Dial - Season 1 - Episode 62

4 years ago

Dial - Season 1 - Episode 62

***
He turned out to be a most imposing-looking man.

He was huge, built like a bulldog. The man of God was completely bald, with a barrel-chested appearance and a pugnacious chin that reminded me of one of those WWE wrestlers.

Wearing a free-flowing African agbada dress, which gave him extra width, he was a most imposing man indeed.

He was already having a Miracle Hour programme inside his gigantic and well-designed church auditorium. I was aware that the programme aired on some of the television stations every Sunday morning, and so I wasn’t surprised to see television cameras inside the auditorium.

I was however uncomfortable because I didn’t want to be made a spectacle on television. The programme, from the little internet research I had done on my phone whilst waiting, was a popular one in the country, watched by millions.

One of his assistants came to call me, and then he took me inside the church auditorium.
“You’re aware, Mr. Biko, that as soon as you’re healed of all infirmities you would have to make a generous offer to the Lord, don’t you?” the assistant asked with a little gleam in his eyes. “Your case is a special one, and mostly we take special advances to intensify heavenly prayers, but the Prophet says we shouldn’t take anything from you yet. He wants you to get well first, and then afterwards, out of your own volition, you would contribute something towards the kingdom business of the Lord!”

“It’s not a problem, man of God,” I said without much interest. “If he does this for me, money will be the least of your thanks.”
He smiled broadly and walked with new swagger in his steps.

“Certainly, Mr. Biko,” he said. “God bless you, Mr. Biko. Come this way, come this way!”

And then, bang, I was in the gigantic podium filled with thousands of people, and then cameras were swinging at me.

I was completely disoriented. I had thought they would send me into a smaller room to meet the man of God. It was a shock to realize that the door I had been shown through led straight to the preaching podium of Doctor Prophet Ekow Dadzie.

He was sweating as he preached, and he wiped his face with a huge face towel. He was passionate and vociferous, whipping the congregation up into a frenzy of volcanic spiritual explosions.

“Halleluuuuuuuuujah!” the man of God screamed.

“Aaaaaaaaaaamen, aaaaaaaaamen!” came the thousands of voices in the auditorium.

I hesitated, acutely uncomfortable and terribly exposed. I licked my lips and turned toward the door I had come through, but the man of God screamed behind me.

“Mr. Yaw Biko, Mr. Yaw Biko! Come here! Don’t be ashamed of the Lord, and the Lord will not be ashamed of you! I have been waiting! The Devil is a liar! You shall reclaim your lost glory today! And someone give me an aaaamen!”

“Aaaaaaaaaamen!” the many voices screamed.
He came toward me.

I was not a midget myself; I was six-foot two, and well-built, standing head and shoulders over a man, but this giant was a full head taller than I was, with a frame so massive that he made me feel like a midget.
He draped an arm around my neck.
“Please, I don’t want to be recorded for television please!” I said desperately to him.
He smiled and thumped me in the back.
“If you reject the Lord today, He will also reject you, Mr. Biko!” he said into his microphone, his voice heard all over the gigantic and well-lit auditorium. “What will you like, Mr. Biko? To be healed by spending a little time on television, or to go on suffering?”

Well, put like that, I had no option, really.
I nodded sadly.

“Please, let’s do this,” I said.
“Halleluuuuuuuuujah!” he screamed, and then he whipped the hat off my head and before I could react he knocked my sunglasses off too!

There was a collective gasp from the congregation as my white hair, eyebrows, eyelashes, moustache and half-beard came into view!

The television cameras zoomed in to get full capture of my face.