SAME GOD PART 1
The afternoon sun streamed lazily through the windows of Professor Bamiwo’s office, casting long shadows across the mahogany desk cluttered with papers, textbooks, and an ever-present cup of half-drunk coffee. A soft tune played in the background, an old jazz melody that hummed through the office like an unspoken secret. The gentle knock at the door cut through the music, hesitant yet firm.
“Come in,” Professor Bamiwo called out, adjusting his glasses as he leaned back in his chair.
The door creaked open, revealing a young woman dressed in a modest, well-ironed blouse and a flowing skirt. Her name was Tijesunimi, a final-year student with bright eyes that held both determination and innocence. She stepped in carefully, closing the door behind her.
“Good afternoon, sir,” she greeted politely, her voice steady.
Professor Bamiwo’s face lit up in a smile, though something in his gaze made the room feel smaller, the air thicker.
“Ah, the beautiful Tijesunimi,” he said smoothly. “How are you doing today?”
“I’m fine, sir,” she responded, her hands clasped in front of her.
His eyes roamed over her before he leaned forward, resting his chin on his interlocked fingers. “Look at you, dear. You look so sweet.”
She forced a small, uncomfortable smile. “Thank you, sir.”
“I still don’t know when I will be able to take a scoop from this delicious meal.” His voice had taken on a more suggestive tone.
Tijesunimi’s heart skipped a beat. She stiffened. “Hmmm… sir… the class rep told me you asked to see me.”
Professor Bamiwo chuckled, waving his hand. “Oh yes, that is true.”
A silence stretched between them before she prodded gently, “Yes, sir?”
He looked at her for a moment, then shook his head with a light laugh. “Hmmm, actually, I have forgotten why I said you should see me.”
Tijesunimi blinked. “Okay, sir… will you need me to come back later?”
“Nah,” he said, shaking his head. “I’ll get myself. Your beauty actually made me forget what I wanted to say. But I’m sure I’ll remember soon.”
She shifted her weight uncomfortably. “Hmmm.”
Professor Bamiwo snapped his fingers. “Okay, right now, I remember.”
Tijesunimi sighed in relief. “Thank God, sir.”
“Yes,” he nodded, then smirked. “But you have not answered my question.”
Her brows furrowed. “What question, sir?”
“I asked when you will give me the opportunity to take a scoop from this delicious meal.”
A thick silence settled between them. Tijesunimi stared at him, stunned.
“Sir,” she said cautiously, “I don’t see any meal here.”
Professor Bamiwo chuckled, shaking his head. “Stop it… baby girl, stop it. I am talking about you. Look at your body, so breathtaking.”
Tijesunimi’s grip on the fabric of her skirt tightened. “Sir…”
“Come on, young lady,” he said, his voice dropping into something more sinister. “Tijesunimi, let me be one of the lucky souls who will be a benefactor of this honey pot.”
Tijesunimi took a step back. “Sir, please… I don’t welcome conversations like this.”
He sighed dramatically. “Come on, girl, this is going to be a secret. Let me tell you something, beautiful girl. You are on the list of many lecturers. We like to have a nice time with you. Many have chickened out, but I will not give up until I get there.”
“Sir, please stop,” she said, her voice firm now. “I am not a destination, sir.”
Professor Bamiwo chuckled again, a dark amusement flickering in his eyes. “You are not a destination, but you are the meal waiting as a compensation at the destination for whosoever finally gets there.”
Tijesunimi’s patience snapped. “I am not a meal, sir.”
He leaned back, tilting his head as though savoring a fine wine. “Oh, but you are a full-course meal, my dear.”
His words poured out in a slow, deliberate manner, describing her body with disturbing detail. His tone was thick with desire, his gaze hungry.
Tijesunimi felt nauseous. Every fiber in her being screamed at her to leave, but she stood her ground. “Sir,” she said, “this is sexual harassment. I can’t take it. I have to go now.”
