It was the shoes that Petra noticed first. Low-heeled, polished pair of black shoes.The kind of shoes one wore to a teaching job, or as a teller in a bank. Coupled with the medium-length black skirt and button-down white shirt, the woman had an almost severe air about her. The dressing stirred curiosity in Petra. The travellers who came around these parts were usually dressed as though they had no thought for their clothing, their eyes being on the journey ahead. The woman, Petra observed, had had the time to colour-coordinate her outfit.
She turned to face her wares. Her stall was the first in a row of shops that faced the park. The other shops sold almost identical goods – beverages, drinks and snacks, items that could keep the travelers busy as they waited at the layover. Angelina, on her left, was already hailing passengers, inviting them to buy her meat pies and eggrolls. Philomena was more subtle; she brought out seats and played songs to lure the passengers to her shop. The vendors looked out for these sorts of passengers. It amused them to no end watching the passengers try to remember how to haggle, how to pay with cash, how to calculate their change; skills they had no need of in the places they had come from.
“Is that Nescafe?”
Petra looked up and realized that the surprise she heard in the woman’s voice was on her face too, in her eyes, and in the slight quiver of her finger pointing to the rolls of Nescafe sandwiched between other beverages hanging on the wall. It was the woman with the shoes.
“Yes.”
“You make instant coffee here?” The surprise had stretched a few centimeters. Petra just smiled.
“Can I have some, please?”
Petra beckoned her into the shop. She went into the inner room where the kettle was perpetually boiling and mixed the Nescafe with milk and sugar. She did not know if the woman wanted some bread with her drink.
When she carried the tray out, she found the woman reclining on the seat. She had kicked off her shoes. Her eyes were closed, her hands clasped and rested on her belly. Even in the resting position, Petra could see lines of worry snaking all over her face.
Petra stood still, waiting for something to break the moment. The woman’s eyes flew open. She smiled.
“You cannot believe how long it has been since I walked into a shop to purchase coffee.” She smacked her lips after a sip. And then there must have been something in Petra’s face because she laughed and explained,“I grew up drinking coffee. There was just something about its smell that calmed me.” Her hand hung in the air when she said ‘something about it.’ Like she was looking to pluck that something from the air. “That was before the government said it was unhealthy, something about the sun’s rays that get absorbed by the stalks, causing cancer. These days what they sell tastes sterile.”
The woman looked around.
“This place looks …rural.”
“Rural?” Petra repeated. Her eyes travelled down the row of shops standing stoically facing the open area. From where she sat, she could see the Hyundai bus that transported the passengers. It gleamed, without a speck of dust on it, like it did not break a sweat covering the long distance.
The woman laughed.
“I didn’t mean to be denigrating with that.” Petra still looked on, perhaps to see what the woman saw. “I mean, for instance, on the way they had given us cash, saying that we would need it, but we didn’t believe there were still places they sold things in cash. I cannot even remember the last time I touched money.”
The woman took another sip.
“But it does feel strange, you know. It is strange to not have to swipe or press a button and have the goods delivered to you. It felt strange watching you pour the drink. This whole experience is so surreal.”
“We try to keep the interference of machines minimal,” Petra said.
“Yeah, I’ve heard of you people.” She smiled again. “You are like legends back in Aba. ‘The ones who refused to accept the changes technology was making and so they left.’ I didn’t think the stories were true. I cannot believe you all just up and left like that. Mad oo.”
Petra did not try to correct her. There was nothing noble in what they did. If anything, it was a necessary and desperate act, a drowning man reaching for a lifeline. They’d left before the world totally went mad. Genetic modifications, creating sentient humans? Ha! They had to draw the line somewhere. She could still remember the night that did it for her. She’d been sitting in front of the TV, the beans she was having for dinner growing cold before her as she sat mesmerized by the first fully-made artificial human. They’d called her Genesis. The insult! The sentient robot had curtseyed before the president and said ‘how do you do’ in such a way that Petra could imagine it sitting beside her on the way to market in the mornings or marrying one of her sons. It was the simplicity of their actions, its ‘it-is-no-big-deal nature that made her know that the last days were indeed here. The church had been expecting the Antichrist to be loud and take up space, but he’d come in like a miracle, unexpected. The next day she called the number of the Curly Haired Preacher and signed up for his relocation program.
Petra smiled and said, instead, “It wasn’t as simple as that.”
“I guess. In some way, you people are also probably right. I mean, I never thought the day would come when Aba will be like this, all skyscrapers reaching to the sky, buildings hemmed in on all sides. Microchips for everything, gadgets to perform even the simplest tasks such as cutting one’s hair. It can get overwhelming sometimes.”
Petra did not know how to respond, so she said nothing. They breathed in the silence for a while.
“Do you ever wish you stayed back? That you never left?”
“Sometimes,” Petra said.
