As the church service came to a close and she muttered the words of the Benediction, “May the grace of our Lord Jesus Christ, the love of God and the fellowship of the Holy Spirit be with us now and forever more”, along with the rest of the congregation, Nadine smiled. She had enjoyed the service and was looking forward to the … for lack of a better phrase, mini-reception afterwards, particularly the hot chocolate. So much better than the usual vending machine variety, it always hit the spot for her and fortified her for her fifteen-minute journey back to the McMillan Student Village.
The reception for all congregants, was one area in which church here varied from church in Nigeria. After every Sunday service at the Oxford Life Centre, church-goers were treated to free hot chocolate, coffee, biscuits and slices of cake. Nadine tried not to think of the probable outcome of the implementation of such a gesture at any church in Port-Harcourt … or any other part of Nigeria, for that matter. She tried not to shudder, as she clasped her palms around a mug, breathing out visibly cold air as warmth from the mug suffused her palms.
Picking up a slice of cake from a tray, Nadine smiled at another church member and saw more proof of a second noticeable difference between church here and in Nigeria – the way they dressed. Whereas people here … especially the non-Africans, tended to dress quite casually albeit neatly, getting dressed for church in Nigeria was like getting ready for a beauty pageant where everyone was both a contestant and a judge. She remembered how that a church service in Nigeria … more notably, in the unorthodox denominations – also known as the Pentecostal churches – were not complete without any incidents of a female congregant’s large gele perched on her head in such a way that it successfully blocked the view of an irritated member of the congregation. That person whose misfortune would have begun from the moment they chose to sit in that spot, would eventually get an ache from twisting their neck to see the preacher from their unfortunate position behind the gele wearer. Instances of women dressed inappropriately – mini-skirts, backless dresses and tops designed to expose the cleavage and the midriff – insisting on getting past strategically placed ushers in order to sit in the front pews, where they would be in the eye-line of the preacher, were also not unheard of, back home. That wasn’t to say that Nigerian worshippers were any less zealous or sincere; it was more that a Nigerian preparing for events – including church – was just as dedicated, as a Brit preparing for a Friday night out.
After exchanging pleasantries with a few people, Nadine put on her gloves and zipped up her coat before she stepped outside. She felt refreshed and light. She did not know if it was because the sermon had been particularly uplifting, or because she had discovered on Friday, that she had – to the mutual shock of her teacher – scored 100% on her last Sociology essay. She was grateful that it wasn’t windy today, and she was still feeling warm because of the hot chocolate she had drunk earlier. She was also starting to feel hungry but was not in the mood for the Sunday roast pork, which she knew would be served for lunch at McMillan. A week ago, she had found – quite by accident – a chicken and chip shop, whose roasted chicken and chips were … to die for. She was craving some, right now. She would probably pay for them, in the gym tomorrow; but today was Sunday and she deserved a day off. Even the good Lord had a day off on Sunday. Not that she was equating herself with Him – she just wanted one day, on which she could guiltlessly indulge.
“City Centre,” she said to the driver, as she got on the bus she had been waiting for, for ten minutes.
As soon as she settled in an empty seat, she extracted a book from her bag – Law and Society. Nadine smiled to herself. So much for a day of rest. True, she was on her way to get her roasted chicken and chips, but some things would never change.