Sixty-Five

It is the Sunday before the famous trial begins.

It has been a week of uproar in the nation.

The news of the impending trial have gripped the nation by the throat, and has even attracted international audiences. The fact that an ex-wife is leading the prosecution has raised a whole lot of debates during the week.

Whilst some people see it as something good to send a message of warning, others are of the view that it is unethical and dangerous. The suspicious see it as a way of aiding a hardened criminal to go scot free.

As the debate continued, Judge Annor had had no option than to announce that proceedings are going to be carried live on television for everybody to witness, and this had settled the uproar, and now people are looking forward to the trial with real anticipation. Discussions rage on television, radio and social media. Most newspapers are churning out daily updates.

The fever has gripped the whole nation, and although everybody knows it will be a short court case, they still wait patiently, interested only in the number of years that the judge will hand down to Chris Bawa.

Judge Ossom Annor has remanded Bawa in cells, and he is not allowed any visitors. That faithful Sunday the press descends, without mercy, on the church premises. Curious members of the public also attend church, and so the church auditorium is filled to capacity.

The Bawa family has not made any public pronouncements on the issue, and so the press has come to church to see if the man of God will say something about the furor surrounding his youngest child.

Effe, Steve, Afful and Elaine are sitting at their usual places. Junior, who has been with his grandparents ever since the sad news broke out, sits still besides his grandfather in the middle row, and he makes no attempt to go to his mother, as he usually does, and this single act hurts Effe very much.

Ira is also in church, but surprisingly she sits very far away from Effe, and does not even look in her direction, which other members of the congregation who know them find very strange.

For several years the twins have always sat together in church; they have been that inseparable. After the Bible Studies, there was time for testimonies, and then there was worship, and praises, and now it is time for the man of God to preach.

The Reverend Brand Bawa, resplendent as always in a superb wine suit and white shirt, mounts the podium. His expression is that of deep regret and sorrow.

Around that same time Junior gets up to go to the gents, and his grand-father gets up to go with him. The reverend looks pious and wise as he stares emptily into the air for a moment, and then he sighs and adjusts the microphone downward a bit.

"I might as well get this over with before I continue. All of you know that my youngest son, Mr. Chris Bawa, has been arrested again for a very heinous crime against an innocent young woman," Reverend Bawa says, and there is great pain in his voice.

There are great sighs in the auditorium, and all sounds die down. Junior stops suddenly and turns to face the pulpit. Ken Kedem tries to take his hand and lead him away, but the boy draws his hand back and stare up at the man of God.

"I have loved that boy, and I've done all that a father could do, and more. I've prayed, fasted and gone down the road of ashes for him. Alas, drugs and alcohol continue to rage through the veins of that boy, and it has come to a point where I can only sustain him in prayers. I've asked the good Lord to touch that boy's heart, and bring him home, if it is the will of the Lord. Until then, we as a family, regretfully wish to inform you that we have asked him to stop using our surname. Chris, he is called, but we are unable at this time, in the face of this atrocity, to allow him to use the name BAWA."

There is rapturous applause from the congregation.

"God bless you, Father!" comes the cries from the congregation.

"We support you, Father!"

"Long overdue! May the Lord heal him!"

And there are other cries of support from the congregation as the applause goes on. The journalists are having a field day. Their cameras had been recording, and now they snap away, taking numerous pictures.

And then, as the man of God holds up one hand, and uses a handkerchief to wipe tears of sorrow from his eyes, he looks down, and sees Junior standing in front of the pulpit, looking up at him. There are microphones lying on the raised podium, left there by people who had given testimonies and sang to the glory of God.

The podium is a bit raised, and so with Junior standing on the floor just in front of the raised part, the microphones, still turned on, are roughly in direct alignment to his mouth, and so when he speaks the microphones carry his words through the speakers, and everybody in the church hears him loud and clear.

"Are you saying my Daddy is no longer your son, Grandpa?" he asks tearfully.

His unsteady voice, filled with unshed tears, carry round the church, stunning everybody into silence.

Effe stands up, aghast, and tries to get out of the seats to get to her son.

The man of God looks at the little boy, and Mrs. Lois Bawa puts a hand to her heart.

"I didn't say that, Junior. That's not how I meant it," the reverend says.

