Children of The Cross

By Dennis Amankwaah

 

"Children of the Cross" intricately weaves the lives of three resilient children, navigating a complex world that continuously shapes their existence. Amidst conflicting ideologies, they tenaciously cling to their faith.

Against the backdrop of familial conflicts and generational clashes, the narrative immerses readers in the intricacies of relationships. The emotional core is forged through a daughter's tearful questioning of her place in a world defined by a profound generational gap. Her plea for understanding echoes poignantly, lost amidst parental discord, leaving her adrift in a sea of uncertainties.

The tension deepens with a pastor's fervent desire for his son to embrace a sacred calling, leading to a compelling exploration of faith and familial expectations. Fate, in its mysterious design, intricately weaves these individual struggles into a singular tapestry, molding destinies in unexpected ways.

A surprising twist unfolds as the narrative reveals a clandestine relationship between two girls, Felicity and Portia.

 "So what's this "silly game" of yours." Felicity asked sitting by Portia. "You insisted that nobody sees us, so here we are." She added. Portia looked at her and drew closer to her looking straight into Felicity's eyes. "Why?" Felicity asked confused. But Portia placed a finger on her lip. "It's something I learnt from one of the movies. There were two women." She whispered.

Their passionate kiss sparks a tumultuous reaction from Felicity's mother, who grapples with societal expectations and undergoes an evolution in her understanding of her daughter's identity.

"You devil." "You devil". "I should have known. You're not… you're not my daughter."

"Children of the Cross" emerges as a poignant exploration of identity, family dynamics, and the burdens of societal norms. The relationships between parents and children navigate unexpected turns, challenging established notions and leaving both readers and characters captivated by the capricious twists of fate. This thought-provoking novel reflects on the intricate complexities of human relationships and the profound impact of generational gaps on the shaping of one's identity.

 

• Language: English
• Publisher: Sir Den
• Release date: Feb 12, 2024
• ISBN: 9789988799854

Book preview

CHAPTER 1

Sundays always held a special place in Kumi's heart, but this particular one carried a different air, an unspoken tension. He sat in the family's old four-seater Volkswagen, flanked only by his parents, the absence of Uncle Ogyam leaving an unusual gap in the backseat. With ample room in the car, Kumi's small frame found itself perched comfortably, affording him the freedom to peer out through either of the doors' window glass. Kumi, with his endearing but petite stature, possessed eyes that resembled the graceful contours of a gazelle's. Whenever he broke into a smile, those large, beautifully shaped eyes accentuated the warmth of the expression on his delightful face. As the car journeyed, Kumi's gaze remained fixed on the world beyond the right-side window, his mind immersed in the memory verses his father had tasked him with. The soft gospel tunes playing on the radio, though creating a soothing atmosphere for reflection, did not divert his focus. Perhaps, at his tender age, the concept of meditation eluded him, or he was merely caught in the intricate web of recalling a specific verse from the Bible.

It was half-past 8 in the morning, and the sun's radiant beams showed no mercy. The sun reigned supreme in the morning sky. Despite the air flowing in and out through the car's open windows, beads of sweat trickled down Kumi's face. His father noticed and, with a quick motion, reached out to wipe away the perspiration. Glancing in the rearview mirror, he asked, You doing alright back there?

Kumi nodded and replied, Yes, Papa, his eyes still fixed on the outside world through the car's window. The car had settled into a moderate speed, and Kumi continued to commit the verses to memory.

Aha! Matthew 6:33, Kumi began, And the word of God says, 'Seek ye first the Kingdom of God...' He paused for a moment, his expression puzzled. Mrs. Ansah, Kumi's mother, turned to look at him, a supportive smile on her face. And His righteousness, she added, guiding him gently.

Kumi's face illuminated with a bright smile as he flawlessly completed the verse. This unique technique of recalling verses was his trademark. He was a remarkably intelligent young boy, and this was his special method for retaining scripture. Whenever he stumbled during memorization, he would recite what he knew and patiently wait for even the faintest hint to guide him forward. At just 12 years old, he earned the admiration of many for his remarkable technique.

The jovial atmosphere in the car came to an abrupt halt as the vehicle's coughing fits forced it to a sudden stop. It was as if the old beetle had developed a case of the hiccups and gradually sneezed to a standstill. Mr. Ansah attempted to resuscitate the engine with a turn of the key, but the old car refused to cooperate.

Kumi, curious and concerned, was pulled from his scripture memorization by the unexpected turn of events. Papa, can I do anything to help? he inquired.

Mr. Ansah assured him, Oh, that's alright, Kumi. I think it's just a minor fault. They found themselves stranded in the middle of the road, surrounded by impatient drivers and passers-by who, oblivious to the situation, hurled insults and curses at them.

