A night under Open heavens!

‘They meet God here,’ I was told once, ‘some travel thousands of kilometers to be under the ‘open heavens’’.

What‘s my reason? Why do I keep coming here? Are the questions that fill my mind as I walk towards the center.

Uneven, thirsty and dirty is the road that leads to my destination. The air reeks of cattle dung and the heat the kind that I use to roast chicken for Sunday brunch.

At first sight is the chapel, sitting five hundred people comfortably but with the uncanny ability to stretch beyond its limits when demanded.
Leftward, the ladies washing facilities, strong ammonium stench emanates from the inside of the set up; it is dark, bulb sockets broken and stained from years of neglect. Five latrines and five bathrooms line up opposite each other, the floor of the short corridor in between is wet and sticky making me interested on what I step on. At the far end, a half length mirror, the only thing not broken; probably because no one can stay in here long enough to make good use of it.

The center boasts acres of land and as I head toward the dormitories I pass by a stretch of small prayer rooms the size of an English phone booth. In them are men and women and children.
Weeping
Crying
Praying

Suddenly I’m made aware of the very heavy presence of a magnificent other-worldly being.

Loud disharmonious singing accompanied by a piano playing the same monotonous beat announces the beginning of mandatory chapel time. The God seekers, unbothered belch out the tunes, and unashamedly lift their hands to the creator they cannot see.

Worship service ends, I head back to the dormitory; others make prayer walks around the center. The night is still young it would seem, why sleep when you have come to meet your maker?

I fall asleep to the sound of voices praying: boisterous shouts and desperate whispers; the earnestness, the sincerity, the power piercing through the darkness. Prayer ninjas waving their swords in the spiritual places and as I doze off, the answers come in a still small voice.
His people are here and He is here! His presence so heavy, so real I could touch it; and even though the journey is long and the road is hard; even though the washrooms are in a deplorable state and the music is terrible.
He
Is
Here!

Even with mattresses so thin I practically sleep on the floor, just the thought that I am laying under such a great spiritual covering, is the reason; the reason why I come back year after year, even if it is just for one night