An Encounter with an Incarnated Angel

I woke up boisterous on the morning of the 16th of February 2019. It is not always, that my days begin on such high spirits and so on this particular day, I was to have an unplanned rendezvous [it is pronounced as ‘rendevu’ and not what you just read silently]. I am a man that oozes class right from the dress, to the walk, and to the talk. My myriad of friends are always complementing me on the latter aspects lest you label me as audaciously proud. And so I walked to my mahogany made wardrobe and I spotted a cream-brown long trouser, a white tunic and a navy blue tuxedo coat. The un-informed fellows in matters fashion would call that combination a break-suit. Need I narrate how sharp I looked after adorning myself? No.

Bible in my hands, I made way to give thanks to the Almighty for His goodness and unmerited favors.

“Kari-bu sana Sir!” bellowed a Lavington security guy at the gate as I majestically walked into the church compound. I have been called Sir lately more often than not for reasons I am yet to fully comprehend. I then get firm handshakes accompanied with smiles of admiration as I walk charismatic-ally past fellow believers to find my way to a seat at the very front of the House of God. My heart leaps and I feel proud of myself for selecting that particular attire.

And Can It Be’, was the hymn that rented the air melodiously as I sat down and immediately began roaring with bass second to none;

“And can it be that I should gain
An int’rest in the Savior’s blood?
Died He for me, who caused His pain?
For me, who Him to death pursued?
Amazing love! how can it be
That Thou, my God, shouldst die for me?
Amazing love! how can it be
That Thou, my God, shouldst die for me?”

The Sabbath mood now settled in my nerves. I had not woken up boisterous in vain.

“What’s the occasion man!?’ beamed my good friend Obambla as he squeezed to sit next to me.

“Ni Sabbath man!” I retorted with a thankful voice since his question was a complement in disguise. Men do not complement each other with numerous adjectives.

The session was one of a kind especially after the exhortation by our preacher who has gained the nickname of ‘Rabii Collo’. He had titled his preaching as ‘Missing in Machpelah’. You are not ready for heaven if you do not know that Machpelah was a particular place in the land of Canaan where the Patriarchs of the Bible were buried together with their wives with an exception of Rachel, Jacob’s wife who kept holding on to strange gods.

After the incredibly life affirming session, came the most favorite part for many Adventists, what we call potluck or lunch for laymen. During these sessions previously, I have made friends who remain dear to this day. Maraganga my other great friend suddenly appeared and we jested as we laughed out loud as he recounted how he was harassed by traffic officers for driving while speaking on phone as he was en route to church that day.

“Hello Gentlemen,” a very beautiful dulcet and concordant voice delightfully interrupted our hearty conversation.

My! Oh! My! I saw the incarnate of an angel right there. Apparently, there were two ladies and I really did not care whose voice had been voiced to salute us. All I cared was the beauty that I beheld. I was stupefied. In what is referred to by scholars as a quinquennium, I had never caught a glimpse of such a statuesque sight of a female human being. It is why I refer to her as an angel for lack of a worthy or better human comparison. I do not recall responding to the greeting.

One of the ladies was our church-mate Arjana Sarai. The lady behind her brought my existence to a near indefinite close. I did not realize that my hand was long stretched towards her for a handshake until she shook my hand with a lot of love. You have ever experienced a handshake full of love? Well, I did that day. Looking at her face, she wore a smile that is exquisite and specifically tailored to charm me. I had continuously held her hand oblivious of the fact that she needed to shake Maraganga’s and Obambla’s hands too. I shamefully let go after an awakening when she gently pulled her hand away.

The lens of my spectacles are powered x-5 for the weakest of myopic conditions of mortal humans. I can call on the name of the legendary Sakawa and Moraa Ng’iti that the magnification doubled after the ‘love handshake’. My eyes followed the angel as she proceeded to casually shake my friends’ hands and walked away. She was in very modest apparel. Her walk was so accurate as if it was the absolute correct answer of Naismith’s rule of calculating a normal person’s moderate speed.

Her movements as she walked almost expressed the goodness of God in creating a companion for man. Her legs flawlessly thumped the ground with an energy that is enough to intimidate the underground creatures. I could swear that the hair on her head is only friendly to natural olive oil and not any other hair jelly due to its sparkling nature and length.

Charles Dickens rightly put it just as I would in his book David Copperfield as he was describing beauty:


She was more than human to me. She was a Fairy, a Sylph, I don’t know what she was – anything that no one ever saw, and everything that everybody ever wanted. I was swallowed up in an abyss of love in an instant. There was no pausing on the brink; no looking down, or looking back; I was gone, headlong, before I had sense to say a word to her.”

“Bro, it is unacceptable for Christians to ogle like that!” retorted Maraganga.

It is then that I realized that I had wandered away in thought. I felt ashamed and humbled that very moment. ‘What did I deserve to meet such a beautiful soul?’ I asked God. He seemingly answered back by saying, “You have been lonely for too long my son.”

Turning in the direction that the angel went, I could not trace her. And I laid tonnes of blame upon blame on the guys I were with for making me lose sight of the price freely bestowed unto me by my Father above. I solemnly affirmed with my mind, heart, soul and physical being to look for that lady afterwards.

It would be injustice to the English Laureate William Shakespeare if I quote him not in this matter from the book Romeo and Juliet:

“Did my heart love till now? Forswear it, sight! For I ne’er saw true beauty till this night.”

My case was during the day. I spent that afternoon session in church in a bliss.

As church was almost ending, she appeared again to bid goodbye to her friend Arjana in a whisper were she was seated. I almost shouted goodbye but the sane part of me reminded me that we were in church. As she walked out, I almost walked after her had it not been for the damning restraining hand of Obambla. People like Obambla will miss heaven for being barriers to love stories.

I bestowed upon myself investigative abilities. In an hours’ time, I interrogated all the possible individuals in that church that could be knowing who she was, first beginning with Arjana and ending with Elder Abioye who she earlier on exchanged nitty gritties.

With my narration above, a phrase from the infamous romantic book Captain Corelli’s Mandolin by Louis de Bernières, seems to be laughing out loud at me:

“When you fall in love, it is a temporary madness. It erupts like an earthquake, and then it subsides. And when it subsides, you have to make a decision. You have to work out whether your roots are to become so entwined together that it is inconceivable that you should ever part. Because this is what love is. Love is not breathlessness, it is not excitement, it is not the desire to mate every second of the day. It is not lying awake at night imagining that he is kissing every part of your body. No … don’t blush. I am telling you some truths. For that is just being in love; which any of us can convince ourselves we are. Love itself is what is left over, when being in love has burned away. Doesn’t sound very exciting, does it? But it is!”

Feel free to join in the laughter!


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