I was in the camp as a brigader a few years back when we met. It had been a tiring day, from chores to road walking, to touring, a brief parade, and a few classes. We had been there for six days, planning to leave in the morning, to our different companies. I was terrible at making friends then, so I hardly knew anyone, but Kuyik who turned out to be the sergeant there.

Suddenly, it started raining heavily, and I was allergic to cold. Hopefully, I had my cardigan wrapped around my waist, so I quickly pulled it off for a proper covering. Sergeant Kuyik was called upon to lead in the session of worship. I had my eyes shut to join them, but instantly heard a scream from somewhere in the hall. Terrified, I opened my eyes. One of the girls was on the floor, rolling back and forth. To my surprise, it was Kuyik.

_{The official uniform}

The officers were on their toes, the training officers throwing up stuff from the first aid box we had, and the commissioner dropped to the floor, crying to God for help. It was rumoured that Christians did not assemble in that part of the town for more than forty-eight hours without losing a life. Since we were already in the one hundred and forty-fourth hour, we didn't expect such to happen.

The Lieutenant ordered all the girls to go on the floor for intercession. We promptly carried out the command, which was now a plea for God to save the girl. Frankly, I couldn’t blink my eyes for minutes, seeing how my friend was struggling for her life with whatever forces had penetrated our space.

_{The Girls}

All I could do was calling on the name of Jesus. Some cried, some were busy confessing their sins, still, some were praying for their loved ones, while others were earnestly and fervently praying for Kuyik. Three, then five, then ten, then fifteen minutes, and the attack was over. One of the officers poured her bottled water on Kuyik for resuscitation.

The commissioner bowed her head in worship to God. The officers sang songs of joy, while the girls screamed for joy. I could see the powerful hand of God at work in that community. That’s when we met (God and I).

_{Brigaders on uniform B}

I went there as a mere brigader, but returned a strong believer in Christ, building an intimate relationship with Him.