WARNING!
This article contains stories that most ‘church
people’ don’t want to address. So, if you are one of those living in
denial and covering up crap going on in the church, this is where you
should stop reading. Thanks for stopping by.
Now,
for the rest of us, please sit down and switch on your open mind. I
want to talk about something I have kept bottled up inside for longer
than necessary. I have also decided to use real names, as my defense for
any accusation of slander is justification. I tell the truth, the whole
truth and nothing but. However, feel free to throw your doubt around
but know that I am past the shaming game (where victims of abuse are
shot down by blame) I am no longer a victim but a survivor who is
sharing her experience to help others caught in same web of abuse, guilt
and shame. We only get to live once right? So here, it goes…
I
recently came to know this event too was abuse (recently here means
about 6 months ago). It has literally been eating me up having to drive
by another billboard advertising preachers, or hearing his name, or even
trying to ask about the validity of the entire salvation story and
whether or not there is a God that truly watches over his people. That
being said, I’m just going to say it as it is. This is a recap of my
affair with Pastor Biodun Fatoyinbo of COZA (Common Wealth Of Zion
Assembly) Abuja chapter. This affair I have come to know as a form of
abuse as you would see the different elements of abuse very present.
I
met Pastor Biodun Fatoyinbo many years ago. I was getting bored of the
church I was attending and someone suggested COZA. At the time, I had
never heard about it. My friend said, go there, I’m sure you would enjoy
the word. But he also gave me a strong warning. He said he would advice
that I remain a member only and not join the workforce. I agreed. The
first time I attended COZA, I felt it was my church and decided I was
going to plant my Bottom there. About eleven months had gone by and I
was still attending the services quietly and faithfully. I really did
like the church. One day a worker in the church approached me that the
senior pastor wanted to see me.
Me? I thought. Why would the
senior pastor want to see me? Not the second man but the head nigga in
charge? Ok na! I started to think my sin was oozing so bad the pastor
could tell I needed Jesus. (Poor old me.) I saw him at the end of the
second service (they had two services at the time) and he said to me
that he would like me to work with him. I knew I had no intentions of
becoming a pastor so I had to ask in what capacity. He said he’d like
for me to join a department, preferably the Pastoral Care Unit (PCU).
A
few weeks later, against my friend’s advice not to join the workforce, I
was a PCU member. All of a sudden, I had some status in church. I was
‘somebody.’ Dress had to be on point, hair, shoes and what not… As
workers, we were literally trying to outshine each other or so it
seemed. Anyways, I felt like I was a privileged member of an elite
circle. Hehehe. (It did feel good though, for the most part.)
About
a year after joining the workforce, I was on my way to London for a
Masters degree program that would last two years. As was the rule for
workers travelling, I wrote to say I would be away for 2 years and
Pastor Biodun Fotoyinbo asked that I keep in touch by sending him my
number and email when I had settled in London so he “makes sure I
continue in the faith” because according to him, people loose their
faith when they leave home and he wanted to make sure I didn’t. So, on
that note, as soon as I got a phone line in London, I was sure to call
‘my pastor’ to say I arrived safe, had settled in and also gave my phone
number.
We had spoken a few times especially when COZA started
to stream online. I always watched and would give feedback on quality of
production and share a little bit on the challenges I faced settling in
a new land. One evening, Pastor Biodun Fatoyinbo called me that he was
coming to London and needed me to help him make some hotel bookings as
the person who was meant to do it couldn’t get it done (this was rather
strange as I had never been involved in his travel itinerary) Later that
day, he said it had been sorted and my help would not be required but
that he would like me to arrange a cab to pick him up from Heathrow. I
was happy to help my pastor from Nigeria and even saw it as a privilege.
(I would later come to learn that all of this was a calculated attempt
to hatch a plan that I suspect was set in motion when I was asked to
join the workforce.)
The cab guy was there to get him the next
day and when he arrived, he called to ask why I didn’t accompany the cab
to pick him up (again, this was strange but I stopped my mind from
overanalyzing the situation as I knew I had no business with his visit
to London) About two hours later, he called me and said he would like to
see me. When I arrived his hotel, I called from the reception but he
asked that I come upstairs. I got to the room and tried to stop my mind
from thinking why I was going to his room. As he opened the door and
invited me in, I had to speak to my heart to stop its palpitations. My
better judgment asked me not to go into the room but the kind of
reverence I had for Pasotr Biodun Fatoyinbo bordered on fear and I
steeped into that room.
“Care for a drink?” Asked Pastor Biodun Fatoyinbo.
“No sir,” I said.
“You
don’t have to be shy Ese, even if it’s alcohol, feel free and order
what you want.” I wasn’t sure I heard my pastor asking me to order
alcohol. I imagined it was a test and ignored the voice inside that was
saying, “I’d have henny and coke please.” He proceeded to ask how I had
been coping in London and if I was a committed member of any church. He
also said he thought there was something special about me and wanted to
know that I had not strayed from my faith. I really thought he had heard
I was doing something I shouldn’t while in London but tried my best to
focus on the conversation instead of my straying thoughts. He kept
telling me to relax and feel comfortable with talking to him. After a
few minutes, he asked that we go to the roof of the hotel as his room
was a pent suit and had a connecting door to the roof.
