Free Lagoon by Nnedi Okorafor

Americans.Al-Qaeda. Sickness. The British. Bad luck. Devils. Poverty. Women. Fate. 419. Biafra. The bad roads. The military. Corruption.
    Father Oke raised his hands to quiet his flock of sheep. He had the answers for them. He was holy. They grew silent, including Chris, who looked at Father Oke in earnest. As much as he could love a man, in this moment, he loved Father Oke very much.
    â€œHave no fear!” Father Oke told Chris. “ I will save your wife.”
    His sheep sighed with relief.
    â€œTell everyone about your wife’s friend, Brother Chris,” he said.
    Chris nodded, but frowned. What did his wife’s cure have to do with that one? But he trusted Father Oke. “Last night,” Chris said, “my wife brought something home with her. A . . . a visitor. A true visitor. I saw—”
    Father Oke quickly spoke up. “A visitor from outer space ! An alien! An extraterrestrial!” he said, dramatically rolling his r ’s. The entire church went silent. This was the shock Father Oke had hoped to cause. Perfect. “It is in Brother Chris’s home! It is only the first of many!” he continued. “You see the news, all these strange things happening. We are being visited , my friends.”
    He paused as people started talking among themselves.
    â€œ Kai! I knew it!” a man exclaimed to the woman beside him. “Didn’t I tell you? There is no smoke without fire!”
    â€œWhy here? Why here?”
    â€œI didn’t see a damn thing last night.”
    â€œWe all go die, o!”
    When the chatter began to swell into panic, Father Oke shouted, “Calm down! Calm down! Listen!”
    Near instant silence. He had these people eating out of his hand. It was beautiful. Thanks be to God, he thought. “You have seen today how I handle witches and their devilry. Have faith in my power to heal! Now, these visitors, my friends, they mean us no harm,” he said. He laughed confidently and leaned against the pulpit, holding his microphone to his lips. “I have seen the one at Brother Chris’shouse. These are people who need to be saved! We will welcome them, enfold them into our flock. Wash them in the Blood of Christ! Make them immaculate.” He paused, smiling at their frightened faces.
    â€œWho will join me? Who will come with me to Brother Chris’s home to enfold this intelligent creature into our flock? Who will make our church the first in all of Lagos, in the WORLD, to do such a thing? Who will come with me and do God’s will?”
    There was only silence. Father Oke looked into the crowd of faces, and what he saw made him feel a pinch of doubt. Cowards. All of them. Frail. Afraid. The Lord has given me weak vessels, he thought with despair. Then someone in the back started singing. The voice was shaky and panicked. Father Oke knew who it was: Memory Fulami, one of his craziest parishioners. She’d joined his flock four years ago and came to church twice a day. She sang too loudly, smelled like dirty sweat, and was known for shouting at girls who wore tight jeans. She drove him crazy. She had a voice that would kill every cockroach in that filthy “face me, I face you” compound she lived in down the road. But at this moment, of his entire congregation, he loved her the most. Father Oke dug his nails into his leg as he fought to hold the pleasant smile on his face.
    â€œCount your blessings, see what God has done,
    Count your blessings, name them one by one,
    And it will surprise you what the Lord has done.”
    The others began to join her. Maybe it was to drown out her awful voice or maybe it was a show of true solidarity. It didn’t matter. Soon the entire church was singing their support for Father Oke.
    Everyone except Chris.

CHAPTER 13
    CHIN CHIN
    They stood in Adaora’s living room, uneasy. The afternoon sun streamed in, bouncing off the white leather couches and chairs and the white