by Oyindamola Shoola “FATHER!!! I wanna be your
Bureau de Change!” is what I heard Sade shout at the altar. ”Father, Maldives will look good on my skin, so will being Cubana or Otedola’s pikin. Father, relocate me to Canada, so my backyard can be America.” ”Father, I wanna ride a Tesla but I can use Porsche to stroll in Abuja and the key to a Rover will fit my ring finger.” As I knelt at the altar to say my prayer Sade screamed, ”DEAR FATHER!!! let my enemies die by fire.” Dreading my thoughts as sin, I couldn’t help but to wonder when God became a car dealer or a personal assassin.
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