The Jailbird Episode 11 and 12

by Aaron Ansah-Agyeman

Episode 11

It is Sunday, and the Central Auditorium of the Golgotha Heights International Church is filled to capacity, as usual. It is a huge church, a sprawling three-story edifice that rises majestically into the air with its finery and proud lines. It also has an underground pool area for baptismal sessions.

Main church activities take place on the ground floor. The second floor is an equipped conference centre, whilst the topmost floor is taken by the various administrative offices. 

A high wall divides it from the other half of the plot where another beautiful building, the Mission Manse, is located. That is the home of the much revered Reverend Brand Bawa.

The church compound has a recreational centre housed in a structure separated from the main church building, comprising a restaurant, an internet hub, a research library and a beautiful garden.

The car park is a well-demarcated area which is also a huge two-story construction.

That particular Sunday, the church auditorium is crammed as the congregation listens, enthralled by the powerful message of the man of God. He is sixty-four years old, medium-built, with broad shoulders crammed into an excellent grey suit and white shirt. His tie is a grey luxurious and expensive strip with dots that match his suit to perfection. He is standing on a raised platform, the background wall decorated with still images which depict Jesus Christ’s ascension to heaven.

There are beautiful deep sofas behind him which are occupied by some elders of his church and his wife, Mrs. Lois Bawa.

In the congregation are Effe Kedem, her parents and Junior. Steve Hollison is present, and so are Elaine Boateng and her husband, Jonathan Afful, who is a Director at FINE GOJU, the current best GojuFist company in the country. They are all long-time members of the church.

Also present are Reverend Brand Bawa’s two older children, Diana and Stan, both of them married. Sitting behind Effe is Eyram Kedem, Effe’s twin sister who is a medical doctor.

The congregation looks on with bated breath as Reverend Bawa nears the climax of his sermon. By the most stupendous of all coincidences, he is preaching about one of Jesus’ parables, The Prodigal Son, and he is telling them about the power of loving one another in a pure way that enabled the heart to forgive wrongs totally. His choice of message is surprising Effe, but then she reasons that maybe Chris has gone home to his parents, and by some twist in divine intervention, father and son have made up the bad blood that has for a long time characterized their relationship.

All around the auditorium, hands are raised to the expensive ceiling, and hands are clutching hearts in total obeisance to God as the congregation soaked up the message with total dedication, and some even have tears in their eyes. The cries of ‘amen’ and ‘hallelujah’ are paramount as the reverend delivers his sermon.

And then, the huge glass doors at the entrance of the auditorium slide open, and a tall, muscled, handsome, mean-faced man casually walks through them and comes to a halt. He is still wearing the pair of black jeans, checked shirt and loafers he came out of prison with.  And then, casually, he begins to walk down the aisle towards the glass pulpit where his father is preaching.

The man of God, holding a microphone, has raised a Bible and screaming out the divine blessings of forgiveness when he sees his youngest son walking toward him. He chokes on the last word, and remains frozen, his eyes almost bulging out of their sockets with total shock and disbelief.

For a twinkling, a collective murmur of concern ripples around the huge dome as the members look at him, sure that the man is having some sort of attack. His fixed stare, however, finally sends the message, and slowly heads begin to turn as it becomes evident that the man of God is rather being affected by the entrance of the new man.

Most of the people on the upper terraces facing the doors are standing up, some craning their necks to catch a glimpse of the man whose appearance has evidently disturbed their revered pastor so much.

The murmuring and gasps intensify as Chris Bawa is recognized, and the information relayed quickly around the auditorium that this is indeed the pastor’s own prodigal version of sons, the one who has been in prison, the jailbird who brought so much disgrace to his family.

Effe, who has been whispering to a sleepy and tired Junior that service will be over soon for them to head home, is the last to experience the intense and charged atmosphere in the room. She hears Eyram’s quick intake of breath behind her, and a second later, Eyram speaks in a shocked voice.

“Good grief! Is that Chris? Goodness me!”

Effe looks around instantly and sees Chris halfway to the pulpit.

Jonathan Afful, a powerful compact man with close-cropped hair, has been rubbing Elaine’s inner thigh as she glares at him fiercely to stop. When he hears Eyram’s voice, he also turns in his seat and quickly drops his hand from Elaine’s thigh.

