Let’s Have A Cuppa! – #4


On the fourth episode of Let’s Have A Cuppa!, we have the gorgeous Ehmie here to tell us a story immersed in meaning and wound with intricacies. Ready?

Let’s go!

Ehmie from The E Mixtape Journal

(Instagram: @ehmie_o)

Mr. P

The Catholic Church I attend with my family is not very different from the average Nigerian Catholic Church.

As a Catholic Church, it contains the basics. The beautifully decorated altar, the pews arranged parallel to each other, stained glass windows, a large crucifix, huge portraits or statues of Jesus and Mother Mary, depictions of the stations of the cross etc. etc. etc.

As a Nigerian Catholic Church, it contains the basics too:

The people who rush to sit on the pews directly in front of the altar and are prepared to start a fight if another person makes the mistake of getting there first and making it their sit for that Sunday as though sitting elsewhere in the church would cause the blessings or the message for that Sunday to elude them.

The aunt, uncle or friend of the family you know will be present in church every Sunday and you’d truthfully rather not see so you do your very best to avoid them until they take it upon themselves to trot to where you’re sat or you’re forced to engage them by your parents.

The woman who insists that your dress is too indecent to be worn to the house of God even when you’re a hundred percent sure that you left the house with your parents.

The man who comes to the 6:30am mass every Sunday and sleeps/dozes throughout.

The person who comes to church armed with the missal, hymn book, daily devotional, bible diary and what have you and doesn’t use any single one of them throughout the entire mass.

The people whose participation in the mass would be incomplete if they do not share the peace of The Lord with every single soul in the church.

The family or organization that contributes largely to every major church project and revels in the resounding applause from the congregation when their very generous donation is announced.

The woman who looks like she really needs a miracle.

The man who you can clearly tell is giving out of his last just to have something to put in the offering bag.

The children who obviously got too much sleep at night and are full of energy and disrupt the mass every single chance they get and also the ones who have their parents chasing them around the church especially during sensitive times like the consecration.

The church warden with a permanent scowl on his face.

And the priest whose homily takes forever and a day to end.

Yeah, the basics.

Amidst all these elementals, an old man stands out to me. I confess that this man would probably go unnoticed by me if I happen to sit elsewhere than I usually do on Sundays. I’m strategically sat every Sunday to watch and observe him.

I’m a bit worried about the name I’ve given him, Mr. P, but it was the first thing that came to me when I took notice of him. I gave him this name for I fear that he suffers from Parkinson’s disease because he exhibits the common symptoms of the medical condition: tremor, slowed movement and impaired posture.

I don’t quite understand the fascination myself; it could be how I see that he always tries to put a smile on his face even when people are clearly being rude to him, it could be how I see him trudge to church every Sunday even when he looks really uncomfortable and I think it wise for him to lay in bed and rest, it could be how he’s ready to give up his sit for another person and stand or squeeze tightly at the edge of the pew, it could be how his face lights up whenever he sees a child who usually wanders to his pew, it could be how I watch him immersed in fervent prayer and I wonder what he lifts up to God in supplication. It could be any, a combination or all of these things. Maybe even more.

I’ve tried to weave various stories featuring him based solely on his demeanor but none sticks. I’ve gone to a man abandoned by his family who he gave his all to to a poor pensioner to a domestic employee of some rich ingrate and back.

None of them stick simply because none of them appear to be truth.

I might be close but nothing beats the riveting intricacies of a person’s truth which is why, one day, I will muster up the courage to approach Mr. P and ask him to tell me his story.

Thank you so much Ehmie, for sharing this wonderful story to me as well as all the readers out there! Guys do check out her blog and follow her on Instagram as well! 

The whole point of this mini project was to get to know more about the different people who follow what I write. It’s an eye-opener, really, the unique stores spun from the lives of so many different people. I’m so glad I got this going, and I hope you guys liked this too as it opened doors to so many wonderful blogs, and of course, the bloggers 🙂

If you want to share your story, check out: Let’s Have A Cuppa!

Until then,


WBG :)x




10 thoughts on “Let’s Have A Cuppa! – #4

  1. righteousbruin9 says:

    What a lovely account- and it brings back memories of my childhood parish, in the Boston area: The wise guy of a pastor;the skeevy curate (who, mercifully, was entirely disinterested in me); my High School senior who almost got into a fist fight with an older man, in the parking lot, over a space; my counseling session, vis-a-vis alcohol, with a senior cleric; and, most of all, the stifling heat, on any given Sunday morning, in the summer.

    Liked by 2 people

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