Love On Paper

I can’t believe it’s my 30th wedding anniversary in a few days time; on the 27th of November 2023. How time flies when you are having fun! It seems just like yesterday that I met Kev in Makurdi, at the BNCCF meeting (Nigerian Christian Corpers Fellowship). That day is still etched on my mind.

His introduction to the house was “my name is Oghenekevwe, Oghenevwede, Ejokoghene, Daniel Akpokiniovo.” My jaw dropped as he rolled out all his difficult sounding names. In my heart I said, “hmmm, not bad looking but with such horrible names. One day one poor sister will have to take them all on.”

All new members were encouraged to join one small group and Kev decided to join mine, the Prison Ministry. We would visit the Makurdi prisons every Sunday and share the good news of the gospel. We would also show them the practical love of Christ as much as we could. Their requests were usually for supplies like bathing soap, toothpaste or disinfectants. The male prison was overcrowded, and we (ladies) had to walk through it to reach the female section. There was just a handful of women in a barred cage like room and I always wondered what they were in for. That prison was not built for comfort and I don’t ever remember seeing any beds in the female prison. The floor was partially cemented and partially dried mud. They were usually seated quietly on the floor , hardly speaking except to ask questions or to request for prayers.

my room mates and I during the NYSC camp. I am in the middle

During my one-year youth service, I had a special encounter with God where He told me that Kev was going to be my husband. (This might sound strange to those that are not of the Christian faith. We Christians believe that God is alive and can be a Father to as many as receive His offer of salvation. Yes, He can speak to His children).  What He said sounded incredulous because I felt Kev didn’t even know I was alive. He was the gregarious, outgoing, life and soul of the party type. I on the other hand was reserved, shy, finding it difficult to mix. When God told me that Kev was going to be my husband, I started observing him, waiting for him to make a move. After a few weeks, I became confused, questioning whether I had really heard from God. My only comfort was that the other things God had said, were beginning to happen. Kev never made a move. Infact, he rather did the very opposite.  These were his words to me, almost verbatim; “Hennang, you are my type of girl but since God has not allowed me the honour of being your husband, I have to be careful who you marry. I wouldn’t want you to make a mistake. I must scrutinise the person”. My heart sank to the bottom of my feet because I was now even more confused. What did he mean by that? God had told me several things and they had all been happening one after the other except this one. I pondered on what he had just said and responded, “Yes, I will let you know whoever it is.”

The fellowship bus

We continued with our friendship as brother and sister. He was the transport secretary for the fellowship which meant he had the responsibility of driving the bus and doing the runs. He picked people up and dropped them back home on fellowship days. He was so chatty and friendly with everyone. His laughter was loud and raucous; you could hear it a mile off. I would always smile as I sat at the back of the bus listening to him. I cant remember exactly what prompted it but Kev told me once again, “Hennang, I am not your husband so please don’t think I’m going to propose to you.”  Who did he think he was? I was quite upset with his pompous presumptuousness. I was later to find out that it was his way of keeping things in perspective with all the sisters. He never wanted to leave any sister in any doubt about his friendship. Being a natural extrovert, people were easily drawn to him, ladies too. I was quickly realising he was a very straight shooter.

Kev and I on my last day of NYSC

The day came when I had to leave Makurdi back home to Jos. I was perturbed because he still hadn’t said “anything”. I moved back home and started job hunting, later travelling to Lagos to seek greener pastures. By chance, I got invited to an event in Enugu called The NIFES ’92 Conference. It was a student’s conference, and I was looking forward to enjoying the one week away. On one of the days, as I sat listening to the preacher, I heard the Lord speaking to me and saying I would work with NIFES. I wasn’t happy with that as I wanted a “proper job” and not a missionary one. As I was pondering about this message from God, the person with the microphone began advertising some NIFES vacancies that needed to be filled. He said they needed French graduates as they were planning an outreach to French West Africa. Immediately, I started crying as I knew it was referring to me, having just graduated with a degree in French.  I answered the call and signed up to work with the NIFES National Headquarters. I became the PA to the National Director and surprised myself by absolutely enjoying my job. My boss, Brother Femi Adeleye was very organised and structured, and he took me under his wings as a 24-year-old. I learnt how to type on an old manual typewriter and later graduated to an electronic one. I remember the day I was allowed to sit on a computer to do some work. I remember the first few computer lessons I had, they were so complicated and way over my head. I was taught things like MsDos etc. Since then, I have never heard of it and I still don’t know what it means. It was surreal.

NIFES was a lot of hard work. Money was tight but we the junior staff always got paid. We travelled by road alot, visiting the various campuses and strengthening the brethren. I remember our trip to Niamey in the Niger Repbublic. It was a trip of a lifetime, working with the CAPRO missionaries. I remember one day during the street evangelism, one Nigerien invited me to see something in his house that he wanted destroyed. He said if we could deliver him from it, he would serve our Jesus. He explained to me (in French) how the thing would torture him with burns and whips. I went by myself to see what he was talking about. It was a scary looking tree-like, human featured being. I took one look and told him I’d be back later. I’m ashamed to say that I never went back. May God have mercy on me.

