Mama Africa

By Gwen Willis

Mama Africa gets an audience with the King.

Have you ever desired to bow in the presence before the King of all kings and share it all with him?

Growing up in a Christian home and church, I was taught the power that comes from an honest, fervent prayer. Prayer can be sometimes a simple moment in our day that we might just stop and whisper a concern to God. Prayer can be even more powerful when matched up with fasting; God hears us. He answers prayers.

It started with a little prayer at a desperate period of my life. The book Mama Africa revisits a twenty-year span of my life. I talk about my childhood because it's what shapes and molds you into the person that you are today. This book tells my journey from the struggle of singleness, a single parent, a woman in the workforce to marriage life and then divorce, learning the conflicts that come with crossing the boundaries in cultures when marrying. Being a good-hearted person does not create the relationship or fellowship God is seeking with us as individuals.

I tell my story of how God continues to favor me in spite of my failure to place him as the first priority. He required obedience as he continued to honor me and started the process of steering me back into his protective arms of love and grace. He lavished me with his unconditional love while sheltering me from the consequences of bad decisions, the pain of separation followed by divorce. He made his presence known as he constructed his compassion toward me making my heartfelt desires his biggest concern. What a great God we serve!

I call this journey "my modern-day Hosea story." Lord, teach me to love my husband.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Christian Faith Publishing, Inc.
• Release date: Aug 6, 2021
• ISBN: 9781098082635

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Mama Africa

Gwen Willis

Copyright © 2021 by Gwen Willis

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Christian Faith Publishing, Inc.

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Meadville, PA 16335

www.christianfaithpublishing.com

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The purpose of this e-book is to inspire and motivate others going through difficult times or can relate to the author’s life in any way. The author and the publisher do not warrant that the information contained in this e-book is fully complete and shall not be responsible for any errors or omissions. The author and publisher shall have neither liability nor responsibility to any person or entity with respect to any loss or damage caused or alleged to be caused directly or indirectly by this e-book.

Printed in the United States of America

Table of Contents

The Prayer

Meeting Mr. Right

The Surprise Identity

The Road to Citizenship

A Modern-Day Hosea Story

The Dream: Kwame Was Taken

Three Days in the Belly of the Fish

Getting Busy for God

The Nigerian Man Returns

Learning to Obey God: To Obey is Better than Sacrifice (1 Samuel 15:22)

Introduction

What happens when a woman of faith refuses to give up on her marriage? When she believes her husband is heaven sent? What follows is a true love story based on an answered prayer. Through many trials, they find each other in the most unlikely place: a hospital cleaning department. As they navigate the roads of immigration, employment, marriage, divorce, and the faiths they share, we are exposed to a deep love that keeps them together.

Chapter 1

The Prayer

God, send me a husband. Please, God! Please send me a husband, I fervently whispered. I believe this is the prayer every little girl whispers at church in front of the Lord every now and then. It was a cold winter’s day in February 1999. I could not have felt more desolate as I prepared the hospital conference center space for an event. At the time, I was working at Greystone Hospital in Atlanta, Georgia as the director of housekeeping. Tired and short of temper, I continued praying, Lord, I need a husband who will love me and help me. I am all alone here with no one to depend on or ask for help. In my despair, I questioned, Lord, why me? Am I not deserving of someone to be there for me? Am I to do this alone? Suddenly, two voices interrupted my thoughts, offering assistance; they belonged to Tony and Amir, the event center maintenance men. One of them asked me if I was okay. Turning away and wiping my tears to conceal my distress, I answered, Yes, I’m fine. I just need help finishing this request. I’m short of help again today.

Amir replied, No, we got this. We’ll finish it. You can go back to your office. God, I needed to hear those words of kindness. I turned around and took a quick look at Amir. God, is he my husband? I asked.

Amir, the maintenance guy, had come to Greystone at the end of 1998. He was one good-looking, tall Nigerian man. He’d been brought to the facility by a Nigerian woman named Sarah who worked in my department. Sarah introduced him as her brother. He was charming yet mysterious. Little did I know, he would disappear without a trace. I’d been on a few dates with him. He told me that he had been a teacher in Nigeria. Why was he working as a maintenance person in this country? I wondered.

One day, Amir came to my office and asked for a favor. I asked him to give me a moment as I was in the middle of typing a document for my boss. He said, I can look at that for you. My back was turned toward him so he could see the computer screen over my shoulders. You have some grammatical errors that need to be corrected.

Really? Which ones? I asked, turning to him.

You’re using words that sound the same but, when used in a sentence, they are spelled differently. Here, let me correct them. I can do it right away! I moved over and gave him space. He sat down in front of my computer and proceeded to edit my document as I watched. I wondered, yet again, why was he working in maintenance? There, it’s done. You see, I worked as a teacher in my country, he explained.

Then why aren’t you working as a teacher here? I asked.

It’s not that easy when you leave your country to come to another, especially the United States. They want you to take classes and get a certification which can sometimes feel like you have to start over, and who wants that?

Well, I believe a teacher makes more money than a maintenance man, so it should be worth the trouble.

I’m working on it, he said. He stood up from my chair, I was wondering if you could do me a favor?

What might that be?

On your way out, would you be able to drop me off at the public library? he asked.

I chuckled. Are you working on that certification?

Something like that.

Getting to know Amir was like getting to know the African culture. He spoke about the people, the food, the hardships, and the good times. Still, I wondered how many of the stories he told me were actually true. Also, I later learned that Amir Isibo wasn’t his real name.

One day, out of the blue, Amir disappeared off the face of the earth. It all happened so quickly. He had asked me if I could drop him off at the public library and pick him up after he was done studying. This was nothing out of the ordinary. I had done this for him several times. That day, however, he never called for me to pick him up. I went to the public library and looked for him to no avail. I returned on different occasions, hoping to find him, only to be disappointed. After a few days, I asked Sarah about the situation to which she replied, I thought he was with you. I haven’t seen or heard from him… Well, he’s gone. Forget about him. I didn’t understand her reply, but I didn’t probe her any further because I didn’t want to draw any attention to our friendship, given my position in the hospital.

I found myself missing Amir and remembering the time I had spent with him. There was an odd familiarity in the way he spoke that reminded me of my own home and life growing up in my father’s house as a Christian. It was a familiar culture. Perhaps I related to the strong family ties that seem to be more prevalent in countries outside of the United States. I had great respect for the culture and the close-knit family unit. Still, let’s not confuse culture with religion and surely not with salvation. They are not one in the same.

I was brought up in a Christian home where love was based upon having made a sacred commitment rather than fleeting emotions. It was unspoken love, demonstrated through daily acts of kindness and care. My mom and dad were committed to their relationship and to the job of being good, godly parents.

These values were instilled in me through our church, Christ Temple Cathedral Church of Christ Holiness in Chicago, Illinois. Many people called it the Do-And-Don’t-Do church. We understood that some things you just don’t do while others you must. Still, I love my church. It taught me the Christian values that I still hold today, through it all. In our church, little girls were taught how to be ladies and how to prepare themselves to one day be good wives. The mothers of the church