Testimonies of Christ! 1. HE IS LORD INDEED! I was born into a Yoruba, Western Nigeria, Moslem polygamous family of 16. My dad at the head of this number had four wives with 11 children. He was an average Moslem, having gone to Mecca before I was born in 1966. Given our cultural background, my mom regularly consults what you may call witchdoctors, for one reason or the other. My family has a long lineage of practicing witchdoctors. At the last count I remember numbering the gods in the family to be about 21. Among these are, esu, osun, obatala, sango, ogun, ifa, ailala, ancestral spirits, and communal gods among others. Although I was not born in Nigeria, I grew up there, as my dad returned to the country in 1970 after over 20 years in different parts of West Africa. The first memory I have of rituals or traditional worship was when my dad died in 1972. I later learnt that he had been warned not to return home at the time he did. He spent 3 agonizing months on his sick bed without being able to move while his flesh disintegrate before his eyes. In fact, family members insisted he would have lived if he had not been stubborn. He was asked to relinquish ownership of some of his landed properties before his (spiritual) attackers could let go of him. He refused. Many years later I was stunned when my mom was relating the story of how he died to me. What I learnt in my Islamic studies was that Jesus did not die on the cross. But she told me that, my dad asked her not to curse those who were apparently responsible for his death, saying: after all, Jesus was killed in a similar fashion on the cross, despite the fact that he committed no wrong. I was shocked to hear that from my mum. For one she is not literate. And despite her visits to witchdoctors, she is a fervent Moslem who would not have any of her children enter Jaanam by becoming Christians. More important too was the circumstance of my father saying what he said. In my part of Yorubaland, if it is established that some people were responsible for a death, the dead persons spirit could be conjured to avenge his own death. To do this, a person close to him must be around at the time of death. You hold the lifeless head of the person in your hand and say what you have to say. My mom did this immediately after her husband died. To her astonishment, the man opened his eyes and asked her to forget about them and look after her children. He fell back dead in her lap again. Not content with his advise, she repeated the process of asking the dead to take revenge. He woke up again and admonished her to leave everything in the hands of God and fell back dead. She persisted a third time. It was on this third occasion that my dad mentioned the death of the Lord Jesus Christ on the cross. We are from Ijebu, a part of Yorubaland respected for its witchcraft. It was here that I cut my teeth as a child. I was there from 1970 when we returned from Liberia till 1977 when I completed my primary education and was ready for high school in Lagos. All through my years at Ijebu, I remember that it was one ritual after the other, at least to counter the negative ones that were being directed at us from right left and center. There were relations, of course, who fell along the way, like my dad. And there are others who to this day have had their lives turned upside down that, they are not only useless to themselves but to the society as well. I was almost always in one battle or the other. My mom usually take me round witchdoctors, both in and outside our area. It was in this state that I enrolled at an Islamic school to learn more about God, so he could defend me instead of all the money and items of sacrifice we have been taking to different places including churches. There are marks of incision (from covenants) still on my body that some of my friends find scary each time I discuss my past. Our Imams, in their different modes, tried their best for me, but all to no avail. I was advised to intensify personal prayers which I had been doing all along. It did not work. Two more initiations into the occult in late 1993 through early 1994 also failed to solve my crisis. I decided it was time to leave everything that is not purely Islamic. I bought a new copy of 99 Names of Allah which I have been using since my high school days. I supplemented this with pamphlets of Suratul Yasin, its khutbah and 3 other ones I cannot remember now. Sometimes I could be on the praying mat from 11pm till it is time for Subhi [early morning] prayers. But despite my renewed spiritual vigor, the problems I had been facing persisted. I contemplated suicide twice. You know, it was like, there was no hiding place. I remember one ritual of obatala (a Yoruba god) that I did. It was meant to appease those who were responsible for my problems. The witchdoctor called my mom and told her that I must have done something terribly wrong against some people. This was after 3 hours of fruitless efforts at appeasement! I also observed the same thing with one of my former Islamic Studies teachers at the height of my problems. He said I should on my own intensify efforts at prayers that there is nothing anyone could do for me. This is usually the situation with Yoruba witchdoctors. Whenever they encounter someone more powerful than them, they either hands off you or continue to milk you dry, even though they know there is nothing they can do about you case. In April 1994, I read a book on how to counter the effects of curses and spells, written by Bill Subritzky. It belonged to a Christian friend of mine. I read it. But, it is the same thing I have been criticizing that was there, confess Jesus as Lord and the other usuals, I thought to myself then. Mind you, I have been reading Ahmed Deedats books since my high school days. It formed one of the reasons why I always kept a Bible at the time - so I could have an easy reference when I engage Christians in argument. My April 1994 encounter with Subritzkys book was the turning point in my life. I confessed Jesus Christ as my Lord and Savior. With the Name of Jesus Christ on my lips, things started happening which I never thought could happen. It was a complete surprise. (The Bible says, whoever calls on the Name of the Lord shall be saved). Members of my family could hardly believe. I no longer need to patronize witchdoctors or their religious counterparts. Jesus Christ did it all. And without any ritual or sacrifice on my part! 2. The Testimony of Garba Adamu Assalamu alaikum. All thanks be to the Lord of the heavens, the earth and all creation. My name is