Remembering Apostle Debrah Eunice Osagiede: The Lady Who Taught me How to Pray.

It came by accident. I was robbed. And in the process of seeking revenge, I found myself contending with expulsion. Three petitions were filed against me. The first was filed in the office of the University Registrar, the second was with the Director of Student Affairs and the third was before the Dean of the Law Faculty. The hearings were on a Friday, Monday, and Wednesday. My mind told me to go to the village to discuss with my sister. But my heart said no. I don't want her to cry. And to Benin City, I went, to meet with my cousin, Sunny. He attends a white garment church somewhere in Benin City. And he is a good recipe for my anguish, so I thought.

I got to Benin City on time. And Sunny was home from work when I arrived. I repeated myself over and over again about what happened. And he assured me that all will be well and his Pastor will take care of me and my problem. We arranged to meet with the Pastor the next day at about 6 p.m. He promised to pick me up at about 5.p.m.

In the afternoon on the day of the arranged meeting, Bendel Television or Edo Television was doing its weekly telecast of two hours paid religious program, featuring about four different pastors. Each of them has 30 minutes. I was watching without following. My mind was afar, reminiscing on the sacrifice I made accepting the admission to study law at Ekpoma instead of traveling to London, England.

As my mind was wandering aimlessly, came this gorgeous lady on the screen. She was the third pastor to preach. I have never seen her before on TV or heard about her. Her name was Eunice Osagiede. For the first five minutes, I kept on asking myself, what is this beautiful lady doing on the pulpit, "I beg make she go set up a beauty salon and leave the preaching job for men," I whispered out loud. (God forgive me). And I kept on flipping through the pages of my huge Guardian newspaper, not concentrating on any story. Then like a bolt from the blue, the Preacher hit a high note that rhyme with me. I stood up transfixed in amazement, motionless.

She said two things that changed my life forever. It was as if God send her to minister to me that very moment. She said why do you have to patronize fortune tellers to create fear in your mind about who is troubling you. What is the difference between going to Pastors to foretell your problems or going to a traditional native doctor to play oracle for you? The only difference, if at all, is in the process. One is holding the Bible while he or she indulges in prophecies, and the other is throwing cowries on the floor. If you cannot patronize the native doctor, why would you patronize the other?

Hearing that, I went for the refrigerator to grab a bottle of coke and sat down. She was not done yet. She said what you have to do is take your problems to God by yourself. You don't need me and you don't need anybody to talk to God for you. The pastor doesn't know your problems. I don't know about your problems. I can only guide you on how to pray, how to study your Bible, and how to connect with God. That's my responsibility as a Pastor. To teach the gospel and bring repentance to Christ. All that is required of you is faith. Faith. If you have to go into your room and lock your door and pray to God, do it. Talk to Him from your heart. You can do it. The power is in your mouth. Use it.

When she was done, I grabbed my briefcase and headed for the staircase. I went straight to my cousin's workshop to tell him I saw an angel. The moment he saw me, he looked at his watch. I said you don't have to look at your watch. I have changed my mind. I am going back to school right now. He asked in amazement, why? Is there any problem? I replied no. There is something I have to do in school this evening. He pleaded with me to be patient and go with him. I insisted on going back to school. Eventually, he relented and gave me some money for my transport back to school.

I got to Ekpoma on time and went straight to the Library to take care of the missed lectures. As nightfall approaches, I left the campus and went home. I sat down, closed my eyes to do a recast of the video over and over again in my mind. I knelt down and pray my heart out. That was my first time praying alone and for something. Apart from the prayers in churches, I have never done anything like that in my life.

My first hearing was before the Registrar of the University, Dr, Omonbude. And the second hearing was before the Director of Students Affairs, Dr. Edokpayi. The first two hearings came and both of them were dismissed. To my amazement, something dramatic happened at the office of the Director of Student Affairs.

I was ushered into his office at the exact time slated for the hearing. As I walked in, he was already holding the petition. He looked at me and shouted, no, it can't be you. Mr. Aidaghese, what are you doing here? I looked on, not knowing what to say. Mr. Aidaghese, he repeated again, you of all person, in this campus, using cult members to harass another student and his entire family? His last statement stunned me to no end: "If you are a cultist and I don't know about it, that means I've failed in my capacity as the Director of Student Affairs in this University."

After hearing that, I had enough courage to talk. I started by greeting him. Good afternoon sir. You did not fail in your duty as the Director of Student Affairs in this school, because I am not a cultist and I did not go to the petitioner's house with cult members. My cousin and another student in the same house with me accompanied me to the Petitioner's residence for my safety. That was it, not to harass or fight.

