I’ve been privileged to be a part of an African church for several years. I must say that no two days are the same and there is always something to make you giggle, always. Below I’ve shared just some of the unique things about attending or growing up in an African church
1.Hymns are subject to various types of remixes – hymns are usually quite sombre songs but I have heard hymns on the keyboard, with a talking drum, with beats and on the saxophone – and all suprisingly quite good too.
2. Any excuse to dance is welcomed with open arms – during the offering, if the pastor wants a dance session, if someone is bringing their new baby to church, if someone has a testimony, the list goes on
3. “Offering time = blessing time”, “Testimony time =blessing time”, “up up Jesus = down down satan” are some of the more popular phrases that everyone knows.
4. The service is liable to run over stated time once in a while
5. You don’t really need a background in music to join the music ministry – all you need is a willing heart and a voice (whatever it sounds like)
6. New years eve aka crossover night is mandatorily spent at church
7. Sunday service requires your Sunday best – so best outfit, shoes, hair, make up, only the best for God’s house
8. Testimony givers will most likely sing a song unless warned otherwise
9. Attending an African church gives you non biological mandatory family who will expect invitations to all major life events
10. Mum or dad making a night vigil compulsory is pretty much iron clad – whether or not you feel like it or not
11. Special church occasions mean Jollof Rice, fried rice, cake, drinks or all of the above
12. The service always ends with “the grace of Our Lord Jesus Christ, the love of God…..” always.
These are the few I can think of. Do you have any other ones? Share them below!
Until next time
Memoirs Of A Yoruba Girl
Posted in All Things Nigerian
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This is a letter to my childhood sweetheart. Read it to the end , I’m sure you’ll really like it.
Letter To My Childhood Sweetheart
It was great seeing you today, after not seeing you for ages. It was amazing how you had changed , you looked older but you still looked youthful at the same time, I guess it’s a little hard to describe. I felt ashamed that you saw me the way I was, but you were never judgemental.
I saw you walking down the street with a really pretty girl. You always had loads of friends even before we became friends.
We’ve known each other as long as I can remember. My mum and dad knew your dad for a long time so we automatically became friends.
You were my first and best play mate. We would spend hours playing in the streets , riding bikes and knocking doors. Mum and dad let you sleep over so many times, it was almost as if you lived with us. The sleepovers used to be so much fun. We would stay up all night telling stories and making each other laugh until our little tummies hurt. I thought we would be together forever. It was my new friends that came between us. It’s sad now I think about it. You wanted me to stay away from them, but I didnt want to hear any of it.
Eventually, we just grew apart. We never spent time together anymore, I always cancelled on you last minute to do something else. The little time we did spend together was rushed and insincere on my part. I was a terrible friend. I knew you still really wanted to speak to me and see me, but I just didnt have the time anymore. I guess you wanted the old me back. Looking back, I guess I felt a bit guilty for treating you so badly was why I couldn’t admit I was wrong.
I still always invited you to family functions because it would have been weird you not being there. You were always at my birthday parties, at Christmas parties, family BBQ’s and any other mundane family function. I guess you were like family to me. It did become more and more awkward though because all we would say was hi and bye. I could see in your eyes you wanted to say so much more but you never forced it. It was as if you were waiting on me to make up my mind.
Church was your favourite. You made me love church and Sunday school. You always knew all the answers and you never wanted to go home. I guess because your dad was in charge of everything was why you loved going so much.
I really regret how I treated you and seeing you brought back all the old feelings. All you ever wanted was to love me. You wanted to soothe away the stress of my day and whisper sweet nothings in my ears. But I never had the time.
I realise now that I have always loved you. From the first time we played outside together, I knew I would always love you. You were and will always be my childhood sweetheart.
You know about my husband, my kids and my job. I don’t know how my husband might feel about it but I guess I have to be true to my heart, whatever happens. Jesus Christ, lover of my soul, my childhood sweetheart, can we pick up from where we left off?
