Last Sunday found me in
Lekki, a tiny peninsula that harbors a collection of beaches and leisure
centers in Southern Nigeria. I was checking out a church a friend of mine had
recommended. The Present House or TPH as it is popularly called is a funky
place of worship located a couple of kilometers from the affluent Victoria
Island, in Lagos.
The first impression I
get as soon I set foot in TPH is the magnificent car collection in the parking yard,
about 15 meters from the church’s periphery. It looks like a meeting point for the island’s
bourgeoisies. One is almost tempted to imagine natural selection determines who
congregates here.
Inside the church
proper, pristinely-suited ushers direct me to areas with available pews. Every
seat bears a white envelope with clear inscriptions on what it’s to be used for
– the day’s offertory. The inscription also suggests the envelopes are not to be
sealed.
The worship style is your
typical Pentecostal style a la Watoto. TPH does two services, I am told.
I had gone for the 10 am service, the second of the day. At the dais, TPH choir
leads the praise session. They take us though rounds of exuberant performances
reminiscent of an ebullient Kanda Bongo Man during his Kwasa
Kwasa days.
The song lyrics vary; from
the mainstream pop, through to fast-paced native compositions laced with lots
of Igbo jargon. They are relayed onto the numerous screens that grace this
air-conditioned edifice.
We sing along. We raise
our hands and smile to strangers. We then slow down to worship before the
female pastor takes to the dais. She makes a funky intro and the whole place
goes dark. The projector screens go bright and neat images start to play. It’s
time for the day’s announcements.
These don’t last long,
and a full-blown sermon soon gets underway. I can’t help but notice the
architectural set-up. One would imagine all Pentecostal churches use the same
architect for their design.
Two hours after I had made
that skeptical entrance into TPH, the service draws to a close. It is one of
those special Sundays. There is pizza and other stuff outside, and they are not
going to eat themselves. I saunter to the serving place and help myself to the
sumptuous serving.
A number of tents are erected
at this end of the Church lawn. There is one for first-time visitors, too; and
many others. A hired DJ animatedly does
his thing; accidentally (or otherwise) slotting Jennifer Lopez’s If you had my love in the mix before
fast forwarding to The Winans’ It’s
Alright (Send Me). The sun is scorching hot, and I have
to make the short journey back to my hotel.
Dan A.