He asked if I am aware that the entire family moved out of the house? I didn't know about that, sir. Adding that I met the Mom at the Police Station a few days ago. As I was still talking he was already squeezing the petition. He asked if I have met with the Registrar. I told him yes and he dismissed the petition. He said, okay, this hearing is over. The case is dismissed and you are free to go.

The final hearing was before the Dean of the Law Faculty. That night, I revisited the Pastor's video and pleaded with God to continue His miracle and protection upon me.

The Dean of the Law Faculty, Professor Aihe is an Ekpoma man. The Faculty Officer, who is like the Chief of Staff of the Faculty is also an Ekpoma indigene. And I was scared. The crime was not a joking matter. The allegation was that I forced the entire family out of their private home, using cult members. Will the Faculty Officer consider the case frivolous and dismiss it just as the Registrar and the Director of Student Affairs did? That was a question I couldn't answer.

As I walked into the Faculty office, the Petitioner was already at the reception, waiting. He was a 200L Law Student. We've been told that the Faculty Officer will hear the case. He is an elderly guy and highly respected in the Law Faculty. They took us in and he was ready to hear the case. The Petitioner was the first to speak. His story was that I accosted him at the Law Library and accused him of wearing a stolen shirt. Adding, I also came to his house twice to harass him and his family members. And later contacted the Police who came and arrested his younger brother.

When did Mr. Aidaghese come to your house, before or after the arrest of your brother? Before the arrest. So, he didn't come after the arrest? He did not. Did he come alone?. The first time he and his friend accompanied me home from the campus. The second time, he came with two other students? Two other students? Yes, sir. When did he come with the gang or the cult members? The Petitioner didn't answer the last question.

His case was brief. The Faculty Officer looked at me and asked, do you understand the weight of the allegations against you? I replied, yes, sir. Okay, go ahead and tell me your side of the story.

Sir, I went to his house twice as he rightly stated. So, I have nothing to add to his story.

That's okay. What about the shirt and the altercation at the Library.

When I saw him with the shirt, I went to him and told him politely that the shirt he is wearing is mine. I told him upfront that I am not accusing him of participating in the robbery. All I wanted from him is how he got the shirt. I want my school fees, my briefcase, and the value of my stolen properties.

He told me that the shirt belongs to his younger brother who is a student in the Faculty of Arts. When I met with the junior brother, I pleaded with him as well to tell me how he got the shirt. But he wasn't forthcoming as well. The next day, I went to the Police station to file a complaint against the two of them and the younger brother was arrested.

Is that it? The FO asked me. And I replied in the affirmative. The FO said, this black suit that I am wearing, I bought it about ten years ago. If you place it among other hundred black suits, I can easily identify it. Be that as it may, seeing your shirt with another student, doesn't give you the right to take the law into your own hand or the audacity to invade his residence, and forcing the entire family out of the house as he alleged. Do you understand that, Mr. Aidaghese? And I replied yes, sir. He said okay, I will brief the Dean and get back to you in a few days. You guys can go.

As we were passing through the Secretary's office, her phone rang and she answered. Then she said, Mr. Aidaghese, Oga wants to see you. I said we've just finished with him. She said he wants you back right away. I took a deep breath and followed the Secretary as she opened the door for me again. As I closed the door behind me, he said sit down my son. Hearing the word "my son," tears dropped down my cheek. He said it is over. Clean your face - pointing at the paper towel on his desktop - and listen to what I am going to say. I grabbed one sheet and wiped away my tears.

Then, he began. I have been here as the Faculty for many years and I have seen many students come and go. If not for this case, there is no way the Dean or myself would have known that a child like you is a part of the student body of this Faculty. Most often, we focus only on students we perceived are likely to be problematic or who are problematic. But we don't care to concentrate on the real gentlemen we have. Mr. Aidaghse, I believe everything you said. I also believe the shirt is yours. And I believe you didn't go to his house with cult members. So, the petition against you is dismissed.

But there is something I want you to do for me and for your family. As you are working out of this office, I want you to go straight to the Police Station and withdraw the case. I don't want you to fail and I don't want you to miss a class because of this case. Do you understand that? I replied, yes sir.

Then he asked if I have enough white shirts and ties for your class, I said, yes sir. One of my classmates gave me five longs sleeves shirts and three ties already. Who must that be? And for the first time, I saw him smile. I replied, Mr. Lateef Ajayi. He said, the gentleman with the Beetle car? I replied yes. What about black suits? I have one left, sir. He said you can wear any suit or long sheet shirts to class until further notice. If you need enough shirts you let me know. The case is over and I will brief the Dean accordingly. As I was going for the door, he repeated: go straight to the Police Station and drop the case. I bow my head to that, thanking him once again.