"No, you did! You did, Grandpa! Sunday School teacher says we shouldn't lie, but you're lying now. You're really, really, really lying now!" the boy cries, getting more agitated.

"That's enough, Junior!" Ken says, shocked.

He tries to hold the boy's arm, but again Junior shrugs free.

"That means I'm also not your grandson, isn't it?" Junior persists.

"No, no, no, no! Junior, I love you, I'll always love you," the man of God says, his face draining of color because he is appalled. "It's not as you're taking it!"

"You're still lying, Grandpa! Sunday School teacher says Jesus went to look for the lost sheep that got lost! It's one of my really, really, really favorite stories!" Junior utters through his tears. "Jesus looked for the sheep until he found it and brought it back to the herd, see? Sunday School teacher says the sheep is like sinners, okay? So, Jesus looks for sinners! You know what I think, Grandpa? I think if you've been Jesus you would've left that lost sheep and you never would've looked for it and you'll have just said it is not your sheep again and you'll pray for it to come back home! But I know you can't pray for lost sheep to come home. Just like Jesus you have to search for it in really, really, really awful places before you can find it and bring it home. You're not like Jesus! You just want to leave that lost sheep to die!"

The boy is hurt, and he is weeping, and he standing stiffly and speaking, and as his voice carries through the church it touches hearts, and it freezes everyone.

The reverend Brand Bawa slowly drops his hand, and on his face is a look of stunned incredulity. Stan Bawa stands up, quite embarrassed by the whole spectacle, and quite angry with the little spoilt brat who has never been held in check. He glares down at Junior and speaks in harsh angry tones.

"Now stop that nonsense, Junior!" Stan says fiercely. "This is adult talk, and you're too young to understand! Stop being so impertinent! Go back to your seat right now."

And then Junior points a tiny accusing finger at his uncle, and his little face is filled with such passionate emotion as his tears fall, that it rattles Stan greatly.

"I know it is you, Uncle Stan! I know Grandpa would never never, never really, really, really have said that my daddy is not his son if it hadn't been for you!" the boy says accusingly as his tears fall down. "You've never really, really, really ever, ever liked my Daddy! I know it is you who suggested this! You don't like my Daddy, Aunt Diana does not like my Daddy, Grandma Lois does not like my Daddy, Grandpa Brand does not like my Daddy! Why, Uncle Stan? Why do you hate my Daddy?"

Stan cannot utter a word.

He is stunned that the little boy can pinpoint so accurately that he has been the instigator of the man of God disowning his last son. Sweat suddenly forms on Stan's face and fall down his face, and in his shame, he takes out a huge handkerchief and wipes his face.

Effe has reached her son, and she takes his hands in hers. She is deeply disturbed.

"Junior, my prince, please, that's enough!" she whispers, aghast. "We all love your Daddy. It's just that –"

"If you really love Daddy then you should really, really, really love him, Mommy!" Junior says hoarsely as he gasps for breath.

Effe goes still. Her breath catches in her throat.

"Oh, my Prince!" she whispers.

"I love you, Mommy. But I don't want to be called Hollison," Junior says gently. "If Grandpa doesn't want us to use his name, Daddy will give me another name. Can I go home with Aunt Rammy today, please?"

He does not wait for her to answer.

Tears drench Junior as he races towards the exit. His little legs are unsteady as he runs blindly, his throat making choking sounds as his little heart breaks with pain and confusion and bitterness.

His little arms are held out, and his legs are so wobbly in his grief that he almost falls. Ira stands up and quickly moves into the aisle, and she get down on her knees and holds out her arms, and Junior collapses against her, bawling his heart out.

Effe's stunned eyes meet those of her sister and she cringes inside at the look of sudden ferocious dislike in the depths of Ira's eyes. She watches, weak with emotional torture, as Ira picks up her son and walks out with him.

Dear Lord! Dear sweet, Lord! I'm losing my son… I'm losing my dearest son!

For a moment, Effe trembles and her legs almost give way beneath her, but Ken Kedem puts an arm comfortingly around her.

The Reverend Brand speaks then, softly and gently.

"You're doing the right thing, Effe. Never despair. God rules, and I know He is going to touch Chris' heart! Now, please sit down, and let us prepare our hearts and listen to the word of God."

Somehow, although his preaching is as usual powerful and deeply spiritual, it does not penetrate as deeply into the hearts of his congregation as it normally does.