There was a quote of St. Paul’s that Petra loved. It was from the book of Timothy. “Demas has deserted me and gone back to the world…” Sometimes she felt she understood the degree of betrayal the old apostle felt about this betrayal by his companion. When they all left Aba, they made a pact to cut ties with the world as they knew it. They were aware of what they were looking for; a city whose only attraction was God. But they also knew what they were giving up. Some people were like Demas, lured by what they left behind.
“Where are you going?” Petra asked when it seemed like the woman had exhausted her questions.
“To see God,” she replied.
Petra chuckled.
“Everybody on this route is on their way to find God. I mean, why do you want to see God?”
“Oh,” the woman gave an embarrassed laugh, which ended in a heave.
“People go through here often, yeah?” She asked.
“There isn’t a schedule, every four months or so, a bus would pull into the park carrying passengers. It all depends on several factors. For instance, when a natural disaster occurs, buses show up more. It is not only in the Bible that tragedy forces people to turn to God.”
“You are not curious? All these people passing here each time? You are not curious about whether they eventually found God or not? Don’t they pass through this place on the way back?”
“No, they don’t,” Petra said. “But even if they did, it’d change nothing. I really do not care. I have God right here.” She smote her bosom. “It is the desire to find something more that turns men into pillars of salt.”
“Women, you mean?” she said with a sarcastic grin.
Petra laughed. “Yeah, if you want to insist on that tiny detail. But you get the point.”
“What is your name?” Petra asked.
“Hosanna.”
“‘Hosanna?” Petra heard the shock in her voice too late. “You are religious, aren’t you?”
“Don’t sound so surprised,” Hosanna said. “There are still people of faith in Aba in 3059.”
“Sorry, I didn’t mean it that way. It is just the people who search for people are usually unbelievers, atheists and the likes.”
Hosanna sighed again. Petra was beginning to learn that she did that often.
“What is your name?”
“Petra.”
“You are a Christian?”
Petra nodded. “Most of us here are.”
“I heard you guys said you took God with you when you left.”
Petra laughed.
“Not really. We believe that it is foolish mixing science with religion. There is science, and there is God.”
“So, you don’t believe God talks to us over there in Aba?”
“Some words randomly showing up on the screen does not qualify as God speaking to anyone.” Petra scoffed.
“But nobody has been able to prove that they are not coming from God, even with the advent in technology and all. Plus, the words are so accurate. Each prophecy unfolding perfectly.”
Petra’s silence was one that echoed disagreement.
“You think we are stupid, those of us who believe?”
“I think you are misguided,” Petra said, gently, almost like a prayer.
“Well, I don’t know what you think,” Hossana said. “What I do know is that God spoke to me.”
She was very still as she unfurled the story, as though she didn’t want to unsettle the memory that had settled in her head. They’d been in the middle of a midweek service, she said. Ordinary service, the praise and worship just right. Nothing overdone, nothing spectacular, she continued. Their eyes had been turned to the screen. John 1:12, that was the scripture that they were about to read when the screen went blank.
“I can still remember the look on Pastor Ada’s face. I knew she was going to start shouting at the tech guys. But then the words started walking across the screen, and her face broke into a smile. She knew her church would be instantly famous. It was the second time a message was coming to a church that year.”
Hosanna was silent, then coughed. When she continued, her tone had acquired a distinct timbre of sadness.
“I was shocked when I saw my name on the screen. There was commotion all around me. People were coming to shake my hand, and then going straight to shake Juwon, my husband’s, too. I just stood, staring because, how do you react to a message from God that you are going to have a child after twelve years of marriage?”
It was Petra’s turn to oh.
“It is funny, because Juwon and I had not even been big on having children. We both supported the government’s Save the Human Race campaign in college. When we got married and it did not happen, we just laughed about it. What I felt was a dull ache of losing something you did not really want. We didn’t even do any of the popular medical experiments they do these days. And then the message came.”
A question was burning on Petra’s tongue. So she asked, “You did not have the child?”
“We had her alright.” Hosanna started laughing, heaving as she sputtered the next words. “We had her alright. Just for three weeks, then she was gone.”
“I’m sorry,” Petra said. Hosanna said nothing.
“And how about Juwon?” Petra asked. She could not think of anything else to say.
“What about him?”
“I’m guessing he shares your faith too. How did he take the loss?”
“I don’t know.”
She sighed from a place far away.
“When they told him, he just got up and smiled, and said ‘the Lord gives and the Lord takes.’”
Petra guffawed. “Faith does that to people.”
Hosanna shook her head in disagreement.
“That is not the point. Do you know how hard it is to find someone like that in Aba today? Such unwavering, unadulterated faith in a time when the world has no need for God? Now God just ups and does this. And for what?” Hosanna asked.
Petra nodded.
“He still goes to church and preaches and all, but it is the small things. I see him stare at his Bible all day. I notice the slight uncertainty in his voice these days when he preaches in church or leads in prayer. His faith has moved, and away from the father.”
Petra folded and unfolded her hands on her laps.
