They say not everyone will like you no matter how good you are, but I’ve never met anyone who didn’t love me at first sight. It’s mostly about my looks at first, which hardly a day goes by that I don’t get complimented for (I’m 5″9, slim and a ‘yummy shade of ebony’ as my friend Clara puts it), but anyone who’s ever heard me sing adores me even more.
The whole of City of Hope Church practically stand at attention every time I step up to the mic, and even I feel a slight tremble listening to taped recordings of my performances.
“Christy, that was a powerful ministration, it really touched me.” “I wasn’t going to testify, but after that song sister Christy sang, I realized…”
I don’t know how I do it, I do know that it’s all God. Every single person in the choir is talented, but having the highest number of testifiers anytime I lead praise and worship takes a special grace that I’m forever grateful for.
Young and old, male and female, they walk up to me to tell me how much God has blessed them through the songs that I sing. And that keeps me going. Knowing that I’m touching lives, giving hope, healing people of their hurt and pains, relieves me of mine and makes me put my heart and soul into it. When I get on stage, I simply let the words flow from the very core of me. I could’ve just had an argument with mum or another bout of constant bickering with my siblings, but nothing else matters anymore at that moment except for whatever words God’s put in my mouth, which I deliver to the best of my ability.
Funny how some people see me and imagine that I’ve got this great voice and nothing to worry about. All they see is this beautiful Christian who has everything going for her. I hear other girls talk about how they wish they could be me and I cringe, wishing they hadn’t said it. It kills me inside. Truth is, nobody really knows what it’s like to be me. They don’t know how I secretly hate any girl my brother has ever dated for no reason in particular, or my sickle cell younger sister for having all of our parents’ attention most of the time.
Many times I’ve pretended to miss seeing dad ogle the widow next door and shrugged it off like I didn’t know there was something going on between them that mum doesn’t know about. What about the time uncle Junior (We call him that but I really don’t know how we are actually related) slid his fat, sweaty palm up my blouse and I never mentioned it to anyone? Oh, and there’s Kay. He plays the keyboard in church. What no one knows is that we engage in various forms of play together. Alone.
The State Musical Contest is up in a few weeks and I’m in with unflinching support from everyone around me. It’s taken years of training and now I’m finally eighteen and of age to enter. All I have to do is make it to the top at the zonal eliminations–which I’m confident that I will–and I’m on my way to making it big time.
Professional brush-up and a record deal with mega bucks to go with it…this girl is going to be a superstar! Many more girls will look up to me and want to be me. Only Lord knows I’m not all that. ‎
Morountodun is a writer and a microbiology ‎ graduate of University of Ilorin.
Twitter: @Morountosweet
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