"Don't go people. Please nobody should leave. The rain will soon be over. The devil is a liar,'' the preacher kept vibrating boldly that 6pm holding the gasping microphone now sounding like a man with squeaky gullet. But that was for those who cared to listen for there was no canopy. He was drowned to his shorts as he stood on the three-step wooden podium proclaiming, and the water plastering his white sleeves to his chest. The thunder began to roar more and the field was gradually empty.
His engineers ran with umbrellas to shade the lying speakers five feet from the pulpit.
Some perturbed ladies were running out covering their braids with black leathers.
The choir in pink who did a powerful song half an hour ago when the clouds were only dark were standing at one corner and beside one another, drenched.
Myriad of the few that weren't snaking or running out were squating in a fetal position, head bowed with the rain dropping hard on them, locking most of their view.
Those who came to get healed were murmuring home with their chin dropped to their chest and arms folded in the mighty rain. The crust was blanketed with flowing streams.
As shocking as how a pool sits inside the coconut, a blind man began to see.
"i can see! i can see!" he kept punctuating, his voice slightly above the hammering waters. The tall, black man ran with his stick to the front jumping with arms almost pulling out of his shoulders.
Those who were on their route home turned looking for where the shout was coming from.
They knew him well, and his sister had brought him. She was behind him grinning in joy and waving with eyes above as the rain showered.
In ten minutes, a praise service began in the rain and they didn't just run back, they invited others.
There came other harvest of miracles till the rain ceased.
Moral: God still do wonders
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