As Pastor Brown and Mr. Olonade came out of the old man's house, the man of God looked over the whole compound and concluded that Mr. Olonade had really done well for himself and his family. The Goshen Villa as was named by the man – stood on a large expanse of land. It was a modest bungalow that was fenced round with plenty of land to spare. If one could look from above, maybe from a flying plane, the fenced bungalow would look like a tiny dot on a plain paper sheet. The excess land didn't just go to waste, Mr. Olonade, - a man of sixty-five had made good use of the land he toiled hard to buy. He divided his compound into segments. On one side, he cultivated a garden which largely contributed to the meals on his table, another segment was for his poultry where he reared layers and broilers, and healthy birds they were. The sales of the eggs as well as the fowls boosted his financial status. He had a goat shed, a pig pen, and even a dog house that was home for two German Shepherds. Mr. Olonade was a devout Christian and an experienced farmer.
"Thank you very much for the prayers, pastor," he said to the pastor as he walked him to his car. The pastor looked at him and smiled.
"No problem, Mr. Olona, this sickness is not unto death but that the son of God be glorified. Just keep taking good care of her, I'll be praying."
The pastor had earlier arrived at the Goshen Villa to pray for the man's daughter upon his call. The twenty-two year old undergraduate had come home from school the night before and had complained of headache. It had been slight at the time of her arrival. Her father had instructed her to eat and take a headache relief tablet, which she did. She had slept soundly until the midnight when she rose from sleep with a temperature the heat of fire. Her perspiration was unusual and abnormal. Her sweats were dripping like a roof dripping rain water. Mr. Olona had rushed to her bedroom upon her shout. She said her headache was as if an angry carpenter was hammering furiously on her head. Her father had rushed her to their family doctor who lived not too far from them despite the time. She had been treated by the doctor and gotten better but Mr. Olonade deemed it fit to call the pastor to pray for his daughter so as to make the healing permanent.
"Hallelujah,"Mr. Olonade replied to the pastor's quote.
"Hallelujah," the pastor repeated just as his phone rang. He checked the caller's name, it was his wife. "I'm sorry, Mr.Olona, I need to take this," he said, indicating the phone.
"No problem."
He clicked the 'receive' button on his phone. "Hello?" What the sobbing Chichi said on the phone made his head reel. He didn't realise he shouted his question: "What?!"
Mr. Olonade was alarmed. "What is it?"
Pastor Brown looked blankly at Mr. Olonade for few seconds and as if starting from a terrible nightmare, he became alert. "I'll be in touch!" He said and rushed to his car. Mr. Olonade rushed to open the gate for the agitated pastor. The cleric turned the ignition and sped off, leaving Mr. Olonade to wonder what could have happened.