I told you this car wasn't in good shape to take us to church, but you still insisted on using it, eh? Mrs. Ansah complained, her frustration mounting. Despite her irritation, Mr. Ansah remained composed and stepped out of the car to investigate the issue.

Move that thing out of the road! one irate driver yelled, adding his voice to the cacophony of continuous honking from other frustrated drivers. Impatience was running high, especially since it was a Sunday, and many commercial drivers had no intention of attending church. The unexpected delay was seen as a waste of time, an unnecessary hindrance to their sales, as they needed to make their profits that morning.

While Sunday was a day of worship for most Ghanaians, it was quite different for these drivers. Some had no connection to the church and were solely focused on their livelihood. For others, Saturday was their day of fellowship, so Sundays were dedicated to work, making sure they could earn a living.

On that fateful Sunday morning, a sudden traffic jam ensued at the Awoshie-Baah Yard Junction where the old beetle had come to a halt. It had stopped right in the middle of the road, poised to make a left turn onto the Lapaz N1 Highway. The situation was far from ideal, especially on a Sunday morning when traffic was already bustling with churchgoers and others on their way to various destinations.

Mr. Ansah, with the car's hood propped open, was hard at work. He had identified the battery and was meticulously twisting and turning the battery terminal. The fuel level had been double-checked, as the gauge was functioning perfectly, and there were no fuel tank leaks to be found. With those bases covered, he moved to the steering wheel and turned the key, hoping for ignition.

However, the car remained unresponsive, and the issue was far from resolved.

We're running late, Mrs. Ansah said, stepping out of the car. She stood beside her husband and held his hand. Let's take a 'trotro.' We can fix it later, she suggested, recognizing the urgency of the situation. The passers-by and drivers momentarily paused to observe what was happening.

A pure water vendor approached the couple and offered them some water, but they politely declined. Ewia no abo o, she said in Twi, meaning that the sun was scorching and they needed to take some cold water. She continued with her lively sales pitch. Despite it being a Sunday, some vendors were already up and ready for business.

Mr. Ansah initially hesitated but eventually agreed with his wife's suggestion, realizing that it was the most practical way to proceed given their predicament.

Mr. Ansah was aware that there was a problem with the car, but he couldn't pinpoint the exact fault. Unfortunately, there were no mechanics in sight to provide a quick fix for the old beetle, which would have allowed them to continue their journey at least that morning and return home later in the day.

After contemplating the situation for a while, Mr. Ansah resignedly closed the car's hood. Meanwhile, Kumi had taken the initiative to step outside and assist with directing traffic around the stalled vehicle. It seemed like he had some experience in traffic directing, and his efforts were not in vain. He earned the admiration of other passengers in the public transport vehicles that passed by, eliciting smiles and commendations for his helpful actions.

Great job, boy. You're doing well, praised one taxi driver as he passed by Kumi, acknowledging his efforts in directing traffic. Kumi's father, Mr. Ansah, then called out to him, reminding him to be careful and not get too close to the moving vehicles.

Okay, Papa, Kumi responded, wiping his face with his handkerchief as he continued his traffic-directing duties. Meanwhile, Mr. Ansah sought the assistance of some willing hands to help push the stalled car to a nearby filling station. After successfully moving the car, Mr. Ansah expressed his gratitude to the kind helpers, and the family of three patiently waited for a shared minibus to continue their journey.

The minibus had been making good progress until the driver  made an unexpected stop. The passengers, including the Ansah family, grew increasingly anxious and displayed signs of impatience. It appeared that the morning had not been kind to many, leading to a general sense of restlessness among the passengers.

Murmurs and complaints swirled through the vehicle, directed at the driver and his conductor. However, two passengers remained unperturbed by the commotion. An elderly man, around 70 years old, sat in the front seat with his head buried in a newspaper, seemingly engrossed in its contents. Right next to him, a young woman was lost in her thoughts, her attention fixed on something beyond the immediate frustrations of the journey.

The two passengers, the elderly man and the young woman, appeared to be in their own world, as they remained unfazed by the chaos around them. The constant noise from the vehicle's engine, combined with the passengers' complaints and whining, was enough to irritate anyone.

The driver had brought the minibus to an abrupt halt, and he was waiting for the engine to cool down. He had attempted to open the hood but had almost injured himself in the process. The conductor quickly had to grab a sachet water and pour onto his hands to cool them down. Finally, with great caution, the driver reached for the heavy metal rug under his seat, preparing to lift it as he assessed the situation.

Can't you give me a hand? the driver asked his conductor as the bonnet reached the midpoint of its ascent. Quickly, the conductor grabbed the metal but almost fumbled with it due to its still-hot temperature. As soon as the bonnet was fully open, he secured it with a thin rod, inserting it between two holes, one at the base of the bonnet and the other at the top.

