Dial - Season 1 - Episode 38

4 years ago

Dial - Season 1 - Episode 38

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©Aaron Ansah-Agyeman
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I think it was around that time, when I had fled from my own car and I was sitting at the back of a taxi, that it dawned on me that I really didn’t have any good friends in the world.

My father had left me a lot of money, and I had increased that money tenfold. I was a wealthy young lad, and I could have any life I could. But I didn’t have friends. My father had not been a trusting man because of what the woman he had loved had done to him, and thus I also grew up not trusting human beings.

There were a few guys at the sports club, the nightclubs and a few other social places, who always came around me, because I was obviously a big spender when it came to some things, but none of them was really a close friend.

It dawned on me then that I was indeed living a pretty lonesome life.

It had never bothered me, no, but that particular morning it did. I had a lot of girls, but they were just bodies to me, objects that I used to slake a thirst, and I didn’t even know half of their names unless I checked from the Dial List or referred to the special folder on my phone labelled ETWES.

The women on the Dial List were the elite, those who gave me tough chases, exhilaration, and women of extreme physical beauties.

Those in my “Etwes” folder were simply girls I could call on for a quick tumble if the need arose. They were the girls I could sleep with for a night, or a weekend if I felt lonely, and who would take some money and melt away to their various lives.

They were the friends with benefits.

And so, as I sat in the back of the taxi and reflected on my life, it dawned on me that I could do with a good friend, someone I could recount what had happened to, someone who would stay with me and share my problems.
But there was no one like that; I was virtually alone, with my riches.

About an hour later the taxi stopped in front of the residence of Apostle Jacob Williams of the Pawa Yesu Fire Ministries.

The pastor was already waiting for me outside. He was of medium height and running to fat, his round belly forming a slight bulge inside the beautiful African print shirt he was wearing.

He had a bald patch from his forehead to the crown of his head, with a thick but nicely-trimmed patch of grey hair surrounding it. The man of God was wearing small gold-rimmed glasses perched precariously on his nose.
He came forward and gave me a long, warm hug.

“You’re in the house of the Lord, Mr. Yao Biko!” he said in a strong, high-pitched voice as he held my upper arms. “No evil, and I mean no evil, can stand against you! Be of good cheer, for the Lord has done it! Come inside, and let’s seek the face of the Lord!”