Professor Bamiwo’s expression darkened. “I have not released you.”
Tijesunimi lifted her chin. “Sir, I am a child of God. I am a worker in church. I can’t give in to your demand. I am not that type.”
He sneered. “What type are you?”
“I am God’s standard type.”
His face twisted in frustration. “Why were you not in class today?”
“I went for early morning service, sir.”
He scoffed. “Really?”
“I actually ministered this morning, sir.”
“So that was your reason for missing my class?”
“I am sorry, sir.”
Professor Bamiwo leaned forward, his eyes narrowing. “Were you told that we wrote a test today in class?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Did your class rep give you the full details about the test?”
“Yes, sir. I was told you said the test is 40 marks, and we have 60 left to fight for in the exam.”
“So you threw away 40 marks because of a meaningless ministration?”
Tijesunimi squared her shoulders. “Sir, please. It’s God’s business.”
“Then get your 40 marks from God himself.”
Tijesunimi’s eyes hardened. “Sir, do you really want God himself to step into this matter?”
Professor Bamiwo smirked. “I can’t wait to have Him in the ring.”
Her gaze was unwavering. “Sir, I strongly advise you not to do what you will regret.”
He chuckled, amused. “You make me laugh. Listen to me, Tijesunimi. Are you listening?”
“Yes, sir.”
His voice dropped into a deadly whisper. “I want to sleep with you. I want to have sex with you. Get me right—I want to have sexual intercourse with you. For clarity, I want to have a carnal knowledge of you, and I will do it come what may. If you want to graduate in two months, get the hotel of your choice. I will pay for a room of my choice. And from that room, you will wear your graduation gown.”
Tijesunimi’s fists clenched. “I would rather stay here on campus evangelizing than submit my body to a man who has no regard for the dignity of a woman.”
Professor Bamiwo let out a dry laugh. “Which campus fellowship did you say you pastor?”
“I am not a pastor, sir. I am just a worker in my Master’s vineyard. And the owner of the vineyard does not joke with His children.”
“See you next year,” he sneered.
Tijesunimi met his gaze steadily. “No, sir. I am leaving this campus in two months, and you can’t stop me.”
Professor Bamiwo’s jaw tightened. “Then we shall see.”
Tijesunimi turned toward the door. “Can I go now?”
“Get lost,” he spat.
She paused at the doorway, turning back. “I am lost to the world, sir, but I am found in Christ. Good day.” And with that, she walked out, leaving the suffocating office behind.
The morning sun filtered through the curtains, casting a soft glow on Tijesunimi’s face as her phone buzzed on the nightstand. She groaned, rolling over to glance at the screen. The caller ID displayed “Pastor.” She quickly picked up, her voice still heavy with sleep.
“Hello, sir,” she said, stifling a yawn.
“Good morning, Tijesunimi. How are you?” Pastor’s calm voice came through.
“I’m fine, sir,” she replied, rubbing her temples. “Just resting… slight headache.”
“Sorry, it must be the stress from yesterday.”
Tijesunimi sighed. “That lecturer really got me pissed.”
“Don’t mind him,” Pastor reassured her. “God will deal with him.”
“Yes o, he must learn some lessons,” she muttered.
Pastor’s voice took on a more serious tone. “I had a dream, and I feel led to share it with you.”
Tijesunimi sat up, suddenly alert. “Thank God! I’m glad, sir. Please, what is the dream?”
“In the dream, I saw you planting a seed. A mango seed.”
“Wait, Pastor,” Tijesunimi interrupted, heart pounding. “Was I wearing a blue gown in the dream?”
“Yes,” he confirmed, surprised.
“After I planted the seed, I wanted to walk away, but an elderly man called me back to water it.”
“Exactly,” Pastor said. “You saw the same dream?”
“Yes! But in my dream, I ignored the man and left. Later, I came back and found him uprooting my seed. I was fighting him when I woke up.”
Pastor’s voice was grave. “That’s exactly what I saw, but I saw more.”
