The Witching Hour

Ah. 3:00 AM

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This is my time. So quiet and when I sit up in my bed, I know I’m the only one doing that, at least on this street. What can I say, I enjoy being peculiar. Being odd doesn’t have to be bad, right? Right. I’m odd. So odd, I prefer to avoid company and be alone most of the time, which is the least of my oddities. Earned me the name “Solo” back in the day.

So my biggest lesson yesterday, this is it:

Civil servants working as administrative staff can be more efficient if they talk less.

Why do they really have to talk so much? Why do they have to talk so much when people are waiting? Do I look like I’m interested in aso oke and any other type of aso? And must they speak Yorùbá? I’m Yorùbá and I’m disgusted. How will others feel?

And the way they switch to colloquial English when it’s my turn is pretty annoying. They just size me up and have this weird look that says “Omo Igbo”. Isn’t that just offensive?

And then they start teasing me in Yorùbá and I just have to laugh and feign ignorance. Yes, I was born in Lagos. No I don’t understand what you’re saying. Of course I know I’m in Yorùbá land. Aaw, don’t mind me; I will learn Yorùbá. Don’t be offended.

Just sign the form already! No I’m not half cast or what did you say? Half cast. Sigh. I ain’t cast in half man. See, I’m full bodied.

This sort of thing pops up in my head during this kind of time. The witching hour. How weird. I just like it. No I’m not a wizard. I thought I would attend Hogwarts but that’s just Hollywood making witchcraft seem like cotton candy. I don’t like cotton candy though.

This is what I do, or may be found doing, during the witching hour:

I pray. Not the loud, thundering prayer asking enemies to die and all that kind of thing. I totally detest disturbing people so I pray quietly. Sometimes I can barely hear myself, and I doze off. Yeah. And the prayer gets in my dream or something like that and I wake up. And I like that, really. Okay. Never mind.

I meditate. At this point the Word of God sinks in more for me. No distractions and I’m really able to focus on the Spirit teaching me what the Word directs.

I read. I enjoy reading a lot. I don’t know why anyone wouldn’t want to read. Reading is fun. Words are cool.

I write. Really, I’m much better at speaking than writing but I keep practicing. I wonder why God brought me here though. I miss the look on faces when they hear my husky voice. I still cannot place it. I’m beginning to love my voice. People don’t really care down here and I keep my mouth shut.

I listen to music. My phone has really cool Dolby audio so my witching hour music experience is always the best, believe me. I just plug my ears and it straight till Kingdom come. Oh Good Lord.

I think. It may be about global warming or why I can’t ride a bicycle, or skate (that’s my dad’s fault). I’ve found myself musing about the weird way HRH7 can be two people on two blogs. That’s just weird. And why can’t I eat the dough and save the sausage for last? That’s the point of a sausage roll right? The sausage?
And those civil servants…aargh!

I never pray against witches and the like. I believe many Christians look the wrong way when they are saved. That’s why it’s always about witches and demons and bla bla. No, I’m not saying they don’t exist. I’m saying turn around, because Jesus is on the other side and the Bible says to look to Him.

I’m not against prayers like that. I just don’t think witches and demons flank Jesus.

You face Jesus. That’s it. It’s not that simple but it really is that simple. That’s a topic for another day. It’s a day really far away though.

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O. M.

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