As I walked out of the Faculty office, the Petitioner and two ladies were waiting for me outside, not knowing the case is over. One of the ladies, as I was told later, is a lecturer in one of the Departments in Sciences and she is the elder sister of the Petitioner. She looked at me and said, you think you are a tough guy, I will use everything I have to ensure that you are kicked out of this school. I looked at her and said: I don't have a godfather, God is my God Father. I wanted to tell her the case is over, but I demurred.

A lot happened after this case. The lady and I became friends as well as her younger brother (the English student who arrested). The Petitioner? His case is totally bizarre as you will see later.

A few months after the case was over, I bumped into the Petitioner's younger brother, the English student who voluntarily agreed to pay for the crime he did not commit. We greeted each other and I told him that I knew he was not the owner of the shirt, but his brother. He said, well it one of those things. I asked about his Mom. He told me that his Mom died a few weeks ago after a brief illness. Hearing that, I was moved and expressed my condolences to him. I told him that his Mom reminded me of my Mom. The last time we met at the Police Station she pleaded with me to drop the case. And I told her that it is not my fault that you volunteered to go to trade places with your elder brother. The guy didn't say much and he didn't exhibit a hostile demeanor, either. We shook hands and parted ways.

About a week later, it was her big sister, the Lecturer Isaw. I have never seen a lady as beautiful as that woman since my matriculation. It was just the two of us. As we walk by each other, it appears she didn't see me. And I pretended I didn't see her, too. We didn't say a word to each other. After a few seconds, I didn't hear the sound of her shoes on the ground again behind me. Then, I stopped, looking back, I saw her not moving, but staring at me. She is older than me, so I must give her respect.

I walked back to meet her and said, good morning, Ms (mentioning her last name). And she was still staring at me, not saying a word. I said, you are a very special person, and I don't like having trouble with people like you. I said something I don't want to repeat here. As I pause, she said, who are you? Hearing that, I pretended I didn't get the gist of her question. I said Madam, it seems you have forgotten me, I am Alex Aidaghese. She said stop it, of course, I know you are Alex Aidaghese. Who are you, she asked again.

Now, acting from a position of strength, I said, okay, I remember telling you the last time we met at the Law Faculty that I have no godfather and that God is my God Father. That's who I am. God is my God Father. And I am untouchable. My hands are clean. Always clean. I won't initiate a fight. But, when one comes, I don't run and I won't relent, until my adversary surrender. She said I can see that.

Later in the discussion, she said, my younger brother told me that the two of you met a few days and how you felt hearing the death of my Mom. And I said, yes, the news of her death troubles me greatly. Adding, I would have attended her funeral if I knew beforehand. She said for the little I know about you now, I trust you would have attended. Surprisingly, she apologized for not advising her brother (the Law student) to be forthcoming with me about how he got the shirt the first time I came over to their house.

Before we parted ways, she asked about the three petitions and how I handle them. I told her God did. She said I believe you, there is nothing He can't do. And she walked away.

What actually happened was that the 200L Law student who I saw with the shirt was already holding a position in the Law Student Association. Knowing the precarious position that he was in if it is reported that he was arrested for or prosecuted for being in possession of stolen goods, he decided to approach his immediate younger brother to claim ownership of the shirt. His brother did and paid for it, spending about a month in Police custody.

But God has a unique way of dispensing judgment. The law student failed the final exams and repeated 200L. That was not all. His class was the last class to spend four years for the LLB program before the National University Commission increases it to five years of pre-Nigerian law school. So, when he repeated 200L, he automatically becomes a classmate of the first class of the five-year program. Meaning, all things being equal, he will be spending six years for his LL.B program before proceeding to the Nigerian Law School.

Anyway, when I was cleared by the Registrar, the Director of Student Affairs, and the Faculty Officer of the Law Faculty, I traveled to Benin City to attend the Church of the Super Preacher who saved me. When I got to Benin City, I asked about her and her church, and a family friend told me that her church is more like a women's ministry and she has no building yet. Not many people knew about her at the time outside of the GRA axis in Benin City.

My plan was to tell this story as a testimony in her church one day when I am back in Nigeria, but I waited too long. She did not only save me, but she also taught me how to talk to God and believe in the power of prayer. When I reminisce on the journey so far, surviving all the temptations and the victory over satanic forces and enemies of progress, I can only thank the Beautiful Lady Pastor who introduced me to Jesus Christ in the true sense of it and made me believe I can talk to God myself. And He will respond positively to my request. That has enriched me with unquantifiable confidence in what I do, say, or write, guided of course by the legal maxim that he who comes to equity must come with a clean hand. Truth. May her soul rest in peace. Amen.

- December 08, 2020