Tijesunimi clutched the phone tightly. “Really? Please, what happened next?”
“Did you see a mango tree while you were fighting the man?”
“Yes, I did,” she whispered.
“The man later said that the mango tree was the one you planted. He watered it for you. He said it belongs to you and that it was time to pluck the fruit.”
A shiver ran down her spine. “Wow.”
“That was the end of the dream. Then I woke up,” Pastor said solemnly.
“What does it mean, sir?”
“I have prayed, but God has not revealed the meaning to me yet.”
“Hmmm,” Tijesunimi murmured.
“Don’t worry, we will keep praying.”
Tijesunimi hesitated before speaking. “Sir, before I slept, I had a time of serious thinking. I thought that was why I had the dream. But now that we both saw it at the same time, I think it has more weight.”
“What were you thinking about before you slept?” Pastor asked gently.
She took a deep breath. “Sir, I’m 28 years old. At my age, I shouldn’t still be in school. I’ve had my backsliding years, and I’m grateful God is using me now. But the lecturer’s demand has me scared. If I miss this graduation, I’ll be 29 before I graduate. If I keep resisting him, I might clock 30 and lose my chance to go for service.”
“Stop thinking that way, dear,” Pastor admonished. “Let God handle the situation. I believe you will graduate.”
A sudden knock on her door interrupted the conversation. She turned toward the sound.
“Hold on, please,” she called out loudly.
“You have a visitor?” Pastor asked.
“Yes, sir.”
“Okay, call me when you are free.”
“Okay, sir. Please send my greetings to Mum.”
“I will. She just left here now.”
“Oh, I’ll call to greet her later,” Tijesunimi said.
The call ended, and she quickly unlocked the door, pushing it open. As it closed behind her visitor, she braced herself, wondering what awaited her next. Standing before her was Grace, tears streaming down her face, her body trembling as she clutched the doorframe for support.
“Grace, what is it?” Tijesunimi asked, concern etching deep into her features.
Grace shook her head vigorously, gasping for breath between sobs. “Ha! I am finished!”
Tijesunimi placed a firm but gentle hand on her friend’s shoulder. “You are not finished in Jesus’ name! Speak to me, what happened?”
Grace covered her face with her hands and let out a wretched cry. “Haaa, I have entered this trap already! Only God can save me now!”
“Thank God you know that already,” Tijesunimi said, leading her inside and shutting the door behind them. “Calm down and tell me exactly what happened.”
Grace sniffled and wiped her face, though fresh tears quickly replaced the old ones. “It’s the HOD…”
Tijesunimi stiffened. “Prof. Bamiwo?”
Grace nodded. “Yes. He called me to his office today. He said… he said if I want to avoid a carryover in his course, I have to spend a night with him.” Her voice broke again. “I want to graduate next year, Tijesunimi! Everyone says falling into his trap means staying here longer!”
Tijesunimi’s hands clenched into fists. “What on earth is wrong with this man?”
“I don’t know!” Grace wailed. “He wants to ruin my life!”
Tijesunimi exhaled sharply, then took Grace’s hands in hers. “God will not allow him. We need to pray.”
Grace nodded frantically, her eyes wide with desperation. “I believe you, I believe God, I believe in your prayers!”
“We should all believe in God,” Tijesunimi affirmed as they knelt on the floor together.
“Ha, God, I believe in You alone!” Grace cried.
Tijesunimi closed her eyes and took a deep breath, her voice steady as she began. “Heavenly Father, we bless You.”
“Yes, Lord,” Grace echoed, squeezing her hands together.
“You said in Your word that You will answer us when we cry unto You.”
“Yes, Lord!”
“Lord, Professor Bamiwo is the reason we are here.”
“Yes, O Lord! It is that wicked man!”
“It is time to step into this matter, Lord.”
“Yes, Lord!”
Tijesunimi lifted her voice with authority. “I decree and declare that you, Professor Bamiwo, hear the word of the Lord!”
