An unforgiving god

I stood outside the house starring at nothing in particular with my hands akimbo.
There I was happily rocking my short-cropped hair and wondering if today will be the day I pass a comb through it or just do my usual finger brushing thingny after my morning shower when this young lady began inching towards me.
I had prepared my mind to think of the simplest and shortest possible route to give to her as I assumed that she was in need of directions – why else would a normal and sane looking person be going out of her way to approach someone gazing at noting in particular so early in the morning?
(when in a bank, I prepare to share my pen, give the date or help a little old lady fill her bank teller, when wearing ‘hundred’ inch heels I prepare to break a possible fall as a result of my erm... no idea and when walking alone after 9pm on an eerie road I set my legs to flight mode. Any strange entity come too close to me, I make like Usain St. Leo Bolt and…!!).

The young lady touched me ever so gently and questioned in a slow whisper “ sister, na your husband follow you go abi na your boyfriend?” I gasped and tried to prevent my jaw from dropping to the floor. Now that was one question I did not foresee.

After a brief exchange with me answering her questions and giving my candid advice, I bid her farewell and watched as she scurried out and away from my line of vision.
The young lady was from either kalabari kingdom, akwaibom or somewhere in the riverine parts of the south – south of Nigeria (I wasn't paying too much attention to what she said but remember saying "so you sabi swim wella abi?").
It turns out she has been nursing a craving to have her full head of unadulterated virgin hair cut but was not permitted to do so.
When she spotted me, she saw a kindred spirit and decided to share her plight.

In her village, a woman was only allowed to cut her hair if she was in mourning.
To do otherwise, she would need to tender either a husband or a boyfriend who will accompany her to the venue and proceed to tell the barber, cutter or hair stylist that he was aware of her said intentions, was in approval and had granted his permission. Or else, someone will face the consequence!

Isn’t tradition wonderful?!

Reflecting on this brought another possibly unrelated incidence to mind.

Sometime in the past, Uselu market in Benin City, Edo state experienced a fire accident.
During the commotion, there were a whole lot of looting, plundering and general misdemeanors.
In anger, one of the affected people, an African traditional worshiper cried to her god (small letter g) and placed a curse on peoples were in possession of stolen goods.
Immediately word of her deeds got around, people started returning goods, even goods not stolen from Uselu market!
The returned items amounted to a huge pile.
The pile was there for a long time as the real owners were afraid of accidentally taking an item that was not theirs and in the process end up with a raptured belly, rotten feet and something to do with the tongue (can’t recall the details of the curse again, it really was a while back).
I can’t remember what happened at the end of 'the day' or how the pile varnished but I know I was in awe for a very long time.
Maybe I still am, who knows?

‘Officially’ in Nigeria today, there are more Christians and Muslims than traditional worshippers and native doctors (juju priests) but there is less honesty, justice and fair play.
It is not only disturbing but unsettling as the holy books describe traditional worship as devilish and wicked yet most of these 'evil people' show more respect for human life, reward for labor and the laws of their land.
Are these robbers, extorters, murderers and kidnappers not either Christians or Muslims?
I hate to ask this, but I am quite confused so I'd ask anyway.
Our darling chairmen, senators, governors and leaders of the land. You who are responsible for the Progress, Safety, Security and Life of the citizens of this great nation?
Where lies your faith?