The vehicle was a used Sprinter minibus and, as a result, it appeared somewhat worn, reflecting the toll of Accra's uneven roads and a lack of proper maintenance. That morning, the driver's conductor had suggested filling the tank with water, but the driver had dismissed the idea as unimportant. Now, they were reaping the consequences of their negligence, inconveniencing the innocent passengers who were caught up in the situation

The cause of the delay became clear: the car had overheated, necessitating an unplanned stop. However, this delay was not an option for the Ansah family or anyone who was running late for church. Most of the passengers, realizing the situation, had chosen to disembark. Many had flagged down other mini-buses, while a few who were near their destination decided to continue on foot. The Ansah family found themselves among the group of passengers who had to proceed on foot.

Mr. Ansah sighed in exasperation, remarking, What a day. He held Kumi's hand as they walked along the street, heading towards their destination, determined to make the most of a challenging situation.

The Ansah family had only a few meters left to reach their destination, determined to make it to church despite being quite late. As they hurried along the roadside, they noticed a group of children playing games like catch-me-if-you-can. It seemed that their parents might have left them to enjoy their playtime while they attended church. Additionally, some of the children were engaged in the traditional game of hoop rolling.

Kumi was somewhat perplexed by this sight. He had always thought that children of his age were expected to attend church on Sundays, particularly for Sunday school. The sight of these children enjoying their games on a Sunday morning held his attention, and it seemed that they were equally unperturbed by the Ansah family's presence as they continued with their games.

The children playing by the roadside appeared content and happy to be left alone at home, especially on a Sunday when it was assumed that everyone else had gone to church. Interestingly, no one seemed to be concerned about them except for Kumi, but there was little he could do in that situation.

As they walked, the elderly man and the young woman walked closely behind the Ansah family. They appeared to be related and were engrossed in a heated argument. The young woman's tone was somewhat disrespectful, while the old man remained calm. He had neatly folded the newspaper in his hand and kept his eyes on the road, trying to understand what the young woman was saying.

Papa, I love him, okay? I'm not getting any younger, and you keep saying he's not the right man for me. When am I going to get married, eh? Tell me, the young woman implored, growing increasingly frustrated. The old man, however, remained silent and seemed resolute in his decision. That morning, they had quarreled about her choice of a husband. She appeared desperate to find a husband as her 30th birthday was approaching.

Just a month ago, she had met a man who had proposed to her, and in her excitement, she had hastily accepted his proposal without much thought. As if that weren't enough, she was persistently pressuring her father to help arrange her wedding for the following month.

How do you expect me to do that for you when I haven't even met him? he had explained when the matter was brought up on a previous occasion. Her father did not approve of the idea, and it had become a topic of discussion even on a Sunday morning.

Mr. Ansah overheard the conversation and silently remarked to himself, Children of today, they won't listen to their parents, even on matters of such great importance. Hmm pathetic. He couldn't help but shake his head at the impulsive decisions being made.

Papa, did you say something. Kumi asked. Oh no! nothing. Where is your mom? He asked. Mrs Ansah had taken the lead. She had a few more steps to make and that was just to cross the  street to the other side of the road where the World Harvest Church was located. She kept wiping the sweat on her face as she walked briskly towards the black gate. Well, let’s hurry." Mr. Ansah said as they also quickened the pace.

CHAPTER 2

The World Harvest Church was bathed in the radiant light of the sun, enhancing its beauty. This two-story building featured a glistening, durable roof that harmonized with the main structure's color. Transparent glass windows surrounded the building, allowing plenty of natural light to filter in. These were the kind of windows that opened to the back rather than sliding.

The main auditorium was spacious, capable of accommodating approximately two hundred people. This was the first building established for the primary services, earning it the name main auditorium. Adjacent to the main building was a two-story structure designated for youth and children's services. The first floor was for children's services, while the second floor was dedicated to the youth.

The entire complex was enclosed by a protective wall, and the only entrance and exit point was a black gate. A billboard was prominently placed at the corner of the compound, mounted above the wall. It faced outward, displaying the name and motto of the church for all to see.

Kumi bid his father farewell and ascended the stairs to the upper level of the church. There, he encountered a group of children gathered around Madam Faith, the Sunday school teacher, who was telling them Bible stories.

Good morning, Auntie Faith, Kumi greeted and found a seat beside a boy who appeared to be thoroughly enjoying the stories. The boy's beaming smile revealed his enthusiasm, and he seemed unfazed by his younger brother's persistent attempts to share his ice cream that morning. It was evident that he played the role of the elder brother.

Madam Faith would occasionally pause to offer gentle instructions, hoping to guide the younger brother's behavior. However, the boy would inevitably return to his pestering ways. The elder brother, though seemingly patient, had his limits. When he'd had enough, he stopped pestering and returned to his own seat, which he had temporarily abandoned to share his brother's seat. He sat down with a look of disappointment on his face, though he refrained from crying.