Grace shouted, “Yes! Open your ears and hear the tormenting word of God!”
“As I say, so shall it be!”
“Amen!”
“Let Grace go!”
“Amen!” Grace screamed, her tears now mixing with determination.
“Your spirit is arrested right away!”
“Amen!”
“Everything that gives you peace ceases right now in Jesus’ name!”
“Amen!”
“You lose yourself, and you let Grace go in Jesus’ name!”
“Amen!”
Tijesunimi’s voice took on an edge of righteous fury. “That brain of yours, filled with dirty and wicked thoughts—I speak to the source of your filthiness right now. Let it begin to cease in the name of Jesus!”
“Amen!”
“Grace is coming back to you right away! I decree, let her go in Jesus’ name!”
“Amen!”
“When you set your eyes on her again, favor will be your only expression in Jesus’ name!”
“Amen!”
“If you fail to favor her and set her free, you will experience discomfort in the name of Jesus!”
“Amen!”
“So shall it be! In Jesus’ mighty name, we have prayed!”
“Amen!” Grace declared, strength returning to her voice.
Tijesunimi turned to her. “Grace, don’t cry anymore. Leave right now and go straight to his office.”
Grace’s eyes widened. “Now?”
“Yes, now. Wipe your tears.”
Grace hesitated for a moment, then straightened her posture and wiped her face. “Yes, ma.”
“Now go, right away.”
Grace nodded firmly. “Thank you so much. I will keep you posted.”
Tijesunimi smiled reassuringly. “Very good. God is with you.”
As Grace stepped out, Tijesunimi sat back on the bed, her heart pounding. The battle wasn’t over yet, but she knew one thing for sure—God would fight for them.
Grace walked briskly through the university corridors, her heart pounding with each step. The sun had begun its slow descent, casting a warm, golden hue over the campus. Students loitered around, engaged in laughter and idle chatter, but none of that mattered to her at the moment. She needed to see Professor Bamiwo.
She stopped in front of his office door, hesitating for a brief moment before knocking firmly.
“Yes, come in,” came the professor’s deep voice from inside.
Taking a deep breath, she pushed the door open and stepped inside. The office was neatly arranged, with bookshelves lining the walls, stacked with academic journals and thick textbooks. Professor Bamiwo sat behind his desk, peering over his glasses at her with a smile.
“Oh, Grace!” he greeted warmly. “How are you doing?”
She forced a small smile. “I am fine, sir.”
He studied her face for a moment, his expression turning slightly concerned. “You don’t look like your usual self. What’s wrong?”
“I’m fine, sir,” she repeated, her voice barely above a whisper.
“Is it money?” he asked, leaning forward slightly.
“Not at all, sir.”
He raised an eyebrow. “That is a lie. Tell me what happened.”
Grace shifted uncomfortably. She knew this conversation had to happen, but it wasn’t any easier. “I am here about my result,” she finally admitted.
“Oh, yes!” Professor Bamiwo nodded, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. “Please check that box over there; your result should be inside.”
She turned toward the large wooden box filled with folders and documents, sifting through them carefully.
“Bring me the folder on top while you’re at it,” he added.
“Okay, sir.” She retrieved the folder and handed it over before continuing her search.
The professor flipped through the folder’s pages. “Let me check your score.”
Grace swallowed hard, watching as his eyes scanned the document. Then, his brows furrowed slightly.
“Oh… it’s empty,” he murmured. “Why? How could I have forgotten to enter your score? That’s not good enough. What sort of omission is this? Sorry about that.”
She nodded politely. “It’s fine, sir.”
Professor Bamiwo let out a sigh and gestured toward the box again. “Alright, check through that box. The answer sheets are inside. Find yours.”
Grace flipped through the stack of papers, her fingers trembling slightly until she finally pulled out her script. “Here it is, sir.”
He adjusted his glasses. “What did you score?”
“Forty-nine, sir.”
