The discovery of an orbital dermoid inside my right eye socket remains one of my most startling childhood memories. The tiny growth came into view one afternoon as I played around with a mirror.
This marked the beginning of a 5-year-long intervention that saw me visit a prayer altar, before ending up in an optical theatre for an excision procedure.
Initially unsure of what it was, I did not take much notice of this small, unusual mass.
It was not until one afternoon that I woke up in class from a brief nap during lunch hour. I struggled to regain my vision for minutes; everything was pitch black, even with my eyes straining wide open.
Back home, I reported the experience to my family, prompting curious eye examinations by my mum and dad. Everyone was intrigued by this dark red structure. My mother was particularly unsettled, struggling with how the thing beat her observant eye.
The Crusade
Not long after that, a popular preacher from the region pitched camp in our neighborhood for an entire weekend.
Accompanied by a contingent of worshippers, evangelists, and with powerful sound equipment, his crusade created a huge buzz.
My friends and I were onlookers as the revival meetings occupied what was then our favorite playground.
The makeshift altar was pitched right in between the upper goal posts, with the congregation sprawling the entire length of the pitch.
More people trooped in as others climbed onto the altar for special prayers. My eyes were fixated on this seemingly revered preacher.
He was a tall guy with a lean frame, with a demeanor that demonstrated utmost commitment to his ministry. From his appearance, I reckoned the man fasted at least 7 days a week.
His dutiful wife also came onto the platform. Donning a long cloak, she was also lean and looked like a formidable prayer warrior.
It never crossed my mind that months later, I’d find myself at their doorstep.
My Date With Deliverance
The momentary blackouts became more frequent, disrupting my studies in the process. And since I hadn’t seen a doctor, their connection to the eye growth remained unclear.
Since the cyst failed to disappear on its own, as everyone had hoped, it was time to intervene.
It was decided that the first move to make was to the prayer altar to disabuse the possibility of dark powers at play.
There was no better person to handle this than this man of God. I was ushered into his church compound one evening for a special appointment with him.
We were led into a small holding room and waited there in silence. After a while, I saw him approaching, emerging slowly from the far end of the room.
I sat motionless, every sense sharpened, every nerve alert, straining to feel even the faintest touch of the divine. I felt nothing.
I hoped the trance would come during the prayer session. The man of God had already been briefed on my issue and didn’t waste a moment.
He offered his diagnosis swiftly, blaming the proverbial dark forces for my predicament.
Here we go, I muttered under my breath, steeling myself for whatever was about to unfold. With my eyes closed, I felt his cold hand touch my face, with his nondescript ring pressing against my skull.
The prayer session was reaching its peak, and the moment felt closer than ever. The moment when the Holy Spirit’s power would sweep me off my feet.
The moment when I would fall, suddenly and without notice, overwhelmed by a force far greater than myself.
Back at the crusade, I had seen people rolling around the altar in what looked like holy chaos.
The entire space was electric with everyone deep in prayer, moving frantically as if carried by an unseen force.
The music team had orchestrated the atmosphere flawlessly, creating a soundscape that felt divine. This was the moment I had been waiting for.
To my surprise, I felt nothing. No surge, no trembling, no divine spark. Then, the unexpected happened.
With one arm supporting me, the pastor gave a gentle push and eased me to the floor, where we continued exorcising demons.
I lay there, eyes closed, unsure whether to surrender or resist. But inside, I wrestled with silence, no fire, no revelation, just the weight of waiting.
In the end, the moment I had long anticipated slipped quietly past me, leaving more questions than answers.
It was not until 4 years later that the cyst was fully dealt with under the bright lights of the operating room. The surgery was successful, lasting just under 30 minutes.