“Hey look, a live depiction of the prodigal bastard parable! This is gonna be damn interesting, what the fuck! Gaddemn!” he mutters with a mischievous drawl.

“Jon! You’re in church! Stop spewing your profane drivel!” Elaine says sharply.

Steve’s face instantly flares into lines of stunned incredulity and intense dislike.

“This guy never learns, does he?” he grates out angrily.

Junior, intrigued by the turning of heads, stands up, cranes his neck, sees his father, and shouts in an excited and happy voice.

“Daddyyyyyyyy! Mom, it’s Daddy! Daddyyyyyyyy!”

He tries to go around Effe and meet his father but Effe, suddenly uncomfortable with the quick stares, holds him back tightly.

Up on the platform, Mrs. Lois Bawa stands up and her trembling fingers touch her lips as she stares numbly at her last child and her whole body visibly shakes. Her throat dries up instantly.

“Chris? Oh, dear Lord!” she whispers quaveringly.

Stan Bawa, sitting with his wife and daughter in the first row, turns first and then with a little he gets to his feet. His wife tries to hold him back, but he shrugs free and moves to intercept his younger brother’s progress toward the pulpit, but Reverend Bawa quickly puts down his Bible, overcoming his shock, and speaks sharply.

“Stan!”

Stan Bawa pauses and turns toward his father. Compact, short and powerfully built, just like his father, quite different from his younger brother, the tall and extremely handsome Chris Bawa. Chris is the only one who took their mother’s graceful height and her elegant, beautiful features. He was the only one who took after their mother.

“Yes, Dad?” Stan says in a voice choked with anger.

“Sit down, son,” Reverend Bawa says calmly. “Let him come.”

Stan glowers at his brother hotly, and then he reluctantly sits down again.

Chris’ expression does not change in the face of so much animosity, especially from his older brother. He continues walking calmly, reaches the platform, and then mounts the short steps toward his father, who turns sideways to face his prodigal son fully. His mother walks slowly to stand by her husband. Her eyes, filled with shock and disbelief a moment ago, are now furious as she glares at her son.

“Chris, Chris, Chris!” she says in an acidic voice. “Always a rotten apple! How can you do this to your father, Chris? Couldn’t you have waited? When I heard from Mrs. Bediako that you went to their house I was sure you would come over to the Mission Manse. Did you have to do it like this, at service, with the whole congregation present?”

Chris looks at his mother with sad eyes.

“Yes, mother. Right here!” he says bitterly. “I was pretty sure that you would take your husband’s side, as usual, and support him for selling my house.”

That statement hurt the woman, and suddenly the angry glint in her eyes dulls. Unfortunately, the man of God’s microphone is still turned on, and the words of mother and son are heard by the whole congregation, rendering the auditorium silent. The man of God looks at his son with a calculated expression, and suddenly he holds out his arms towards Chris, and when he speaks his voice is tender and forgiving.

“I was informed that you were released from prison on a presidential pardon. Come into my arms, son! Embrace your father who has missed you so!”

Chris does not move. Instead, a steely look comes into his eyes as he appraises his father.

“Cut the bullshit, father,” he says icily.

There is a collective gasp of shock and horror in the auditorium.

“Chris! Are you out of your mind?” Lois Bawa almost screams, alarmed by the aggression in Chris’ voice. He looks at his mother and fixes her with the coldest stare from his soul.

“You really think if I had come to your house, your husband would’ve welcomed me back with open arms?” he asks, and his voice has dropped several tones lower past ice. His mother trembles and her hands are tight angry fists at her sides, but she does not reply.

She is horrified inside at the sight of her son. He had been fleshy before going to prison, but he has changed so completely. He is all brawn and sheer muscle now, a perfect image of a man, more handsome than ever. But an alien emotion roars within her, a mother’s love that never completely dies, and her heart bleed at the kind of hard life this boy had in prison to turn him into what he is now.

“If that is the way it is, Chris, then there’s nothing to say,” the reverend says in a calm voice. “Why are you here? Is this visit about your house?”

“Yes, sir. My house. You sold it and I want to know why?” Chris says coldly.

The silence is so thick around the auditorium that a dropping pin would have sounded like a bomb. The man of God looks at his son and shakes his head sadly.