While
there, he sat on a reclining chair and asked me to come sit on his laps.
This was a bit awkward for me and I froze for a moment as I asked why.
He said he had told me to feel free with him and loosen up. I found
myself strolling to sit on his laps. At that moment, I felt like a
little girl who was experiencing something her mind couldn’t fathom. He
asked me to kiss him and all I could think about was seeing him preach
on the pulpit back in COZA Abuja, Nigeria, which was my home church. He
again said ‘feel free Ese.’ And asked again, that I kiss him.
A
few hours later, let’s just say, we were rolling under the sheets. It
felt as though my mind had paused. I am not saying I was jazzed,
(although it’s possible I was in some trancelike state and didn’t know
it but I just was so afraid that I couldn’t say or think otherwise.)
That was the beginning of this affair. A intimate affair that went on
for a little over a week, DAILY!
I can hear somebody’s mind
thinking, ‘well, you weren’t Molested.” And I remember a pastor I opened
up to when I couldn’t take all the mind games asking if I seduced him.
No, I didn’t seduce him and no, I wasn’t Molested but I felt trapped in
this affair. Come to think of it, how could I have seduced him when I
wanted nothing from him? I mean, I was too busy minding my business in
London trying to get through with my masters program and I was overly
comfortable. And even if I wanted to seduce anyone, it wouldn’t be a
married man, not to mention a married pastor.
What I couldn’t
reconcile the whole time, was how the same person who preached against
the very things we were doing (i.e drinking in pubs, fornicating,
committing adultery) was the same person endorsing and encouraging it.
At
some point, I got really confused about what Pastor Biodun Fatoyinbo
and I were doing that I had to ask how he handles it. I will never
forget what he said to me. He said and I quote, “I will teach you a
level of grace that you don’t understand.” My mind couldn’t fathom that
somehow grace was enough covering for not just fornication on my path,
adultery on his path and the many lies that was bound to follow what we
were doing that was clearly abominable. I somehow dealt with the
thoughts and fears that followed on my path. He had said to me that he
wanted me to be his girlfriend and he would take me around the world and
spoil me with money and things. Somehow, money had never been one of
the things that motivated me (I am from a home where all my needs have
been adequately met) In all my ‘badness’ through finding myself, I never
did things I did for money but more of rebellion against rules and
authority.
Pastor Biodun Fatoyinbo also said to me that he had a
dream where I exposed what was happening to the media. Said it was all
over the place and that people were calling me the girl that caused
chaos in COZA. He also said I should remember the bible said to “touch
not God’s anointed.” I immediately started to rebuke the devil and said I
could never do anything like that. I was almost swearing with my entire
family as I thought really I had touched God’s anointed by submitting
my body to be used. Little did I know at the time that all of these were
ways to mess with my mind and even manipulate my thoughts.
Fast-forward
a few months later, I was back in Nigeria and my church had become
uncomfortable. Anytime I sat in church and listened to Pastor Biodun
preach, I felt shame. I finally sent him a message saying I wasn’t
comfortable anymore. I was confused and needed to talk about what had
happened. He said I should meet him to talk and I did. It was a really
weird meeting for me especially when he tried to kiss me at our meeting.
I finally realized at this point that he couldn’t help me. I thought
God was angry with me and I couldn’t pray so I decided to withdraw
completely from COZA. This was the beginning of my mental torture. I
couldn’t talk to my family because already, I was the only one attending
a different church and somehow my mom never liked the idea. As the days
went by I tried to use drinking and smoking to cover up the deep shame
and guilt I was battling with. But as soon as the high was over, the
thoughts came back and I felt stuck like I couldn’t move forward.
I
felt I had to talk to someone and I decided to speak to my then good
friend, Ernest Akale but unfortunately for me, Mr. Ernest did not have
the capacity to hold what I said to him. He broke down completely the
days that followed and I found myself having to pause how I was feeling
and what I was struggling with to help my friend be strong. After a
while, he withdrew from not just me but his then fiancé and friends. I
had to then tell the fiancé what had caused it (she suspected we were
having an affair so I had to clear the air) To my surprise she was a lot
stronger than her man and told me to suck it up (I’m paraphrasing). She
said if she were me, she wouldn’t leave the church but stay to torment
Pastor Biodun and collect money from him. Ok! That sounded extreme for
me, as my intention was not to blackmail but to heal my broken self.
Anyways, I finally found the courage to speak to my then unit head who
said he was going to talk to Pastor Biodun but didn’t have the liver to
do so. Before long, the story was spreading and naturally getting
twisted.
I went to a new church and it seemed like the COZA bug
had chased me there. The pastor would always refer to COZA as some
example and each time that was done, it seemed like a spear was thrust
through my chest. One day, I broke down in the service and started
crying uncontrollably, as I couldn’t take another mention of COZA and
the pictures it painted in my head.
