Whatever invisible hand that was behind the mysterious incidents had an audacious motive: crush the head, render the rest of the body powerless.

Our father was the breadwinner of the family. Mother did odd jobs to support, but the income was fickle. I and my siblings were still young, and even most of the extended family depended on our dad. It was thanks to the job he did that we were going to live in the city for the first time and get to attend better schools. Hence, the first wave of attacks were directed at him.

As the attacks came, the question on our minds was: who is behind this?

It could be anyone. Neighbors. Church members. Family members – some had come to participate in a send-off party that was to be organized for dad in a few day’s time.

At night, I had terrible dreams. These dreams slowly took place in real time and I began believing every dream because they happened in real life just as I had seen them. I usually told my parents about my nightmares and we prayed about them.

At the same time, we were being cautious not to let a dream ruin our relationships with people. Discernment. The devil can take on the face of a trusted friend in one’s dreams and if one was not careful, friendship that took painful efforts and time to cultivate will evaporate into thin air because of paranoia.

There are times too that nightmares are engineered by overeating late at night and sleeping almost immediately. What a pity it would be to let a hot pot of hotdogs one ate one late night, be the wedge hammer that separates the strong bond between two old friends.

It was one cool, fine weather in September. Some sisters from our local church were in our house to help mom with cleaning and scrubbing. Every Saturday morning, I usually did that job with my siblings. But because we were relocating to the city, mom decided to wash all her tables, chairs, clothes, and bathrooms.

So the women were in three groups. Some were washing clothes, some were scrubbing the toilets after which they washed old tables and chairs with wire gauze. When left in the sun to dry, the furniture looked as if it were newly made.

Just outside the house wall, were young men helping us weed around the house. The landlord was an elder in our church and was so generous that he gave our family a place to stay for free, no rent. The least we could do was to leave his house as clean as we met it.

It was almost noon. Mom thought the workers helping with various work at home would soon be hungry, hence she began preparing lunch with the help of some of the women who weren’t washing or cleaning. Some arrived late.

The landlord was on the compound. He had opened the bonnet of his car and together with his brother, was inspecting something.

I can’t remember what I was doing at the time but whatever it was, I was suddenly disrupted by some sort of commotion around our house gate. The goats were reared in the house were the crudest of the savage kind. Very stubborn. I at first thought it was one of them being chased with sticks and stones for stealing a munch in a tuber of yam or some grains.

But when I heard “Jesus! Jesus!… “ from several mouths almost in unison, I knew something was off. Nobody invoked the name of Jesus in a battle with a goat.

I went to find out. Dad was seated on the ground, his motor on the ground, dents in the house wall. It was like pieces in a jigsaw puzzle my mind brilliantly put together in a flash.

In shock, I drew closer. A few blood stains on his legs and arms. Everyone was completely taken aback as they now gathered about him. It could have been the end. By some stroke of luck, the worse hadn’t happened.

He was leaving to town to get some items and the motor wouldn’t start. He kept trying and when it finally did, it shot him like a bullet, straight into the wall. A motor he had ridden for years without any accident had become a metal bull charging at a stationary wall. Impressive.

Our God was wide awake as ever, but more surprises were coming…