<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
Oluomachukwu sat at the second row in the audience, lost in her own thoughts – her eyes fixed on the speaker. These days, she preferred to be called Oluchi. The speaker was a large man and who wore a gleaming silver necklace draped his neck, the cross pendant landing softly at the top of his stomach.<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
\u201cMarriage is not as easy as it looks! In fact, it is very hard! Without guidance from God\u2019s true servants, the devil will scheme his way into that union and destroy it!\u201d he roared. The crowd cheered in approval.<\/p>\n
\u201cA successful marriage consists of God first, two people who are soul mates, and a true man of God. Yes! Write that down.\u201d He continued.<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
Oluchi had her Sunday journal open since the sermon began. She penned his words and looked down at them as if she had obtained solid gold for half the price. She had just turned 28 the week before and that was precisely the problem, she reasoned. If she was married already, she would be a respectable wife, cooking her husband dinner every evening dutifully, never entertaining the temptation that led her to the club last week, focusing only on her new life as a respectable woman in the society. She wanted to marry. She wanted it badly. These days, a relationship status did not mean anything.<\/p>\n
She looked at her handwriting. It had not changed since secondary school in Enugu when her mother sold Okpa<\/em>, and yards of cloth to see her through St. Mary Girls College. University was not even a topic that was mentioned around the house. So when she was awarded a full university scholarship from one of those\u00a0Nnukwu <\/em>companies, like her mother called them, whose exams she casually wrote, she looked at the opportunity as God\u2019s reward for her mother\u2019s hard work and prayers and tears.<\/p>\n <\/p>\n She was six years old when her father moved out of their old apartment on Mbosi Street. He packed his wooden box carefully; he had always been a meticulous man. The yellow taxi was waiting outside, in the rain. \u201cThink of Oluomachukwu! Look at her!\u201d her mother said in Igbo. \u201cLee ya anya!\u201d But her father carefully avoided all eye contact. His eyes, reticent behind his spectacles, were a bit swollen from his own crying. Her mother was crying in the parlour. She would speak at him whenever he carried an item out to the waiting taxi.<\/p>\n \u201cGod will take care of the two of you\u201d was the last thing he said to them, looking at them before the taxi drove away. He was crying, but tears were nothing compared to God\u2019s Special Will.<\/p>\n <\/p>\n Oluomachukwu Madumere was the only daughter of her parents. Her father Jude said it was God\u2019s Special Will for him to leave them. God told him he was Special. And his calling would only begin to manifest if he left his family and married God\u2019s Special Will for him. Oluchi idolised him. So it was hard not to believe him totally. Now, years later, she accepted it as one of the mysteries of God she would never understand.<\/p>\n And so it was, that when she moved to Lagos, she remained vigilant like a sentinel, wary of young men who looked at her too long. But time was passing. And her mother called her more often now, to check on her as she said, making a point to give her details of the latest weddings of her friends\u2019 daughters. Her phone vibrated and she was transported back into the service. The preacher was saying something about writing down the names of possible suitors, \u201cfor special prayers at the vigil this Friday\u201d he said, the humungous black ring on his last finger catching the light\u2026<\/p>\n <\/p>\n Find out what happens next in Oluchi\u2019s quest for a suitor in the next edition of HH People!<\/em><\/strong><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" By Kelechi Odoemelam, United Capital Plc Oluomachukwu sat at the second row in the audience, lost in her own thoughts – her eyes fixed on the speaker. These days, she preferred to be called Oluchi. The speaker was a large man and who wore a gleaming silver necklace draped his neck, the cross […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[33],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-4152","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-features"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.heirsholdings.com\/hhpeople\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/4152","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.heirsholdings.com\/hhpeople\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.heirsholdings.com\/hhpeople\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.heirsholdings.com\/hhpeople\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.heirsholdings.com\/hhpeople\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=4152"}],"version-history":[{"count":2,"href":"https:\/\/www.heirsholdings.com\/hhpeople\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/4152\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":4154,"href":"https:\/\/www.heirsholdings.com\/hhpeople\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/4152\/revisions\/4154"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.heirsholdings.com\/hhpeople\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=4152"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.heirsholdings.com\/hhpeople\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=4152"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.heirsholdings.com\/hhpeople\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=4152"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}