Garba Adamu. My parents came for Katsina in northern Nigeria. I was born at Miango, near Jos in Plateau State. Writing this in 1982 I am fifty years old, but I cannot be certain for we reckoned by important events, not the calendar. When I was three years old, before I could talk very well, I entered Koranic school my only formal education. Little by little I learned to read and write the Arabic like script of Hausa, my mother tongue. After thirteen years I finished learning to read the whole Koran and went to look for work at the large missionary compound nearby. I asked the man in charge if he would have a job for me, but he burst out laughing because I was a very small teenager. Thank God, I was given a job sweeping floors and washing dishes. My employer saw that worked well and after a while I learned how to cook European food. I was able to bake bread, cookies and cakes, in fact anything they wanted. While I was still unmarried , one night I had a dream which was very special yet frightening. I saw the heavens open and an angel from God coming down with a message held tight in both hands. He came before me and said, God says to you,Take this message. With thanks, I took it in both hands. Right away, the angel ascended into heaven. I watched and saw a beautiful shining light. I was amazed. All this happened very quickly, in about one minute. In the morning, before I started work, I went to the office of my supervisor to tell her what had happened. Instead of telling me what the dream might mean, she did not take me seriously at all. At first I was very unhappy about this, but as time went by I began to forget about the dream. I was very much involved in my Muslim way of life. I married and after some years I married a second wife from among my own Hausa people. The missionaries did not like to employ a man with two wives and I was dismissed from my job. I began to earn my living as a market trader selling cloth. In my spare time I taught myself to read and write Hausa in the Roman script, which had been introduced by the Europeans who found our own Arabic script too difficult. At that time no-one else among the Hausa of my town could read and write the Roman script. I learnt with the help of the Hausa newspaper. Some Muslim preachers visited our town with the aim of establishing a branch of their Muslim Mission in our town. Being able to read and write I was made secretary of the Mission in our town. I was a zealous Muslim, so after a while I was made secretary for the Muslim Mission for the whole of our local government area. The state headquarters provided me with a motorbike. I was appointed to assist the local Imam then appointed to the state executive committee of the Muslim Mission. As my responsibilities had grown I was to be provided with a car for my work. Then one day the local Christian Pastor came and asked if I would help at their mission. They wanted someone to help teach Hausa to Europeans. It was only for six weeks. He asked me in such a way that I could not refuse, though I told the missionary lady in charge of the course that I wanted nothing to do with the Bible. In fact. if I so much as touched a Bible I would wash with soap and water. But this lady, Miss Oliver was not bothered at all. In fact she even helped me with my religion. On Fridays she would arrange transport for me to go to the mosque. She never criticised my faith or my way of life, except when I failed in my Muslim responsibilities. If I was engrossed in my work she would remind me it was time for prayer. When I said I was too busy she asked if I feared God. That was the strongest possible rebuke to me. We taught Hausa using the Roman script but one day Miss Oliver showed me a booklet in the Arabic script. It was about Jesus Christ, Isa Almasihu. I read it and kept on reading it again and again.I heard a voice in my heart asking why do I not want to read the Bible? So I went to work the next day and asked Miss Oliver if I could read the Bible for the students at their morning prayers. Language School started with daily prayers. I had refused to take part. Now this lady and all the students were really pleased to have me take part with them. I had never come across a European woman with such a character, so easy to get on with, so kind and calm. Before long I remembered my dream of many years before. I told her and asked what it could meant. She was not angry with me but told me that it seemed that God had an important message for me. This explanation pleased me a great deal. Miss Oliver was writing a book Jesus, Son of Mary. She was using the Bible and the Koran, writing in Hausa for Muslims and Christians. She asked me to read and comment on what she had written. I was to check the language. She wanted to know if the book really got her message across. When I read her chapter on the Trinity, she was especially interested to know if I understood what she had written. I said that I understood far more than she thought. I asked to pray, and prayed that God would remove the darkness from my understanding and show me his truth. I told Miss Oliver that I repented from my sin and trusted in Jesus Christ. Straight away I had a joy that I had never before experienced. I stopped my Muslim activities. When the leaders of the Muslim Mission realised that I was no longer active in their work they sent a letter calling me to attend. I neither went nor replied. My answer was according to our proverb, Keeping silent gives a message. They wanted to know why I had stopped my Muslim work and was helping Christians instead. Using occult ways, they tried to stop me teaching . I would feel as if something was falling on top of me. I would break into a sweat and feel dizzy. The students would hold me, help me lie down, then fan me while they prayed for me. I would be taken home to rest while the students kept on praying. After a while the evil that was being used against me was stopped. Later I heard that someone gave the Muslim Mission a tape of what I was teaching. Like Miss Oliver I had nothing derogatory to say about Islam, nor any fault to find with the customs my own Hausa people. I believe that most have never heard the Gospel in a way that they can really understand. All too often the life of the messenger has spoilt the reception of the message. Miss Oliver left Nigeria not long after I became a follower of Jesus Christ. I have continued in the faith, employed by a Nigerian church teaching Hausa to newcomers to the country.
Posted on: Wed, 16 Oct 2013 09:30:09 +0000
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