The will of God will always Stand

Dear God,

A mentor once said that “until the Lion learns to write and tell its story, every story will glorify the hunter” and I agree. The missionaries did not just teach us how to read and write, they taught us how to read and write their own story.

Please hear me out, Lord………still on this story.

Afam was still thinking about the story of the missionaries while the grandfather poked the fire with his staff.

“Now, my boy, do you remember what happens when someone stops listening to their own drum?”

“They start dancing to another person’s music,” Afam said proudly.

Grandfather grinned. “Exactly! And that is how the missionaries, without even knowing it, helped the traders perpetuate evil with their intended good.”

Afam leaned in, eager for more. He loved these stories.

“The missionaries preached fairness, equality and justice for all, yet their people had a strange way of looking at things, Grandfather said in deep reflection. To them, African traditions were “backward,” theirs were “Civilised”. Our gods were “idols”, theirs were “Angels”. We were “pagan,” they were “Christian” and our names—oh, our beautiful names—were “too difficult to pronounce, so they changed it! Now, the question is, where is the place for the equality, fairness and justice in this?”

“So, what did they do?” Afam asked.

“They baptised and gave people new names,” Grandfather sighed. “A boy named Chukwudi became Charles. A girl named Oluwatoyin became Mary. The very names that carried our ancestors’ blessings were thrown away like old sandals.”

Yes, Grandfather, in school they call me “Christopher” because they cannot spell or pronounce my name, “Afamefuna”, the boy giggled again.

“Exactly, and I am James, instead of Ifesinachi Omeluora! Both laughed

(Come to think of it, Lord, even Jesus did not change his name after baptism)

So, they took away our wooden carved gods, placed the gold carved ones in their museums, then displayed their porcelain carved gods in our churches. They indoctrinated the belief that everything black had an evil connotation and that’s why Satan is black, but God and all his angels are white. When we heard it enough, we believed our colour was evil and we were evil.

“But why would people agree to that?” Afam asked.

“Ah, my boy,” Grandfather shook his head. “A wise man once said, ‘If you tell a bird long enough that its wings are ugly, one day, it will refuse to fly.’ The missionaries did not just change names—they changed how our people saw themselves. They made our people believe that their own ways were uncivilised.”

The Talking Drum warned them, but many had stopped listening.

“But Grandfather, what made them this successful in changing everything”, Afam asked intensely.

“It is called “Divide and Rule”, and it still exists till today. In the old days, the village was like a chain,” Grandfather continued. “Each person was a link—elders, chiefs, warriors, priests. Everyone was connected. But then the missionaries seeing the effectiveness of the connectedness, created division between the people and the leaders, between the leaders and the priests using the Christian doctrine as their guide.

“What happened to the chain?” Afam asked.

“My son, a chain is only as strong as its weakest link! It broke,” Grandfather said sadly. “A house divided against itself cannot stand. The people lost their leaders. The young ones no longer listened to the elders. And when trouble came, they were too divided to fight back. And this system of divide and rule still exist till date. Pay attention to the politicians and you understand the effectiveness of that system. We are currently divided against religion, tribes, states, colour and class”.

Afam frowned. “So, what happened next?”

Grandfather sighed, looking up at the stars. “Then, my boy, came the cleverest trick of all.” “The missionaries-built schools.”

“But schools are good!”, Afam exclaimed shocked

“Ah, yes,” Grandfather agreed. “Learning is like a lamp—it can light your way. But if someone else is holding the lamp, they decide where you walk.”

I don’t understand, Grandfather”, Afam said baffled

“The missionary schools did not just teach reading and writing. They taught people to obey, to follow, and to believe that their ways were better. “They made our people believe that speaking English was better than speaking Igbo, Hausa, Yoruba, or Efik. That wearing a suit was better than wearing agbada or isiagu”, Grandfather said sadly.

Afam was horrified. “So, they trained people to conform to their colonial masters?”

“Exactly,” Grandfather said. “They created a special group—educated Africans who helped the colonial masters rule their own people. These people became clerks, interpreters, and messengers. Some even looked down on their own families, calling them ‘uncivilized’ because they still followed the old ways.”

“But the missionaries left, Grandfather, and we became free…” Afam said triumphantly

“Indeed, Grandfather nodded. But not entirely so, son”.

“How do you mean, Grandfather?”

“We removed the chains from around our wrists but wore it in our mind. Whether you wear chains around your wrists or chains around your mind, you are not free.” Grandfather sighed.

Ah, Lord, here’s the irony—Africa has seen the light, yet somehow, we’re still fumbling around in the dark! We broke free from physical chains, yet our minds remain tightly shackled. That is why an African will prefer a white man any day from his black brother. That is why he feels elevated and important if he is seen amid white men. That is why he feels rich if he can travel to a white man’s country.

Salvation nko? Oh, it’s simple! But trust us Africans to turn a straight road into a winding maze. The kingdom of God sufferth violence, and only the violent can take it by force! Shikina!

Have you heard about the modern-day slavery? Now that’s a masterpiece! Today, there are no ships, no whips, no traders dragging people away—we’re the ones buying our own tickets! The soldiers have gone home, the traders have retired, yet Africans are voluntarily marching to the very lands they once dreaded. No one is rounding us up anymore; in fact, they’re shutting their doors, but we’re pounding on them, begging to get in. Now that’s a plot twist for the history books!

And the churches the missionaries left? Just wait until you see what we are doing with religion, that lovely, good message has been so twisted and turned that the new generations are asking…. Is there really a God? We are back to where we started from. We just changed from the chief priests with white chalks all over their faces to the high priests wearing all whites. The division and greed in the churches would literally break your heart.

“But you see Lord, the missionaries started an avalanche of blessings which no matter what cannot stop. That drum of righteousness must beat, and we will beat it till the end. We will beat the drum so our children will hear the truth and know the truth. We will beat it so we can differentiate the “Will of God” from the twist of men. Yes, we can be divided against religion and tribes and class, but we will never be divided against our one belief. That you alone are God, and your Will alone will be done in our lives. We are awake to all the deceptions, and all the twists. But as long as we remember our beginning, our journey, and our God, we will never be lost again.”

This is your daughter, Lord; I am still be

ating this drum, and I am checking in.