CHAPTER 26″ – THIS FAMILY CALLED MINE: COLOUR US UP

© Opeyemi Akintunde
As Inspired by the LIVING WORD

“Adesewa has been having visions” I said to Setemi

Adesewa’s face was pale, her eyes wide with a kind of determination that felt too mature for her age.

“I want to show you something,” she mouthed to her Mum, so the others in the living room would not hear.

Pamilerin stood up quickly and walked towards Sewa….She frowned slightly. “What is it, Sewa?”

“It’s about the dreams I have always had. And Fola… I… I think there’s something wrong with Grandpa’s paintings. I’ve been seeing strange pictures in my dreams for years, and whenever I woke up, I drew them. I didn’t know why… but now I think they mean something.”

My heart skipped.

“You drew them?” I asked

Adesewa nodded. “They are in my room. Can I show you?”

We followed slowly, unsure but curious.

Adesewa led us to her small room. Her bed was neatly made, her walls adorned with bright stickers, but at the corner of the room was a large drawing pad, several sketchbooks, and loose sheets.

She began to lay them out one by one.

The first painting showed a man with red hands standing before a canvas. His face looked twisted in pain, and around him were shadows crying.

“That’s Grandpa,” Adesewa whispered. “I think he was crying inside, but he kept painting.”

The next drawing showed little girls with their hands raised, a shadow figure behind them collecting something from them—invisible to the eye, but Adesewa had drawn it in a deep, dark red.

Setemi gasped. Pamilerin drew closer.

“This one…” Adesewa continued. “I saw this a lot. There’s a man with a pot… and every time he stirs, a different person disappears.”

Another sketch showed a crying woman holding a baby boy while a man stood over her with his back turned. The man had an aura of darkness around him.

“That looks like Bolade,” I said quietly. “And… Dad.”

We continued turning the sketches. Each one felt like a puzzle piece.

Setemi, though quiet, was following. Her eyes were wide, her lips pressed tightly together. The next painting Adesewa showed hit too close.

It was a house with girls peeking through a curtain, while a man painted furiously in another room. Above the house, in the sky, was a man’s face watching.

“God was watching,” Adesewa said.

I held back tears. I understood what was happening.

God had chosen a child. A pure vessel to reveal what their spirits had been too clouded to see.

“These dreams… they were not ordinary dreams,” I said slowly. “God has been speaking through you, Adesewa. You have your grandfather’s gift, but it is being used for light.”

Pamilerin nodded, speechless.

We laid the drawings in a row.

I stepped back. “This is not everything… but this is a part of the truth. Our father did something… terrible. And the blood is crying out. We need to seek help… spiritual help.”

For the first time since Fola’s death, Setemi stood up and came forward.

She placed a trembling hand on her daughter’s shoulder.

“Thank you,” she whispered.

Then she turned to us, her sisters.

“Let’s find out the rest. Let’s not stop till we know what our father did, and how we can break free from it.”

I felt fire rise in my bones.

I knew where to start.

It was time to call Aunty Favour.

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