He leaned back in his chair. “But why?”
She lowered her gaze. “I can’t explain, sir.”
“Is that what you actually scored, or what I gave you?”
Grace hesitated before replying, “I guess it’s what I wrote that earned me this score, sir.”
Professor Bamiwo studied her for a moment, then nodded approvingly. “Hmm… You’re honest. I’ll give you five extra marks then.”
Her eyes widened in surprise. “Wow! Thank you, sir!”
“That makes it fifty-four, right?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Good… That’s done.” He took his pen, jotted something down, and handed the paper back to her.
“Thank you so much, sir.”
“Please arrange the papers properly and return the box.”
“Yes, sir.”
As she carefully placed the sheets back in order, she couldn’t help but feel a wave of relief wash over her. She had come in with fear and uncertainty but was leaving with gratitude.
“You’re welcome,” Professor Bamiwo said with a smile as she turned to leave.
With a final glance, she exited the office, feeling lighter than she had in days.
Grace walked briskly through the university corridors, her heart pounding with each step. The sun had begun its slow descent, casting a warm, golden hue over the campus. Students loitered around, engaged in laughter and idle chatter, but none of that mattered to her at the moment. She needed to see Professor Bamiwo.
She stopped in front of his office door, hesitating for a brief moment before knocking firmly.
“Yes, come in,” came the professor’s deep voice from inside.
Taking a deep breath, she pushed the door open and stepped inside. The office was neatly arranged, with bookshelves lining the walls, stacked with academic journals and thick textbooks. Professor Bamiwo sat behind his desk, peering over his glasses at her with a smile.
“Oh, Grace!” he greeted warmly. “How are you doing?”
She forced a small smile. “I am fine, sir.”
He studied her face for a moment, his expression turning slightly concerned. “You don’t look like your usual self. What’s wrong?”
“I’m fine, sir,” she repeated, her voice barely above a whisper.
“Is it money?” he asked, leaning forward slightly.
“Not at all, sir.”
He raised an eyebrow. “That is a lie. Tell me what happened.”
Grace shifted uncomfortably. She knew this conversation had to happen, but it wasn’t any easier. “I am here about my result,” she finally admitted.
“Oh, yes!” Professor Bamiwo nodded, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. “Please check that box over there; your result should be inside.”
She turned toward the large wooden box filled with folders and documents, sifting through them carefully.
“Bring me the folder on top while you’re at it,” he added.
“Okay, sir.” She retrieved the folder and handed it over before continuing her search.
The professor flipped through the folder’s pages. “Let me check your score.”
Grace swallowed hard, watching as his eyes scanned the document. Then, his brows furrowed slightly.
“Oh… it’s empty,” he murmured. “Why? How could I have forgotten to enter your score? That’s not good enough. What sort of omission is this? Sorry about that.”
She nodded politely. “It’s fine, sir.”
Professor Bamiwo let out a sigh and gestured toward the box again. “Alright, check through that box. The answer sheets are inside. Find yours.”
Grace flipped through the stack of papers, her fingers trembling slightly until she finally pulled out her script. “Here it is, sir.”
He adjusted his glasses. “What did you score?”
“Forty-nine, sir.”
He leaned back in his chair. “But why?”
She lowered her gaze. “I can’t explain, sir.”
“Is that what you actually scored, or what I gave you?”
Grace hesitated before replying, “I guess it’s what I wrote that earned me this score, sir.”
Professor Bamiwo studied her for a moment, then nodded approvingly. “Hmm… You’re honest. I’ll give you five extra marks then.”
Her eyes widened in surprise. “Wow! Thank you, sir!”
“That makes it fifty-four, right?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Good… That’s done.” He took his pen, jotted something down, and handed the paper back to her.
“Thank you so much, sir.”
“Please arrange the papers properly and return the box.”
“Yes, sir.”
As she carefully placed the sheets back in order, she couldn’t help but feel a wave of relief wash over her. She had come in with fear and uncertainty but was leaving with gratitude.
