SprinNG
  • Publications
    • Anthologies >
      • ETB Anthology
      • AEAnthology
      • WAD Anthology
      • CBS Anthology
      • 2020 Why I Write
      • 2019 Why I Write
    • Interviews
    • Book Reviews
  • Submit
    • Submit to Us
    • Nigerian Writers Database
  • Fellowship
    • Writing Fellowship
    • Advancement Fellowship
  • Contests
    • Monthly Bookstore Gift-card
    • Annual Poetry Contest
    • SWAP >
      • SWAP 2022 Winners
      • SWAP 2021 Winner
      • SWAP 2020 Winner
  • SprinNG Lit
  • Services
    • Resume/CV Editing Services
    • Cover Letter Editing
    • Bio/Personal Statement Editing
  • Donate
  • About
    • Annual Report
    • Quicklinks

NIGHT VIGILS

1/2/2023

9 Comments

 
By Okam Augustine
Picture
Sister Uche loves church "a little too much," Mama always said, so the day she wasn't home by 9:00 pm, way past our dad-enforced curfew, Mama made it known she was way into church, a "deputy Jesus" she called her. But Sister Uche was not always like that, at least not before the two Jehovah's Witnesses showed up in front of our black gate and claimed Sister Uche had a special assignment from God, that she had an "abundance of spirit."

One of the two Jehovah's Witnesses, the one with the green and black umbrella that complimented the other's red umbrella - an unintentional parade of the Biafran flag - and a black leather bankish briefcase. She nodded her head slowly as the other one delivered the message from God with a charity smile as if she had discussed Sister Uche with God and was, only then, aware and pleased with God's final decision. Sister Uche laughed after they left that day, and so did Mama and De Nnachi and I, but the following Sunday, she left the house before Sunday rice was cooked and returned with her own umbrella and bankish briefcase.

With a pillow propping behind her head, Mama was lying on the mattress that was dragged from the storeroom into the sitting room for my uncle, De Nnachi, to sleep on. She kept shaking her right leg like she was warming it up for a race, an act I suspected was involuntary, ticking off all of the times Sister Uche had disobeyed her from a list inside her head.   
"Where did you say she went to?" My father asked Mama for the hundredth time since he returned with her in the same car three hours ago. Mama stared admonishingly at him, and I wanted to tell him to shut up because that was usually the point where Mama would ask him if he expected her to lie to him or if he thought the information suddenly flew into her head at the last minute. My father would say something about how it was Mama's fault and how she was her daughter. Mama said nothing, and I felt proud of her, like I had raised her right. My father said nothing for a long time. Instead, the wrinkles on his forehead deepened. By 11:50 pm, the wrinkles spread across his entire face into Mama's face, and at that moment, I believed what Aunty Jane said about couples who have lived together for years resembling each other.
 
My father had exhausted the list of people to call, and Mama had exhausted the energy in her right leg, and the leg was now still. He has called everyone that might know Sister Uche's whereabouts, from Mama Ebuka, the mother of Adanne, Sister Uche's former best friend, who she said now reeked of sin because she wears trousers and refused to leave her "not-the-right gospel church," to Aunty Jane who we never visit.

Sister Uche marched in by 1:30 am when the Nightguards must have been on their third rotation. When she knocked on the gate, relief washed over Mama's face, but she remained still, defiant. "Nobody should stand up. She should go back to wherever it is she is coming from." The sitting room grew quiet apart from Sister Uche's consistent knocking. Finally, my father stood slowly, not saying a word, ignoring Mama's threatening stares, and opened the gate for Sister Uche.

Sister Uche entered the sitting room, saying nothing and looking everyone in the eyes, even Mama. She didn't look a teeny tiny bit scared.

"Good evening Mama. Good evening sir," she said like she was seeing them after waking up in the morning. I wanted to remind her that it was 1:00 am already and technically the next day, so it should be Good morning, not Good evening. Not like anything good will happen anytime soon. Nobody said anything to her. She stood there for what couldn't have been more than 20 seconds and then turned to leave.

"Gbọ, where are you coming from?" My father asked her, a mixture of anger and relief in his voice. Sister Uche did not move a muscle. "Where are you coming from ọsịsọ? Ị kpụrụ ịsị? Are you blind? Don't you know what time it is now? Are you stupid?" My father was shouting. My father never shouts.

Sister Uche said nothing. She really can take being questioned. She will make a good CIA secret agent. I would be crying by now.

"I am coming from Night vigil," she said finally, casually, as if that was a very good reason, the only reason needed to go out by 4:00 pm on a Tuesday and come back by 1:30 am the next day.

It happened fast. One second, Mama was watching something on the television, pressing her phone, not part of whatever was happening; then, in the same second, her phone bounced off Sister Uche's face to the tiled floor. Sister Uche crotched down immediately, a second too late. They don't teach good reflexes at Night vigils.

​Mama was looking at Sister Uche, and I swear, if you weren't there, didn't see her throw her new Samsung phone at Sister Uche, you wouldn't believe she was the cause of her bloody broken lips. Sister Uche stood up heroically, not wiping the blood from her lips, allowing the blood to form a thin red line between her lips, and looked, without blinking or any other sign of fear, directly into Mama's eyes, and I knew we'd lost her.
Picture
Writer's Biography

Okam Augustine is twenty-one and spends his time reading fiction and medicine. He writes because he loves to and wants to write stories he would enjoy reading.
9 Comments
Akinsole oluwadamilare
1/2/2023 01:39:53 pm

This is a beautiful story of a temperal setting event. The discussion of how an encounter with a new set of individuals with different doctrines and persuasive ideology convinced 'sister uche' into a new person 'deputy Jesus'.
Frankly, her parent were pushed to the wall. They weren't angry at her new engagement but her ignorance of her relevance in her parents jurisdiction. This is titular to what most of us have become in Nigeria. It is only right when we don't try to be sent, but knowing deep down we are not.