“I felt so helpless watching him. Those early days after our baby’s passing, I looked at this man whose love steadied me, who made me believe again, and I found that I could do nothing to ease his pain. It was then that I heard that it was possible to see God. That I had to cut off from all of technology and take risks.”
She described the process to Petra. The months of waiting for the tour company to carry out their verifications to make sure she was legit. The impromptu check-ins and the measures she was asked to take to make sure the government wasn’t tracking her. On the day they left, she’d dressed up for work, only to find men waiting for her when she opened the door. She did not take anything from her home. She’d even been lucky, she said. Some of the passengers did not bathe before they had to leave.
“A lot of people cried the first night. They kept us in one building without electricity. Mosquitoes finished me. One woman said she already made up her mind to cancel the trip, but then they met her at the market and she joined us. That first night, she kept muttering, “I cannot eat or sleep or stop my hands from shaking. As soon as the sun rises, I’ll leave this place,” and I understood what she meant. I joined her even. You see, I was willing to take the risk even if this journey leads nowhere. I am willing to do whatever it takes to see God and ask him why. I want to look him in the face and ask him what kind of cruel joke that was, whether it was how he treats his devout servants.”
Hosanna turned to look squarely at Petra.
“You asked why I am going to see God. This is it.”
The tears were flowing unbidden. Petra waited for the storm to pass, standing on the outskirts of Hosanna’s grief.
“What did the message say exactly?”
Hosanna’s eyes blazed. The tears were replaced by something steely.
“You think we did not analyze every syllable of that message. Do you think we did not try to imagine whether we misread, whether He meant that it was for a while?”
Petra was astounded by the weight of the woman’s words.
“I can still remember each session with the men from the church council from Aberdeen.”Her eyes still blazed as she continued, “We were put on trial, the light beamed into every drawer, secrets aired for everyone to see, the intent seeming less about determining the authenticity of the message, but our qualification to be subjects of such benevolence. I could tell that the men were judging me. Because they could tell somehow that I was lacking, wasn’t the rock of Gibraltar Juwon was. But I bore through it. I saw how hope transformed Juwon, and I endured. But regardless of how unworthy they thought us to be, they still confirmed that the message was from God. Even they!”
“I’m sorry,” Petra said when Hosanna was done.
“You shouldn’t be.” Her voice had softened. “I asked myself that question a lot of times, too; what if I was wrong?”
Hosanna brought out a rag and started wiping her shoes.
“Juwon is such a stupid person.” She straightened and beamed at Petra, signaling that she was entering into sunnier territory, non-bitter memory. She went back to wiping her shoes. “During the first week, the baby had hiccups all the time. I told him it was natural. His mother told him it would go away on its own. The doctors told him not to worry, but that big head would still be fretting anytime it started. He’d be running up and down, eventually frightening me.”
She folded the rag and placed it back into her bag.
“I mean, you should have seen how he was with the baby. Why would anyone snatch that away? What kind of person is that cruel, Petra?”
The face she turned to Petra was that of a child asking why the sun rises in the East. It was full of expectancy and faith.
“I don’t know, Hosanna.”
Even Petra tasted the bile of disappointment in Hosanna’s last sigh.
“What do you think He will tell you? Assuming you find him,” Petra added quickly.
“Any answer will do. Anything, but silence.”
Just then, the bell started ringing. It was time to leave.
“I’m so sorry, I’m not usually this expressive,” Hosanna said, getting up and straightening her skirt.
“That’s alright.” Petra smiled.
“You are such a great listener.”
“It comes with the job,” Petra answered. “And don’t worry about paying,” she said when the woman stretched out some money.
“The one called Hosanna will birth a child, and she shall be the savior of many,” Hosanna said at the door.
“Thank you,” Petra said. Hosanna nodded and wiped her face.
They stepped outside to meet the other women who owned the other shops waving as the passengers filed into the bus.
As soon as the car was out of sight, the women turned to one another. How was yours? Mine is a professor of Theology. He wants to see Jesus face to face. Mine? He thinks this is an adventure; he wants to be in the Guinness Book of Records. Petra, what of that woman in your shop?
Petra turned away from the chatter and went into her shop. She sat on the seat that Hosanna vacated. Evening turned to dusk, and she packed up and went home. Some days she’d catch herself in little moments muttering prayers, wagering against herself that she’d be wrong and that at the end of Hosanna’s journey, someone will be waiting.
Joshua Chizoma is a Nigerian writer. His works have been published or is forthcoming in Pairie Schooner, Anathema Magazine, AFREADA, Entropy Magazine, Parachya Review, and elsewhere. His story, A House Called Joy won the Kreative Diadem Prize in the Flash fiction category. In 2021, he was finalist for the Afritondo Short Story Prize and is the winner of the Awele Creative Trust Short Story Prize. He is an alumnus of the 2019 Purple Hibiscus Creative Writing Workshop taught by Chimamanda Adichie.
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