I Actually Went to Church on Easter

No. I have not suddenly become religious, I went because of an incredible sense of history that St. Martin’s the local church in Westmeston provided. Parts of it were built during Norman times in the 11th century, that is almost 1000 years ago.  One  thousand years of piety and prayer and an atrocity or two I’m sure. Still one  just has to feel, you know, like you’re in the presence of something holy and beautiful and special.

Of course in Nigeria I always refused to enter any church at all. I used to irreverently say it was because i feared i would burst into flames the moment I walked through the doors. And I must admit churches in Nigeria did give me the heebie jeebies. Then again every time I did enter a church as a youth in Imo State someone always tried to ‘exorcise’ my many demons.  To the natives my high yellow color apparently ensured some level of demonic possession or other. I never did find out why.

Of course religion and spirituality is not about any of the many misconceptions of Nigerian and English churches to me but that’s another post entirely.

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