I really appreciate okam Augustine for writing this relative work. The diction and character description is just so apt. Kudos to okam.

Reply
Onwuka Dabeluchukwu
11/2/2023 09:10:01 am

A very relatable piece. Detailed and concise, interesting to the last sentence. Was and still waiting for a twist in the tale. The end leaves me asking, what really happened? was it just a night vigil? What next?
Thank you so much Augustine.

Reply
Rahma
11/2/2023 09:16:15 am

I was drawn in from the beginning till the end, I admire that always when I read a piece.
It is expected that Sister Uche was misunderstood in her family, that's the way it is when a person has a goal or a dream and it feels like everyone else is working against them.
But the family was also valid for their show of concern. She could have found a common ground of understanding as to when she would be coming back home.
This was a fantastic piece honestly, I really loved it.

Reply
Abosede Adediran
11/2/2023 06:22:59 pm

I really love how you used your words, they really provoked my imaginations. My interest was sustained till I reached the very end.

Reply
Favour Jackson
11/2/2023 09:40:08 pm

Waw.....
It was as though I was in the living room...like I was there and I looked at everybody's facial expressions, body movements and all.
Too bad it's a short story..too good for a short story... would really love to know how sister Uche reacted, responded, etc.. Guess I'd create the rest in my imaginations

Reply
Favour Enwu
15/2/2023 11:35:38 am

This is a really good story. It's really captivating and funny at the same time.

Reply
Ugochukwu Anadị
18/2/2023 04:24:08 am

“Night Vigils” presents the alienation from family and friends an encounter and assimilation of an ideology (or faith) different from one someone had held before can bring. In the story, we see Sister Uche, the major character, who has been won over by a Church denomination, in a kind of a cold war with her family and friends–a war that would go a little physical at the end of the story. What is not said but what is implied in the story is that while Sister Uche's family now view her as disrespectful and lost, she in turn views herself as persecuted for her love of God. She has taken the poise of martyrs and is ready to become one.

Okam Augustine pulled off a modest effort at making this story readable. It could have been better though. The colouring of the umbrellas the preachers came with in such a way to be able to compare it to the Biafran flag does not in any way help the story. One therefore wonders why it is there and what it is doing there. It is also never clear whether Sister Uche never had a phone. It's reasonable to say that it was called but it wasn't reachable. A complete silence on it though suffers the believability of the story. And while the author attempts the incision of humour into the story, I have my reservations as to how successfully that was done.

Reply
Abubakar Maimuna Esther
23/2/2023 12:37:16 pm

Hmm! I reason with your point of view especially on how night vigils can be interpreted as an alienation from one's family. Because, truly when we accept something foreign from what we're used/known for, we become foreign to people who knew us prior to that.

Reply
Abubakar Maimuna Esther
23/2/2023 12:28:22 pm

Am I the only one, who really want to know where/ what sis Uche was truly up to? Lol!
My reading wasn't a smooth one, I felt disconnected when the mood bounce from a lantern lit room to television background noise, phone throwing mood(setting). I was like, how did mama get here?
But I appreciate the message! Nothing should be taken for granted. Sis Uche went from laughing at the men to becoming one of them and no one suspected that at their first meeting, a seed was sown already.
And look at the parent approach of solving the issue? I think most African parents would fall into this category. We see something is wrong and we look for more ways to make it complicated.
I also appreciate the humor! I think if the story wasn't rushed it would've come out more explained.
More writing grace Augustine! Will love to read more of your works. I like your concept of showing things.
Happy Election week people 💖
Love and light, always!

Reply



Leave a Reply.

    The SprinNG 2023 Brochure

    SprinNG Quicklinks
    About SprinNG
    Contests
    Anthologies
    Interviews
    Book Reviews
    Nigerian Writers Database
    Recommended Literary Sites
    Writers Fellowship

      Subscribe to SprinNG Newsletters
    Subscribe

    For inquiries regarding publications email: 
    contact@SprinNG.org 
    ​and we will respond to you within 48hrs.
CLICK TO DOWNLOAD THE SPRINNG 2023 BROCHURE

Copyright @SprinNG 2023
​

  • Publications
    • Anthologies >
      • ETB Anthology
      • AEAnthology
      • WAD Anthology
      • CBS Anthology
      • 2020 Why I Write
      • 2019 Why I Write
    • Interviews
    • Book Reviews
  • Submit
    • Submit to Us
    • Nigerian Writers Database
  • Fellowship
    • Writing Fellowship
    • Advancement Fellowship
  • Contests
    • Monthly Bookstore Gift-card
    • Annual Poetry Contest
    • SWAP >
      • SWAP 2022 Winners
      • SWAP 2021 Winner
      • SWAP 2020 Winner
  • SprinNG Lit
  • Services
    • Resume/CV Editing Services
    • Cover Letter Editing
    • Bio/Personal Statement Editing
  • Donate
  • About
    • Annual Report
    • Quicklinks