Very long, boring story cut
short, for the last 5 months I gave the whole church thing a big space
and break. I wasn’t sure I believed in God. I wasn’t sure I understood
what it meant when people said ‘Jesus saves” and I definitely wasn’t
sure how to deal with the mental torture that was affecting not just me
but my relationships with family and friends. I was very unstable,
fearful and worst of all guilty. I got a chance to talk to Pastor
Folarin of COZA Lagos Chapter, popularly called Pastor flo about
everything. I made an effort to reach out to him because I realized the
right thing to do was talk to an elder in the church and seek some sort
of remedy to a wrong I believed had been done me. Instead, Pastor Flo
said, Pastor Biodun had confessed to him and they had ‘talked’ about it
and somehow that was supposed to be Ok. He asked what it was I wanted
coming to talk to him about it when I did, I told him I realized what
happened between Pastor Biodun Fatoyinbo and I was wrong and not just
that I felt abused and manipulated. I also said I thought it was wrong
for Pastor Biodun to go on preaching without taking time to deal with
his personal character flaws. I said I thought he was danger to all the
young women that attended the church. Come to think of it, maybe he
meant if I wanted something monetary or material (as someone had
suggested when I opened up to her) but the truth is, I never wanted his
money (or is it the church member’s money.) All I wanted was to meet
with him and have him accept that he misled me, betrayed his wife and
the church he pastors. I wasn’t the only lady in COZA who had been a
victim of his sexcapades and manipulative patterns but I was the one who
could come back after months of struggle with not just my faith but
also my affair with him. And I wanted to set things right. I wanted to
talk to Pastor Biodun Fatoyinbo maybe for closure and I felt like I
needed an apology because he played the “touch not my anointed” card to
keep me locked in guilt, shame and fear when all along it was a
calculated plan and I dare say, it started when he asked me to join the
workforce.
Not to mention the audacity to talk about teaching me a
level of grace I didn’t understand. I had no intention of understanding
a grace that would permit me to go on doing things that were wrong and
what’s worse having to carry the burden for almost a year.
Different
surprising advises came up in the weeks that followed the rumour making
rounds. I was told to hush because Pastor Biodun Fatoyinbo had been a
cultist in the past and could send people to shut me up. All my
so-called friends in COZA withdrew from me and treated me like I had the
plaque. What was worse was Pastor Flo finally saw my then pastor to
‘talk’ about what had happened with Pastor Biodun and lied that it
happened once and was a mistake. My question then became, ‘do these
people even care how broken I had become?’ ’do they care about the
emotional and spiritual welfare of the people they were pastoring?’ The
sad answer was NO. Most of us old members of COZA kept leaving but they
couldn’t care less. What was important was to keep growing the church
and having more and more cars with stickers that read “More than
enough.” Back then, I always felt horrible when I saw another car drive
past me with the sticker. I was breaking, I was struggling but no one
could help. All they could do was ask me to hide so Pastor Biodun’s
goons don’t hurt me. And then the interesting one was if I had evidence
to prove my claim. Let me just say here that, it isn’t a claim, it’s a
confession to free me from all of the guilt and shame I have had to live
with for no reason at all. (That being said, I have evidence to prove
all I have said here, the latest being a 58 minutes recording of my
meeting with Pastor Flo a few months back)
This is my confession
and I cannot begin to describe how much weight has been lifted off of my
shoulders just pouring the truth out about what went down. So, to all
my ex COZA friends gossiping about me, get your facts right. To those
who said they’d help me deal with the pain but didn’t, I forgive you, I
have learnt how to deal with it and I am doing just fine. To those who
fear for my safety saying Pastor Biodun would send people to shut me up,
I really have gone past fearing for my life. To live is gain and to die
is Christ (or how does Paul say it again?) And to the only person who
ever supported me through it all, thank you, I am learning to be brave.
Please don’t think I am perfect in all of this but in line with living
my authentic life and putting all forms of abuse behind me, this is
where I press the stop button and stop the bleeding. This is where I
break the silence and call the church to stand up for what it has been
commissioned to do. If you will not enter the Kingdom, please don’t stop
others who are trying to enter.
I still remember when I used to
nurse the idea of digging up emails, text messages, hotel billings (as
once I used my card to pay for his room when his master card failed to
work) to prove there was an affair. It was pathetic. Why for the love of
heaven was I trying to dig up evidence? I am satisfied setting the
record straight. I am ready for any shaming or bashing that would follow
because the truth is, because of what I have suffered and come through,
I am really not moved by what people say or think about me anymore. I
am a stronger woman and a damn abuse survivor seeking to connect with
other victims of abuse to show them how to deal with the shame, hurt and
guilt and how to come out stronger. Turning their mess into their
message.
I am Ese Walter and I have gone through all forms of
abuse from family, boyfriends, my ex pastor and some strangers not to
break me, but so I stand and so I qualify to help victims. My scars have
qualified me and when all is said and done, I will still be standing. I
AM WOMAN, I BEND, I DON’T BREAK!
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