Thomas and Lawrence, NIFES Staff in Jos

On my electric typewriter

Me, Chuks and Rita at Mininims wedding in Makurdi

Back then, we didn’t have any emails. All letters were hard copies and mailed. I responded to my bosses’ letters, took minutes and did everything I was told to do. To be honest, he really didn’t need me as he was super meticulous.

Engrossed with work, I quickly forgot about Kev and all that God had said to me. Sometime in May 1992, we organised a training at the Miango Rest Home for all the NIFES staff and some sister missions. Their joint vision is to reach students with the message of Christ in all higher institutions across the globe. There is GHAFES in Ghana, SLEFES in Sierra Leone, TAFES in Tanzania, IFES in the UK, IVCF in the USA and GBU in the French world. Planning a conference was tough as I ran around doing the bookings, sending out invitations, photocopying the conference materials etc. My excitement was palpable when the day finally came and we arrived at the venue. I would be sharing a room with Rose M, the only other female NIFES staff.  She had recently lost her fiancé in a ghastly road accident just a few weeks to the wedding. Three staff members died that day and their passing had been a huge shock to the mission. It was a time of sadness and  sober reflection as we sought comfort from the Lord and tried to understand why.

One morning during the conference, something funny happened. I remember resting my head on my arm during prayers and looking down. At a point, I heard the door open and sensed people coming into the room. I looked up furtively and immediately made eye contact with this gorgeous looking young man.  Our eyes met and I quickly looked down.  They had just arrived from their country for the conference after some delays with immigration.

By lunch time the next day, I was exhausted and had to drag myself to the restaurant. As I got to the queue for the buffet, the last person in the line was the mystery man from the meeting. I can’t remember his name but let’s call him Mickey. He beamed at me, promptly handed me his plate and taking another for himself. He never left my side for the rest of the conference. It was also the 23rd of May, my 25th birthday. I enjoyed the times I spent with Mickey and mentally made a note to tell God He could keep his Kev.  It was a sad day when the conference ended, and Mickey had to leave for his country.

On getting home, I got an unexpected visitor the next day. It was Kev from Warri who had showed up to surprise me on my birthday. My mum asked me who that was, and I introduced him as my friend from the service year. He soon won her over with his friendly chatter and hearty laughter. The next day, he took me birthday shopping and for lunch. I told him all about my new job and the exciting conference that had just concluded. It was a fun filled day as we later walked to the Wildlife Park and back to the house. We said our goodbyes in the evening as he left to spend the last night at a friend’s house. I got home and flopped on my bed, exhausted after a long day out. There certainly was no dull moment with him. As I opened my handbag, I found he had forgotten his diary which he had dropped into my handbag. Oh no, I groaned inwardly, it meant I had to go out again that night. Overcome by curiosity, I decided to open it. The first page didn’t say anything special and so I turned to another page. It said, “God is leading me back to HM (my initials, Hennang Matta). I will go and see her in Jos.” I slammed the diary shut and jumped up with my heart racing. My mouth went dry, suddenly feeling short of breath. I sat down again, transfixed for a few moments not believing what I had just read. I needed to return his diary to him as soon as possible, it wasn’t even funny. I calmed myself down and got into my mums’ car. The drive back to their house took about five minutes. “You forgot your diary,” I mumbled, handing it to him. “You read am?” (pidgin English for “did you read it?”)  he asked with a wry smile. “Noooo,” I responded with a straight face. “You sure say you no read am? He probed further. “noooo,” I responded, still keeping my straight face. He took his diary, and we said our goodbyes for the second time.

When I got home, I was a bundle of mixed emotions; excitement, fear, confusion, love, nostalgia, everything. I knew I needed to pray to get some clarity from God. Once again, because God loved me so much, He reminded me that Kev was my husband and not Mickey.  I got out a pen and paper and wrote Kev a short letter of confession, letting him know that I had read two pages of his diary. I didn’t tell him what I had seen though. It would take about two weeks for him to receive my letter via the Nigerian Postal Service.

Three days later, I received a letter via Speed Post (our Nigerian version of DHL). It was a love letter from Kev, pages and pages long!!! I was shell shocked because I had never seen that side of him. It was also rather poetic, and I wondered if he had copied it from somewhere. He told me how much he loved me and wanted to get married as soon as possible. I read his letter so many times over, trying to grasp the enormity of his words. He had enclosed some money for me to respond via Speed Post as the usual mail would normally take about two weeks for delivery. He needed my response as soon as possible and didn’t want the additional delays with the Post Office. I waited a few days to respond and told him I couldn’t accept his “marriage proposal” as it was by correspondence. He would need to do it again verbally if he wanted a response.

Mininim’s wedding

The next week, I received another love letter inviting me to Warri to meet his family and to “talk.” I knew my mum would never hear of me visiting a guy in another city “just like that”. Luckily for me, our friend Mininim was soon getting married in Makurdi and I was scheduled to attend. I used the opportunity to travel to Warri for the first time in my life. I didn’t know what to expect but it was too late to change my mind. The taxi was already pulling up into the station.

TO BE CONTINUED

Thank you for reading my blog and watch out for the sequel. You can scroll to the bottom for older stories. Please share, share, share :)