Hope you guys enjoyed that. The idea for this short letter came because I realise a lot of christians have known or known about Jesus for ages but have only developed meaningful relationships with him as they have grown up, a bit like a childhood sweetheart. Hope you enjoyed this. Let me know what you thought of it.
Until next time
Memoirs Of A Yoruba Girl
Tags: bible, childhood, childhood sweetheart, children, Christ, Christian, christian fiction, christian fictional writing, christianity, does Jesus love me?, father son and holy ghost, father son and holy spirit, federal republic of Nigeria, fiction, fictional writing, fulani, God, gospel, hausa, holy, Holy Spirit, I love Jesus, igbo, Jesus, Jesus Christ, Jesus loves me, knowing Jesus Christ, Lover of My Soul, memoirs of a yoruba girl, salvation, scripture, the bible, the holy spirit, the holy trinity, west Africa, west african, writing, yoruba
thanks for dropping by today. It’s been a while, I know I know, 😦
No matter how far I go, or how busy I am, memoirsofayorubaagirl always tugs on my heartstrings so here I am, typing this post , at last. This post is soo overdue, its actually serious. This was due on here over 3 months ago, I’ve nursed this on my mind since then
Hope this blog post meets you well (feel free to reply), I’m back at uni! Final year! After a nice long/short year at the town of Northampton. I am quickly getting familiar with the work mode and the library.
So on to the post, this blog post came to my mind a couple of months ago, when I went along with my younger sister to pick up her GCSE results (nerves). Long story short, she did very very well, I won’t tell you what she got, (ask her yourself when you see her). So on the way back, during the course of conversation, I remembered a lady very dear to my heart who I would have loved to share in the joy of the day. Needless to say, the memories had me and my sister walking the streets of London with tear stained faces, 😦
I decided to share my memory of an extraordinary woman, that I was privileged to know for several years. What better place to share the memory than on my memoirs, ;-). So starting the story right from the beginning, rewind to about year 8 (I think). So secondary school is nice and all, but I’m struggling with mathematics #groans. I can’t remember how I told my mum I was struggling but the decision was to get me a private tutor. I didnt have a problem with the tutor part, it was the reviews I had heard about this tutor that gave me a little cause for concern.
First day of lessons, I went with my mum. We met an older but very elegant mixed heritage woman. I was intrigued but scared. Funny enough after a few lessons, I told her how scared I was of her before I had met her, and she dissipated any other fears I had. This woman was an educator, I knew it the first time I met her. She was an educator and was extremely good at what she did. Needless to say, the mathematics I once loathed became a subject I came to love and excel at. My younger sister was also privileged to sit under her tuition.
I feel so privileged and blessed to have been a student of this amazing woman whose teaching career had spanned several years in Nigeria previously. As many who have lost a loved would say, it doesnt seem real. Whenever I do pass by her home, I still feel as though shes still there, at her study table, surrounded by books, under the study light.
This is where things get sweet, because its not really the end. Though she is no longer here, she is with the Lord. And one day, we are going to meet again! In a place where GCSE mathematics will have no meaning, (doesn’t have that much now to be honest) , a place where we will meet to never part! This place is called……….HEAVEN! I believe she is already there, I pray the grace of the Lord will sustain me, so I will there, I hope and pray I’ll see you there too, will you be?
Until next time
Happy Sunday everyone, and Mothers Day too!
another short randomie
I was in church today, during the praise and worship, then it dawned on me…….. how come the instrumentalists are always (well mostly) guys? Can’t women play instruments? And how come all (or most) of the choir members and worship leaders and soloists are always women? I know for a fact there are plenty of guys who sing in church, and very well too. This isn’t just in my church here, thinking about it, most, if not all the churches I’ve attended in the last
10 years , actually all my life have this structure going on. The most ironic thing being I saw more of an even spread of both sexes doing each thing in church in Nigeria while on holiday.
The conclusion is men are scared to sing and women are scared to play instruments!
Sorted (Y) xxx