The art of testifying
Just in case you
didn’t know before, testimonies’ in these parts, are chronicles of God’s divine
intervention in the affairs of men, often shared in print or electronic media
but mostly in front of a live audience in church. The best testimonies in
church are compelling narratives and like a true orator, you have but a brief
period to get your audience hooked. So the delivery is everything. In fact it
should contain all the elements of a good script; an engaging plot, interesting
characters, a denouement and even a cliff-hanger for maximum effect. Okay?
Good.
Prologue
At least twice
every year, thousands of Nigerian youths, most of them fresh graduates of
higher education are herded into ranch styled closed camps, for a stretch of
three weeks, across various locations around the country. The program is called
the NYSC and while it stops short of a direct conscription, the NYSC is no less
a draft and there are consequences for avoiding it. Nevertheless, a thriving
cottage industry has grown overtime on the back of persons looking to avoid or
at least influence regular NYSC postings
Scene 1
All eyes were on
me as I took my turn to share my testimony. “Brethren” I began, “this year 2014
has indeed been my year of divine surprise just like our father in the lord
declared”. The drums rolled, several people nodded and waved their hands in
agreement, I cleared my throat noiselessly and went on to narrate my testimony
proper.
I started with
how the lord saw me through my university days and provided for me, (I knew to
keep that part short since I had narrated it sometime before). I continued with
how I was called up for the NYSC scheme and then the devil tried to steal my
joy when it turned out I had been posted to a cheerless state, in a cheerless
region for the programme.
Feeling
miserable, I set out on the tedious journey to the dreary state but before I did, I went on my knees, prayed,
quoted from the scriptures and called upon my God to do something, after which
my heart was at peace. Soon enough I was hit with a flood of miracles. Firstly
at the end of the three weeks camping, I was miraculously redeployed to a
delightful state over flowing with opportunities.
At the new state
the miracles continued, as my initial horror at being packaged off to a rural
village as a sufferhead subject
teacher soon turned into gladness as I was again favoured with a divine posting
to a choice federal government agency right in the middle of the state capital.
I then get down
on my knees, wave my hands, praise the lord and bring my testimony to a climax
with accompanying deafening applause and shouts of hallelujah from the church.
The making/behind the scenes
If you have read
up to this point, I regard you as my ‘personal-person’, so come with me as I grant
you a backstage unrestricted access into the making of “’my testimony”.
Okay here we go;
remember that part where I said I was miraculously redeployed to a more
favourable delicious state? It turns out I went to camp armed with a robust but
hurriedly concocted doctor’s report to prove to the officials that I suffered
from multiple life threatening condition. A follow up phone call from some nice
neighbour who had the right contacts, wrapped things up nicely and I was on the
next bus out of the hinterland.
Again remember
that part where I was miraculously ‘elevated’ from classroom teacher to a place
in a delicious government agency? Well, it was just another proof that money is
still the greatest shaman we have today. I only had to cough out the sum of ten
thousand naira to some nice official within the system and I got the chance to
decide for myself, just exactly where I desired to be posted.
So there you
have it, from fine print to bold print, all of the pesky little details of my
testimony and the “wonderful miracles” that went into its production. I just
thought to share with you. Thanks and goodbye.
