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MUSTARD II – Ch. 21 | KT OLLA

MORROW’S guests were a company of eight – five men and three women. So his small family settled them in two of their bedchambers. Then called to Oji and Daleka for more space for them.

So, this ‘house’ of three brothers happened to shelter God’s messengers. They housed them through their early work in Ede.

Then, that night when the evangelists arrived, Morrow had his wife prepare fine meal. Some African dish with sauce, and a heavy cap of goat meat.

So the household settled to eat, together with its guests. The man laid down some straw mat for the team, then another for his family. So, they dined as one.

The missionaries felt quite grateful they wanted to say thank you. But they found the language quite a barrier. So they gestured broadly as they spoke.

‘Thank you! I mean... we’re thanking you – thank you!’

The elderly man replied them. So it caught his guests by surprise.

‘Thank God! Yes, thank God!’ It was the farthest he could try.

‘Oh, you speak English? You can speak English?’

Morrow replied yet again, but stuttered this time.

‘I fight you war. You war I fight. You war five years. I fight English war!’

‘Oh, you fought in the war!’ picked a man in the group. Morrow nodded to the speaker that was it.

‘Oh you’ve been to the West!’ smiled a lady.

Morrow looked at her and said, ‘To England!’

He turned to the rest. ‘Now Christian, my house. House of Morrow here. So, welcome!’

The whole group was quite amazed to find this warmth, this noble welcome in the very heart of town. For they’d toiled since they arrived there.

Impressed by their host’s talk, the guests suddenly put their hands together, cheering brightly.

‘Oh thank you! We’re quite pleased!’

‘You speak greatly sir!’

‘Ah, God’s peace has come to abide!’

‘Amen-amen...!’

Yes, things went so bright that evening.

Oki sat there, utterly impressed at her man’s wit. She’d just seen him strike a conversation with ‘Whitemen’. So she felt quite awed at his vastness.

She sat there just gushing at him... just him. She fancied how this father of her kid had met foreigners in that famed war.

How he’d stood shoulder to shoulder with people of white skin, and spoke their language to them. Then, came back home to marry her.

No, the tall elegant beauty hadn’t felt prouder. That Morrow was hers.

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