“You’re welcome,” Professor Bamiwo said with a smile as she turned to leave.
With a final glance, she exited the office, feeling lighter than she had in days.
Tijesunimi sat in the modest but cozy office of her pastor, the air thick with the scent of old books and fresh anointing oil. The wooden desk between them was cluttered with Bibles, sermon notes, and a steaming cup of tea the pastor had barely touched. He leaned forward, his kind eyes searching hers with concern.
“Tijesunimi, where were you yesterday?” he asked, his voice both firm and gentle. “Yesterday was your birthday. We tried to reach out to you, to celebrate with you, but you were nowhere to be found. Your phone was switched off, and no one could reach you.”
She sighed heavily, looking down at her hands. “Sorry, sir. I was on a personal retreat.”
A knowing smile crossed his face as he nodded. “I thought as much. How was the prayer and fellowship with God?”
Her lips quivered, and when she finally spoke, her voice was laced with exhaustion. “Pastor…” She hesitated, her shoulders sagging. “I am tired.”
The pastor’s expression shifted, his brow furrowing in concern. “Oh no.”
“Really, I am tired,” she repeated, her voice breaking slightly.
“Please don’t,” he pleaded, his tone gentle but firm.
She swallowed hard, blinking back tears. “I have successfully spent two extra years in this school.”
The pastor sighed, rubbing his hands together as though trying to form the right words. “Tijesunimi, please don’t let the devil rob you of your joy.”
Her laughter was bitter and hollow. “What joy, Pastor? What joy? Prof. Bamiwo said if I did not sleep with him, I would not graduate.” Her voice cracked, and the tears she had been holding back spilled down her cheeks. “I told him my God will show him pepper. Right now, God has joined him to show me shage.”
The pastor remained silent, letting her words settle. He knew better than to interrupt a heart that was pouring itself out.
“God is a loving father to His children,” she continued, “but maybe I am not one of them.”
“Tijesunimi, God loves you so much,” he said softly.
She shook her head, her despair deepening. “No, I don’t think so.”
“Come on,” he urged. “Even from your name—Tijesunimi—have you forgotten its meaning? You are God’s own. This is just a trying period. Please, don’t give in to the deception of the devil.”
Her lips trembled as she whispered, “Pastor, I am thirty years old, and my life is still stagnant.”
“No, it is not, dear.”
She looked at him with weary eyes. “How is it not stagnant?”
“Please, don’t do this to yourself.”
A dry, humorless laugh escaped her. “I think I am Esau in the sight of God.”
“Stop it,” the pastor commanded gently. “I thought you said you went to pray and fellowship with God. Don’t forget the great things He is doing through you.”
Her expression darkened. “Oh, maybe that’s it.”
“What?” he asked, his concern deepening.
“Maybe God was just using me all this while.”
The pastor sighed, his heart breaking for her. “Where is all this coming from?”
She wiped at her tears angrily. “You know what? I counted seventeen different ladies that this man wanted to sleep with. Seventeen, Pastor! I prayed with them, and God answered their prayers. Prof. Bamiwo let them go. But God has left mine unanswered.”
He exhaled slowly, nodding for her to continue.
“All these people I prayed with are younger than me in Christ. Some of them have even graduated. Some are even married. This is a shame on me, Pastor! Which God did I pray to about their cases? Is it not this same God? I have done great things for Him on this campus. Under my ministration, people gave their lives to Christ. People got their healing. People got their destiny reshaped. But here I am, wallowing in the net of one professor.”
Her voice broke entirely, and she sobbed openly. The pastor stood and walked around his desk, placing a comforting hand on her shoulder. “Tijesunimi,” he said softly, “God’s delays are not denials. You are not forgotten. He sees you. He hears you. And He is working—though you may not see it yet.”
She closed her eyes, letting his words wash over her. But deep in her heart, the question remained—when would God remember her?
TO BE CONTINUED IN PART 2
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