“Well, you hurt that poor little girl when your car crashed into her because you were high on drugs, my son,” he says calmly as if addressing a sulking child. “Secondly, you beat up your uncle very badly, and he was also on admission at the hospital!”

There is a loud murmuring of approval. Accusing and angry fingers are pointed at this sinful prodigal son who has come to church to mess up the life of their revered Pastor. Cruel tongues wag rather viciously all around, and as Effe listens, her heart bleeds with a mixture of humiliation and anger at Chris. 

Episode 12

Chris takes another step toward his father, and the auditorium is suddenly hushed again. They can all see clearly that he is very angry, and very hurt, and for a moment it looks as if he is going to attack his father. Effe is so afraid that she grips her wrist tightly and speaks under her breath.

“Please, Chris. Please no, don’t do it!”

“And what has all that got to do with you selling my house?” he asks tightly.

 “What has it got to do with it? Is that what you asked? I used the proceeds from the sale of the house to meet the medical bills of these two persons you hurt! Do you know that poor girl is still in a wheelchair? Do you know she’ll never walk again? I give her money every month, Chris my son! That is the responsibility you left me. And I’m a responsible man! So yes, I sold your house to take care of the mess you left behind!” The reverend throws up his arms in a gesture of exasperation and answers.

Once again there are murmurs of approval from the congregation.

“Is that the reason why you also threw my things out of the house? My clothes and everything that belonged to me?” Chris asks coldly. “People took them away, I’m told. Was that also to pay for medical bills, sir?”

The room is instantly hushed again.

Eyes now turn to the man of God as the congregation suddenly realizes that dumping his son’s belongings outside had, for a fact, been a bad thing to do. Reverend Brand Bawa stares at his son’s hurt face woodenly, and he says nothing for a moment. That is new to the congregation, and it staggers some of them because their pastor has never been known to lack words to address any situation. Mrs. Lois Bawa suddenly sees the pity on the faces of some people in the congregation, and her mind processes it for what it is: a negative effect on her husband’s ministry. She speaks suddenly and furiously, raising her voice so that her words can be succinctly heard.

“Your father didn’t throw out your things, Chris! I did! I was sickened by the atrocities you committed, not only against my brother, your own uncle but in harming that poor girl too! I was hurt, I was angry, and I was humiliated. God forgive me, but in that instant, I was not a pastor’s wife, definitely not a Christian. I was a confused, grieving mother! I’m sorry now! I wish I hadn’t done that, but I couldn’t help it then!”

Commiserative murmurings fill the auditorium, and once more the anger is directed at Chris, and the reverend breathes a sigh of relief, saved by his wife.   Chris looks at his parents for a long time, and then he speaks quietly.

“You have done well.”

His words, though soft, are like showers of molten rock that make his mother wince inwardly. She is stunned, and for a moment tears glitter in her eyes. Chris then reaches into his pocket and takes out twenty, two and one cedi notes. He drops them into the glass offertory bowl on the platform.

He looks at his parents again.

“You sold my house. You threw my stuff out. I just put all the money on me into your offertory bowl, father. Now, as I stand here, I don’t have any money on me. All I have are the clothes I’m wearing. They are the clothes I was wearing when I went to prison. Like I said, you have done well.”

He descends the platform. Every eye is on him, mostly filled with anger and hatred. Junior, aware that his mother’s attention is now focused on what is happening, suddenly slips from her grasp. He picks up a lunch bowl on the floor and runs towards his father.

“Junior! Come back, Junior!” Effe calls frantically, but Junior is already running down the aisle toward his father. Stan Bawa is up on his feet again and looks at his brother with venom.

“God forgive me, Chris! But I hate you! I really hate you!” he utters with bristling fury.

Junior, who has reached them, looks at his uncle with sudden tears in his eyes.

“Why do you hate my Daddy, Uncle Stan?” he asks tearfully. “Is he not your own brother?”

His little voice, loud and clear, carries through the church, and its innocent hurt tones cut through most hearts, reminding them suddenly that they are in church, and they are supposed to be loving and forgiving Christians.

Stan looks down at Junior, immediately contrite.

“Oh, Junior, I’m sorry, son! I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

He reaches out to hold the boy, but Junior shies away from him, and then he stands in front of his broken father with a tearful but determined expression on his face.

