument after convincing myself that sollute ought to go with solvent. I poured a little quantity of wine, did the sign of the cross and was about gulping it down when I heard Nnamdi’s voice shouting “Father see him here”.

I was backing them like a priest celebrating the holy mass in accordance with Vatican council one. I didn’t know if I should greet Father good morning or otito diri jesus. Well, Fr beat me to it by shouting AKA from the distance where he was. With a mouth full of hosts I couldn’t respond “for God’s service” for fear of the Holy spirit heavily descending on me. It was obvious Nnamdi dealt with me even before I got a chance.Father sarcastically remarked "The priest will celebrate the mass, you will be the one eating "achicha na mmanya".

Fr asked Nnamdi to pack the Chalice and co for washing and asked me to follow him to the Father’s house. I was given a seat at the Father’s dinning and the cook served me rice, fish and Goldspot, while Father was sitting opposite me eating his portion of food. I was looking like a man presented with his last super. How on earth does Father want that food to digest when the last batch of host i took was still hanging on my throat.

To make matters worst, father knows my parents and house because he manages our school which is housed by the parish. My thought was that the priest wanted to feed me well so I will add small flesh before he can tighten my kneaker for some strokes of cane in my bum bum.I didn’t think twice before bolting from the dining table with the intention of running away from the Father’ s house. Unfornately the cook captured me like a chicken used for thanksgiving trying to escape custody.

Upon my being caught, Fr kept laughing at me and urged me to eat my food that nothing will happen to me. I didn’t believe him but I nevertheless swallowed my food in bits.Father drove me to the house to see my parents. In our neighbourhood, the people that knew him were hailing him “ Father Father Father”.

Getting to our door, father bent down and asked me “Dayo "ijugo ekwensu, otito na nlafu ya nine”(Dayo, have you denounced satan). Instead of answering him ajugo m ya, I started crying. My mum opened the door to meet us.

I want to use this opportunity to thank all the mum out there because they are the real MVP and i also want to thank @fabio2614 and @steemit for this Great Contest.

Am also inviting my steemit friends @alphafx, @awesomenonso, @noskiart, @beckie96830, @circwall, @davosimple, @beckie96830, @spyrex, @stitches11, @Ezege11, @rexdevex, @sonia440, @whitestallion , @alphafx , @awesononoso , @nellymartunez , @chezandras