Visionaries -- A True Tale of Religion and Mystery #7

petermarie (57)in #writing • 6 years ago (edited)

This is the story of an event that happened in a catholic school in Nigeria, events which I witnessed and was a part of, and which have never been resolved till date. Names have been changed, but the tale is true, and told as I remember it.

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Part 1
Part 2
Part 3
Part 4
Part 5
Part 6

9:30am

It was labour time. That, of course, meant more work for me and my partner while the rest of our classmates lounged around. Not that we were complaining –that’s just how the system worked. Everyone had his own responsibility to shoulder. Labour was my special responsibility, usually assisted by the senior prefects. There were gutters to wash, grasses to cut, halls to mop, grasses to cut, classrooms to clean thoroughly, and more grasses to cut. Immediately after breakfast, we had set about assigning the rest of the students a special task. Once that was done and Benedict confirmed there weren’t any dirty area we were missing, we resumed patrol, as we had done during the period for morning duty.

As I walked about, calling out instructions and making sure no one was slacking, I kept thinking about the visionaries. I wished I could be as blasé as Theo about the whole thing, but I couldn’t. I was a firm believer in purpose, always had been, and I felt I had a duty to perform with the information I had been given. I’d never been one to sit and watch as things played out, not when I could have something to contribute to it. And with these visions, I was in a precarious situation. I knew that sooner or later, Igwe would come to me. We had had too much discussions about spiritual matters for him not to. And frankly, I couldn’t put off talking to him about this any longer. I’d said I needed more information. As it was, there was only one source I hadn’t tapped yet. Igwe himself.

I waited until the two hours allotted for labour was almost over, when most persons were already done with their tasks, and were just waiting for the bell to ring. I knew where Igwe was working, of course. I had assigned him to it. He was one of five cutting down the grass of the Fathers’ orchard, which was directly in front of the Fathers’ house.

I let my patrol take me there. They were done, as I knew they would be. Truth was, that day’s labour wasn’t very serious. If it was, only two persons would have been assigned there. I stopped and inspected the orchard. It wasn’t perfect, but it would do.

At that point, the bell began to toll. There were sounds of celebration throughout the school’s premises as boys left their places of labour and hurried to the dormitories to drop their equipment and pick up their sporting gear. As I had predicted, Miko had announced a free day during breakfast. It would be sports till 6:15pm.

My work wasn’t done –I still had to patrol once more to ensure all jobs were done to satisfaction, but I fell into step beside Igwe as he headed down the road.

“Going to dorm?” I asked him.

“No,” he replied. “I need to get something in class, then I might be heading to Chapel.”

I nodded. It was exactly the kind of response I expected him to give. Not that he was a bookworm, but since he had been asked to repeat his current class, he had been spending more and more time in his books. And of course, he was still as spiritual as ever. The junior classroom block was only separated from the Fathers’ Orchard by the lawn tennis court. Soon we were climbing the Y-shaped staircase in front of it to the J.S.3 class on the upper floor.

“So,” I began, choosing my words carefully but speaking casually. “I heard about the visions.”

“Hmm,” he replied. “That. Please don’t ask me how... I’m as shocked as everyone else.”

He didn’t look shocked, though. He didn’t look any different from how he did when we discussed anything else, like having people see visions around you was something that happened everyday. None of Augustine’s excitement was here. There was no awe, no smug look of superiority. As I studied his face, I realised it was the look of someone who had long accepted he would see such things in his life –someone with tremendous faith. Or he was just hiding his thoughts very well.

“I can imagine,” I said, musing. And I could. Persons who experienced these things never knew why they did, or how.

“It just shows how God works,” he told me. “Those who thought they would see didn’t see anything. The people He chooses are those who others think are trash, people like Sho-sho. Can you believe it? The boy who everyone calls the dirtiest was the first to see. The stone which the builders rejected has become the cornerstone.”

I almost smiled. It was typical Igwe –quoting bible verses. Then something he said registered. “So not everyone could see?” I asked.

He shook his head. “No, and I don’t know why either. But you know how these things are –it’s not for everyone. Some even thought the boy was faking it at first. It was when others started seeing they began to believe. I don’t blame them anyway. When it started, I was shocked too. I saw the boy crying and was trying to console him, so I showed him the picture, told him to look at it and imagine she was here with him and was speaking to him, and that he could tell her everything that was bothering him. I never believed it would work, to talk less of him actually seeing her. It was incredible.”

Right. The miraculous picture everyone was talking about.

“So it was all because of the picture?” I ask. “Can I see it?”

“Sure,” he replied. And he reached into the back pocket of his trousers and brought it out.