New York, My Village by Uwem Akpan

Author:Uwem Akpan [Akpan, Uwem]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9780393881424
Google: xoMszgEACAAJ
Publisher: W. W. Norton
Published: 2021-11-15T00:00:00+00:00

FATHER ORRIN WAS a better homilist than Father Kiobel, which meant he was really good. Toward the end, he caught everyone by surprise by asking the children to stand up. He said pointedly, “Our eternal homework is to love our complex world, befriending people of all colors and orientations.” They stood up and repeated this after him like in a catechism class. Tuesday was very proud of his church. We all poured our hearts into the comfort of the priest’s familiar chanting of the Fourth Eucharist Prayer, and then Usen and I watched others receive Communion.

After Mass, many welcomed us outside with selfies as if we had just arrived. The old people were emotional about the memories of our war. But when we tried to say we were not Biafrans, they became very confused, as though they had sent the relief stuff to the wrong place. So we gave up and thanked them for everything and told them some family stories of how their charity and novenas kept us alive. They thanked us and condemned the “needless squabble over seats.” And, for the first time, I felt they had finally received me like the rest. When I revealed I was not African American, everyone laughed nervously, bemoaning the folly of prejudice and discrimination. More people joined our group, because we were loud and fun.

Usen apologized for the f-word.

“Oh no, a more appropriate f-word usage and timing and place would be hard to find!” someone joked.

“And if you didn’t make a scene, none of us would’ve suspected the ushers were harassing you under God’s very nose,” another said.

“Look, we’ve already told Father Orrin there’ll be a complaint made to Bishop Salomone about his comments on Judaism,” someone said. “The bishop can’t tolerate this shit. He is conscious of social issues.”

“We look forward to seeing you next Sunday,” Mary hollered, rolling in and shaking hands with us. When Tuesday said he always loved her laugh and praised her role in the sacristy, she laughed even more. She revealed she herself had told Father Orrin on my arrival—having watched him snub me continually—that he must allow me to stay for Mass.

We could not join them in the basement for refreshments because of our sacristy reception. A man brought us coffee in Styrofoam cups. A lady took orange juice and pastries to Ujai and a bunch of kids in the field. They were noisily playing among the Stations and admiring her outfit.

I texted Molly our change of fortunes.

No reply.

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