The elder brother was undoubtedly relieved when his younger sibling stopped pestering him. Madam Faith continued her storytelling until the room was brimming with children. Meanwhile, the church service was in full swing, with people steadily pouring in for their divine encounter.

Ushers tirelessly went about their duties, assisting people in finding their seats and helping children with the stairs. Among them, Cindy stood at the entrance. She had to maintain a warm smile because the influx of people was ongoing, and her right hand was in constant motion, indicating where individuals should sit. As people entered, she would either direct them to other ushers or accompany them to their seats. Occasionally, there were those who wanted to have things their way and sit where they pleased. The ushers would attempt to persuade them to follow the seating arrangements, but not everyone would comply. Cindy, at times, found herself walking alone to a seat when someone she thought she had guided decided to choose a seat at the back instead. While she felt disappointed that her guidance was ignored, her smile remained intact.

During the worship session, the soothing music filled the air, and congregants closed their eyes as their spirits soared in devotion to God. The congregation entered a trance-like state, deeply immersed in their religious fervor. The songs continued for a little while, then a hush fell over the room, followed by soft voices singing songs of thanksgiving.

Meanwhile, a chorus of children's laughter and excitement echoed through the halls. It was time for their cherished praise session, an event that set the stage for their Bible studies and memory verses.

A dedicated team of two or more Sunday school teachers had already arrived, prepared to guide and nurture the young minds. The room was alive with energy, some children bouncing with enthusiasm, while others, still in their early years, couldn't contain their emotions. Tears welled up in their eyes as they yearned to be reunited with their parents in the main auditorium.

Sunday school teachers knew that their task was no easy feat. Little Gifty's story was a testament to their challenges. When Gifty's mother dropped her off that morning, everything seemed fine. But out of nowhere, she began to cry uncontrollably. Her tiny finger pointed insistently toward the door, pleading to be with her mother.

Brother Nick, one of the Sunday school teachers, attempted to soothe her. He gently lifted her into his arms, hoping to provide comfort. However, Gifty had other plans. She squirmed and wriggled until she slipped from Brother Nick's grasp, almost colliding with the cold, tiled floor. It was only a quick reflex that saved her from harm. Gifty didn't seem to be aware of the danger she'd narrowly escaped, but Brother Nick was left in astonishment.

The teachers, recognizing that the situation was reaching its limit, knew it was time to call Gifty's mother. If anything had happened to Gifty, the blame would have fallen squarely on their shoulders.

Kumi stood out as one who rarely caused any trouble. He observed a peculiar habit among his fellow children when Auntie Faith gathered them in prayer to commence the service. Most of the children, in a playful manner, would close one eye and slyly keep the other open to sneak peeks at their companions. They considered it a harmless game, but Kumi had a different perspective.

His father had shared a humorous yet meaningful insight with him – that Jesus didn't visit children who played this peeking game during prayers. It was a way to convey to Kumi that Jesus was always watching, aware of everything he did. This knowledge had a profound impact on him, inspiring him to discourage the other children from their playful antics during prayer. However, his attempts to persuade them fell on deaf ears.

At home, Kumi's father was his guiding light. He would read stories from the Bible, instilling valuable lessons and encouraging Kumi to have a daily conversation with God. The concept of speaking to someone he couldn't see had initially seemed illogical to Kumi. But, following Auntie Faith's recent lesson on obeying parents in the Lord, he embraced this practice as a way of honoring his father's teachings and connecting with his faith.

Sunday school praises had come to an end, and for most of the children, their anticipation was not for the upcoming memory verse but for the yogurt that Auntie Faith had promised them that morning. The clock was ticking toward afternoon, and the sermon in the main auditorium had commenced. The man of God, also the general overseer, stood tall at the pulpit, dressed in a sharp black suit, black trousers, and polished black shoes. The message projected on two screens flanking the main auditorium read, Train Up the Child, the Way He Should Go.

A hush had fallen over the congregation, and all movement had ceased. The preacher's words echoed through the still air. Whatever you teach the child today is what it will carry with it throughout life. If you instil the word of God in a child, it will walk in the path of the Lord. Amen, he declared, continuing his sermon.

Meanwhile, Cindy, a vigilant usher, was on her feet. Her mission was to awaken those who had succumbed to the embrace of sleep during the sermon. It often felt as if there was a silent agreement that people would nod off when it was time for the sermon. Perhaps it was the rhythmic whir of the ceiling fans, which, to be honest, could indeed lull someone to sleep. Sometimes, it was attributed to a sudden sense of weariness, or perhaps the malevolent force seeking to snatch the word, reminiscent of the parable