The morning after (Short Story)
The alarm went off at 6 am. It was time for morning devotion but today Tito really wanted to tell God, “can I take a rain check? My spirit is willing but my eyes are weak”. As she excogitated the idea to get out of bed, Tito heard the legendary aladura bell her mother brought from one of the many prayer houses she frequents- ring in a rhythmic pattern to a song she knew too well.
“ Kom, ko, ko, ko
Good morning Jesus, good morning Lord.
I know you came from heaven above…”
“ …Every time I see another breaking of the day,
I say thank you, Lord”.
“Chai, God. Why did you choose to be on my mother’s side this morning?” she questioned beneath her morning breath as she opened her mouth to release a loud yawn. She rolled towards her dressing table which was next to the tip of her bed, picked up her phone to check for the time, hoping the led light from her phone would awaken her- It was 3 mins past 6
Out of sheer surrender, Tito sluggishly grabbed her portable New Living Translation Bible and the devotional book which she had placed by her head-rest while dawdling towards the sound of the bell. It was her duty to read family devotion every morning. Years before, her mother, Iya Tito as she was fondly called realized all the children of her household slept during devotions. In worse cases, they even had the audacity to snore while she, like the wailing Prophet, prayed; sang hymns, read, and explained the devotional for each day, all to ensure her children made it to at least- heavens gate. Out of frustration, she distributed the task of leading worship, reading the devotion, and praying to her three kids. In her words.
“I cannot serve my parents and serve my children too. God forbid!”
All the kids had been judicious to their task and it never changed- until this morning.
The prayer which was normally to last for a maximum of 15 minutes, if everyone kept to their allotted time seemed to be taking longer. Tito couldn’t seem to understand why she was saying way too many ‘Amens’ than normal.
She finally opened her drowsy eyes in a bid to gesture with both her index fingers moving in circles as a message to the prayer leader: “round up. We don’t have all day”.
Then reality hit her in a flash. It really happened.
Her brother, Subomi, who was the prayer leader during morning devotions and also her partner in crime- prior, they both had signed a pact for him to make the prayers short for them to enjoy 30 extra minutes of sleep/ exercise time before they get on with the day. That brother of hers… Died.
She looked over to where the prayer was emanating from. It was Iya Tito who at this point did not look like she had just lost her only son to cerebral malaria.
“…In tha Miiiighty name of Jesus we pra…”.
“Noooo!”. Tito wailed. It was her first time of fully grieving Subomi’s demise.
