Flipping the coin on the Will of God

Dear God,

Let’s start at the very beginning. My uncle once told me that in the olden days, the gods and oracles were like the ultimate law enforcement—no judge, no jury, just divine decree! And who were their loudspeakers? The priests and native doctors.

But here’s where things got interesting—these priests realized that since only they could “hear” the gods, they could pretty much say whatever they wanted. So, they started issuing “divine messages” that just so happened to make them richer, more powerful, and more feared than even the gods themselves!

“Does this ring a bell, my Lord?” (its not me that said it oo!)

Naturally, when the missionaries arrived with a new and improved God—one that talked about fairness, justice, and not randomly smiting people—the people listened. (That should be you, right? Hmm, you are not rolling your eyes!) After all, who wouldn’t prefer a god that promised redemption over one whose priests could fine you, curse you, or turn you into a goat just because they were in a bad mood?

But my Lord, there was a flip, and to illustrate that flip, I will tell you a story……

A long time ago, in the vast lands of Africa, where the rivers sang and the trees whispered secrets to the wind, lived a young boy named Afam. Afam loved listening to his grandfather’s stories, especially the ones about how their village came to be the way it was.

One evening, as the fire crackled and the elders gathered, Afam asked, “Grandfather, what is the real meaning of my name?

“Your name is Afamefuna”, the grandfather responded smiling. “It means, my name will not be lost”. It was important for us that we preserve our legacy and keep it from extinction especially in the threat of the new way of life”.

“What do you mean, Grandfather? Was our existence threatened in anyway?”

“You can say that my child…. in a way, we had things we didn’t know existed, but we were in danger of losing the ones we knew existed”, the grandfather said reflectively.

Like the churches, schools, and hospitals… but also people who wanted to take over our land?”, the boy asked raising his brows

Grandfather chuckled, rubbing his beard. “Ah, Afam, that is a story of the “civilization” that took away civilization. “The good that flipped as the Talking Drum called it!”

Afam’s eyes widened. “The Talking Drum?”

“Yes,” Grandfather nodded. “The drum always tells the truth. But some people did not want to hear it.”

A long time ago, a group of people called missionaries came from across the great waters. They brought books, medicines, and a new way of worship. They said they wanted to teach, heal, and help.

“But that sounds good!” Afam said.

“Ah, my boy,” Grandfather sighed, “the river that gives water can also flood the land.” “Many missionaries were kind. They built schools where children learned to read and hospitals where the sick were treated. They told stories about a god named Jesus, who loved everyone”. “But then the Talking Drum started to warn the people”, Grandfather said shaking his head.

“The talking Drum foretold of the beast behind the beauty. It warned of the deception in the handshakes and exchanges of gifts. And cried of the lack of trust in the friendship”. For unknown to the people, behind the missionaries, ships full of traders and soldiers followed. The traders did not come to teach or heal. They came to take—gold, spices, and even people. And the soldiers? They came to make sure no one said ‘no’ to the traders.

The missionaries, though they meant well, often worked side by side with these traders and soldiers. They didn’t always see the harm being done because they believed they were bringing “civilization.”

“But we already had civilization!” Afam protested.

“Exactly!” Grandfather said. “We had kings, queens, healers, and wise elders. We had our own gods and their priests. But the missionaries came with the philosophy that if something was different from their way, it was wrong. And that, my boy, is where the flip began.”

The missionaries did not integrate their good with our good. No, their intent was to change. They did not like the way Africans dressed, danced, or worshipped our gods. They called our gods “idols” and our festivals “superstitions.” They told our people to stop drumming, stop calling on the spirits of our ancestors, and stop wearing our traditional clothes.

“They said, ‘Throw away your talking drum and take this bell instead!’” Grandfather mimicked, making Afam giggle.

“You see, without our talking drum, the people could not call for help when danger came. They could not disseminate the truth far and wide and share information. Without their festivals, they forgot their stories. Without their gods, they lost their strength and identity”.

“And that, my boy, made it easy for the traders and the soldiers to take over the land”.

“But isn’t that being evil in the name of good?”, the boy wondered

“Well, that is the “Flip” my boy. Though not all missionaries were bad”, Grandpa continued. Some stood up against the slave traders and spoke out against injustice. But many did not realize that while they were teaching people to read the Bible, the traders were reading maps and marking which land to take. They were discovering lands that our ancestors had discovered already. “The missionaries opened the door to the “Will of God”, and the traders walked right in,” Grandfather concluded.

Afam was quiet for a moment. Then he asked, “Grandfather, if they took so much from us, why do we still have their churches, their God and their schools today?”

Grandfather smiled. “Because Afam, a wise man once said, ‘Even the darkest cloud can bring rain.’ We took the good part—the God, the learning, the medicine—but we must never forget who we are.”

Afam nodded. “And we must never stop listening to the Talking Drum.”

“Exactly,” Grandfather said, tapping his cane. “For the drum tells the truth… if we are wise enough to hear it.”

And as the fire crackled and the stars twinkled, the Talking Drum beat once more—this time, to remind the people never to let anyone steal their stories again.

Now, Dad, I coined that story to make a point…. When is your Will really your Will? It was your Will to have these missionaries spread this great news about you, I agree, however, did you add the soldiers and traders as a top up? Was that part of the Will?

How can people who carry the bible in one hand still carry a gun in the other to do your Will? And today despite it all, we have not recovered from the brutal effect of the Bible and the gun. (I should write a book on that – The Bible and The Gun!)

Because when the missionaries left, they left indoctrinated Africans who are so willing to do “Your Will”. They left priests and middlemen who still manipulate your Will to their will just like in the olden days.

To cope and accept the menace and manipulative tendencies, the natives’ doctors and priests will tell the people that whatever happened to them was “the will of the gods/oracle”. To date, we are still using those manipulative tendencies to make people complacent and accept injustice as “the Will of God”. If someone is murdered, find the murderer and punish him Wella. It is not the “Will of God” that anyone will die in cold blood. It will deter others and give the victim’s family closure. Simple. Have you observed that, “The Will of God” is always for the poor because some how, the rich kind of find a way to make “God do their Will”. You know what I mean, right?

I love to do your Will, Lord. I will do your will. But trust me, I am searching, and I am asking questions. If they take away the “Talking Drum”, I will be your personal talking drum. God’s Will has to be God’s Will. We need to stop the deceptions already. We need to stop hurting people in the name of God. Africa, please for once, shake off this deception, please rise to the good that you got.

This is your daughter, yes, I am boldly beating this drum, I

am not done, but I am checking in.