Pastor Akera stood before the villagers, his presence commanding attention. The air was thick with anticipation as he led the procession to the deceased's parents’ home, where the burial service would take place. Two men carefully carried Wani, still recovering from his injuries, on a stretcher, his eyes fixed on Akera with a mix of desperation and hope.
As they arrived at the burial site, Pastor Akera motioned for order, his voice echoing through the gathering. "There should be no further interruptions as we lay this young soul to rest," he declared. "Satan may have sought to claim him, but we will not let fear or doubt consume us." The police officers stood watchfully, their eyes fixed on Wani, but Akera's gaze met theirs, unwavering.
The choir's voices rose in harmony as they sang hymns of praise and glory, their melodies intertwining with the scent of blooming flowers and fresh earth. The villagers, drawn by the strange events of the past week, joined in, their voices blending in a powerful expression of faith. Children, elders, and women danced with joy, their feet stomping out the rhythm on the dusty ground.
As the burial service concluded, Akera invited the people to sit and rest, sharing words of comfort and hope. The deceased's parents, visibly relieved, thanked Akera and his group for their support. The villagers relaxed, enjoying the traditional foods and drinks prepared by others. The aroma of roasting meat and steaming vegetables wafted through the air, mingling with the sound of laughter and chatter.
Pastor Akera took the stage, his eyes scanning the crowd. "Repentance is not just a word; it's a choice," he declared, his voice filled with conviction. "We must turn away from superstition and fear, and trust in the power of our Lord." Wani, the troubled young man, listened intently, his eyes shining with tears as he accepted Akera's message.
The villagers, moved by Akera's words, began to line up for blessings. Women and children reached out, seeking solace and protection from the revered man of God. The police officers, too, were not immune to the atmosphere, one of them stepping forward to confess his faith.
As the day drew to a close, Wani stood up, his voice trembling as he began to speak. "I have lived a life of greed and destruction," he confessed, his words pouring out like a dam breaking. "I have hurt those I love and those I don't. I am sorry, Lodu, for faking friendship and hurling insults. I promise to make amends and start anew." The villagers listened attentively, their faces filled with compassion and understanding.
The villagers applauded, their faces filled with forgiveness and acceptance. Akera smiled, his eyes shining with warmth. "You are forgiven, Wani," he said. "And you are not alone. We all have the power to choose, to start anew, and to trust in the Lord's mercy."
As the crowd dispersed, the atmosphere transformed, filled with a sense of hope and renewal. The chief of Kenyi, too, was moved, tearing his royal garments and removing his crown as he knelt in worship. The once-mourning family now celebrated, their home transformed into a vibrant church.
Akera concluded the services with a final blessing, laying his hands on the people as a gesture of honour to God. As he and the choir departed, the villagers remained, their faces aglow with a newfound sense of purpose and belonging.
Glory be to God. AMEN.
