The man of God has asked us to pray against the wiles of the devil, so like a demon-possessed child aware of what grows inside her, I place my two hands on my head and scream amen to the highest heavens. I speak a new language, swaying back and forth furiously commanding the fire to wash me clean. I feel my scarf loosen from the knot on my head and a cold air wraps around my head.

Bring her to the front! Bring her here, let me pray for her.

I am here. I need deliverance. There is a spirit in me that needs binding. I have brought the devil into the church with the sins of my tongue and the gates of hell are flung open against the church on my behalf.

I open my eyes to see it is not me they are looking for. God is not looking for me today. There is another girl on the floor. Her yellow dress, brown with dirt from thrashing around on the floor, and the ushers fight to hold her down. They do not care that her head might break the concrete floor, instead, they worry that more people might catch a glimpse of her blue lace panties.

Eshekebe! Abrakubra abrakubra abrkubra! Lose her now! Lose her now you terrible spirit. LOOOOOOOOOOOSEEE! Eshekebe imorotoba! Loose! Loose!

I beg for the man of God to look at me, for the demon to escape the girl in the yellow dress fast enough so he could see that I too bear a demon. He does not. He finds one in the boy next to me, another one in the usher that shook my hand at the door, another one in three of the choir girls and another one in a baby strapped to his mother’s back but he does not find one in me.

I had hoped it was a grandmother I did not know that did this to me or perhaps an uncle that I forgot to greet that chose to leave this curse of strange desires in my belly because then, it is a yoke that can be broken. I can be set free if only the man of God would look at me.

There is a strange desire sitting in my belly, it turns circles, digging paths between my legs. Sometimes I feel it in my fingers, it forces me to reach down below my belly in search of pleasure, and it builds. It builds up until it collapses and forms a pool of guilt. Sometimes, it pushes me to knock on her door.

She bears her demons and she sees mine too. Although, she tells me that the only demons that live within me are only my fear and hate for myself. I tell her that she knows nothing while searching for my clothes. I tell her she does not understand how I feel. I tell her she does not know the conviction I was born with and how that conviction chases me in my dreams in the form of my mother’s bible. She says I am crazy and that is why I am here.

Sitting in the front row of The Chosen of the Highest Spiritual Ministries. I am wearing my brightest white dress and I do not mind staining it with the dirt of the holy ground beneath my feet.

I wait. I wait and wallow in my tears as the man of God turns circles around everyone else but me.

Finally, he stops in front of me.

Why are you here? There is something following you.

Yes! Man of God, yes. Pray for me please, man of God. I think to myself.

There is something following you and it will come out today!

He points, but he is not pointing at me. There is a woman behind me. She starts flailing around like a boneless tree, he keeps screaming and never stops screaming in her face when the ushers draw her closer to him.

Slowly, his voice begins to fade away. I hear less and less of him with every step I take towards the entrance. I will go to live with my demon another day, the man of God has not seen me today, maybe he will see me another day.