“I don’t hate you. I really, really, really love you, Daddy!”

Chris cannot speak for a moment because he can feel the tears bubbling somewhere deep within him, and stinging his eyes. He is strong against the hatred of his family, but his son’s brave love is threatening to break his back, and for a tick, his legs almost cannot support him. He nods and steps quickly past his son. He tries to walk on, but his son runs after him, shouting, crying, and begging him to stop.

Chris stops, turns and falls on one knee in a swift motion. Junior runs into his father’s arms and embraces him tightly. Chris Bawa crushes his son to his chest and buries his face in his son’s neck. There is a painful lump in Chris’ throat as the tears struggle fiercely to fall, but he grits his jaws and breathes hard to stem the flow of tears. But his eyes are reddened and wet all the same as he looks across the shoulders of his son. Effe, who has followed her son, stops and looks at them with sudden tears rolling down her face.

Chris gently pushes back from his son. The boy reaches out and wipes tears from his father’s cheeks, and then he picks up his lunch box from the floor, pulls up the lid, and brings out a big sandwich and a sachet of Fanmilk which he proffers to his father.

“This is for you, Daddy,” the little boy says in a trembling voice.

Chris smiles and swallows painfully. He takes the sandwich and breaks it into two halves. He hands half to his son and then he takes the Fanmilk.

“There’s a problem, Champ,” Chris says lovingly. “How’re we gonna share this one? It’s soft if I cut it up….”

“Really, really, really big problem!” Junior says with a tremulous sigh and a relieved giggle. Chris laughs gently then.

“You know what? You keep the Fanmilk, Champ. I’ll eat the sandwich,” he says, but the boy shakes his head vehemently.

“No, Daddy. I want you to have it. I have a lot at home,” he says urgently. 

Chris hesitates, and then he bites the tip of the Fanmilk, sips, takes a bite of the sandwich, and then he stands up and looks tenderly down at his son.

“I love you, Champ,” Chris Bawa says. “I love you hard.”

Junior nods wordlessly as great tears fall down his face again. The sight of his son so emotionally affected breaks Chris’ heart, and he turns round quickly and leaves the church auditorium. Effe tries to hold Junior, but the boy shrugs her hands aside and walks back rather dejectedly toward his seat, swinging his lunchbox absent-mindedly against his thigh.

Effe looks at her hurting son for a moment, and then she walks quickly toward the entrance, apparently going after Chris Bawa. She sees him walking towards the entrance, and she runs after him.

When Chris walked out of the main gates of the church he sees Barbara’s car parked across the street, and she is leaning against it. He stops and gazes at her with surprise and incomprehension for a moment. She is dressed in a fetching white skirt and blouse suit with a black inner vest, and she looks very beautiful indeed. He pushes the rest of the sandwich into his mouth and drinks all the Fanmilk, and then he dumps the empty sachet into a dustbin near the entrance. He crosses the street and walks towards Barbara.

She smiles into his face.

“Hello, Chris,” she says in a gentle voice.

“Are you, perchance, stalking me?” Chris asks with a forced smile.

She smiled again, gently and sweetly.

“No, Chris. I’m a member of the church too. When I saw you in that drama with your father, I suspected you might eventually need a lift somewhere, so I drove out to wait for you.”

Chris takes a shuddering breath, and a look of sheer dejection crosses his face. Barbara stops smiling immediately, and she suddenly put her arms around his neck and hugs him tightly. Chris holds her, grateful for her warmth and her kind heart, and for being there for him at that particular moment.

He hugs her back tightly, and when Effe comes out through the main gates, she sees them like that. She gasps and stops suddenly, looking at them without breathing for a moment. They do not see her as they eventually part and enter the car, and a moment later they drive away.

Effe recognizes the painful thuds of her heart, and on her face is a stunned, incredulous look.

She has not felt this way in a very long time!

She has totally forgotten how it feels like to have those jealous bouts! She exhales shudderingly, and as she turns away there is a little furrow of worry on her beautiful forehead.

She knows at that stage of her life that the last thing she should be feeling is jealousy, especially over Chris, the man who humiliated and hurt her so, the man who ripped her heart to pieces!

“I’m not going to allow you to do this to me, Chris! Not again, not ever!” she says fiercely.

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