TVOTRIBESMEN

That day the preacher-man went mad, everything he did was against the church itself. When he preached, he stamped his feet on the white tiles and clasped the microphone between his palms. When he sang, the church muffled and swayed from here to there like an Iroko tree blown by the desert wind. He called out verses – he carefully picked the verses – the ones that were long, long enough to throw the congregation in disarray of whispers.