BLOOD SPILLED FROM THE PRIEST'S OFFICE into the confession room and splattered on the door of the confession room, some splashing on my face.


Before he was killed


Then came gunshots, blam! blam!! blam!!! and second, came a shock and freezing in my whole body system. My heart throbbed, my breath ostensibly ceased and for a moment the world was silent: my ears were blocked by the sound from the gun. I heard voices again, but low muffling voices, but it was a voice that spoke of pandemonium and confusion and uncertainties. The muffling voices were suddenly fading away being replaced by clear plain voices. I could hear screaming and shouting; women screaming the names of their children, like children being forced into a van or something like that. Babies crying, every man's voice told of l fear and hopelessness.

Then came more gunshots, as many times as the unknown shooters could shoot.

'Run! run!!' I heard a young boy, perhaps a youth giving this warning. I wanted to run, to seek solace and refuge outside the confession room but papa had once told me the place we go to confess to the Father is like the throne of grace and since we have boldly entered into the throne of grace then we shouldn't at all the afraid if anything because He is with us. So I stayed, believing I was safe even though I'd confessed my sins.

But I was curious, I did try to see the boy who gave that warning, and just then I heard more gunshots and next came a sudden scream of one close to death, and after some time I checked, pulling the curtains a little bit open. Fidgeting and sweating, my hands vibrating tears rolling down my cheeks; I'd been enveloped by fear. Then I stood with my toes raised a little bit high and behold, the young boy lay dead in his d.

The whole place was littered with dead bodies, the country was in total desolation...

I sobbed.



*********


That same evening.

After he was killed.


Two things marinade and my very breath, ep and full of uncertainties. Although just as my father had said, I felt safe I know I wasn't safe. God? I gasped, where was He? I thought the people who called upon His name aren't safe, why? The enemies of the cross, the crescent, a jihadist sect called, Janjaweed had invaded Nain and God didn't do anything? " It's not possible, I believe God," I heard myself mumbling these words, "Yes, I do, whether He saves me or not I still believe him."

I recall Mama's words about faith and trust in God, she said faith is forgetting all your seeming impossibilities and trusting in God, and that's what I did.

Then I traced the whole story and reached a verdict that God Himself would raise a Savior for Nain. But who? I didn't know.

How did I come into the confession room?

I'm from a Catholic family, and we are used to confessing our sins, so this particular day, I stole Mama's money just to be part of the team of boys in my senior brother's class who was planning to go camping, I was just eight, what did I know that I would do during camping, I had eavesdropped on my senior brother's conversation with his classmates and I decided to go with them.
Anthony, so was his name at baptism, didn't stop me, he was very flexible to deal with, he allowed me but he couldn't get the money for me, I will have to get it on my own. I didn't have the money so I thought I'd stolen it from Mama.

Mama didn't see me, but Aunty San D, did, she caught me red-handed and she told on me.

After everything I was asked to go and confess my sins, it was while trying to say some prayers of penitence that the whole thing started, and here I've been, unsure of what had become of my family.

At last, I heaved and started reciting the Creed, but I stopped suddenly when I heard a bang on the door of the priest's office, the Janjaweed, had dragged him in, I could see them by peeping through a small hole. My heart throbbed fast and I felt weak.

The Janjaweed were this Muslim jihadist group that seeks to overthrow the government of Nain and makes it a Muslim nation.

Rumor has it, that the meaning of their name - Janjaweed -jihadist is devils on horses' backs and indeed they were devils, ruthless and tyrannical.

Then I saw the priest, Father Augustine, he looked pale, with his blood-covered face. His dark hair is now scattered and bushy. He sobbed as he was being beaten and mucus fell from his nose.

He felt the cold hands of death touching him, and to that, he found no solace, but to a higher knowing and revelation he had found solace, I saw he had peace, the peace that passes all understanding. And he was ready to die for the one whom he loved.

Then I saw the priest, he kissed the crucifix and mumbled, "Oh Lamb of God, I shall now be slain with you. I've served you from my youth and now is my salvation nearer than when I first believed in you."

Then he was shot, I believe a hundred bullets were pumped into Father Augustine's body. So blood spilled from the priests' office into the confession room and splattered on some splashing my face through the hole.

The masked men had killed him, the devils on horses back had killed him, Nain isn't safe, not anymore.

I was shaking, the Janjaweed's would come and find me in the confession room, but I saw the men left, and alone the priest lay in his pool of blood.

It was twilight,

I sobbed and whimpered in the confession room.

Culled from the novel, Ash Wednesday

Written by © JC Allison