PUNCH
Godfrey George tells the story of Bethesda, a church fully run and managed by visually-impaired persons
The skies darkened at the crack of dawn. The tiny stars that lined the previous night had gone to sleep at the sight of the unsettling dark clouds that heralded the coming of the rains. The time is 5.37am and it’s Sunday, a day when most Christians go to worship their God.
Saturday PUNCH arrived at the Agege Motor Road, Mosalashi Bus Stop, Surulere, Lagos, that morning in search of Bethesda, a church where every member of its congregation is blind.
As Saturday PUNCH reporter alighted from a cab right after an overhead bridge, the skies opened up and heavy rains pounded the area.
Our correspondent took shelter under a shed housing a horde of men who smoked marijuana and downed some sachets of dry gin.
Loud music of the late Fuji maestro, Sikiru Ayinde Barrister, blasted from the Mp3 player nearby.
Close by, a lady in a peach hijab, who had an infant tied on her back, struggled to make a fire with wood and charcoal.
The more she struggled, the more the rains poured, with an accompanying thick breeze, frustrating her efforts.
Tired, she moved closer to the shed for shelter, greeted the men and sat on the same bench our reporter sat on.
As the angry sky took a break for a moment and little rays of morning sunshine peered through the clouds, this reporter walked down the street on the leading of a lad to the building that housed the church which is named after a pool in Biblical Jerusalem, believed to have healing powers.
Outside the high black gate, a small pond had gathered.
On the walls were large paintings of a boy and a girl, dressed in white and black and doing some creative work, and another boy working on the computer. The inscription, ‘Greater sight is in the mind,’ was conspicuous on a part of the wall.
On knocking, the gatekeeper peeped through an opening at the gate to confirm this reporter’s appointment before he opened the gate, which gave way to a large compound.
Our correspondent, on entering, discovered that the gatekeeper was blind.
“Can you see those two steps there? Climb it; go right and you will meet Mummy’s personal assistant, who will confirm your appointment,” he said with impeccable command.
As Saturday PUNCH reporter sat, waiting for the founder of the home cum church and school, Dr Chioma Ohakwe, a tall, visually-impaired young boy armed with two buckets full of clothes walked past.
He bumped into a pillar that stood leftward, which caused one of the buckets to fall. He picked his bucket right up, packed up the clothes that fell and continued his journey down the stairs as though nothing happened.
He walked almost too briskly down to a nearby tap, filled an empty bucket with water and walked back up to get a pack of detergent.
Three visually-impaired children – Kuton, Aisha and Alimat – ran across the hallway in a similar white-on-blue outfit. They held one another’s shoulders as they did, giggling and singing.
Mrs Ohakwe, who is also a preacher, said the service was set for 6 am and would begin in a few minutes.
