Once the service ended and a few congregants had begun trickling out of the auditorium, the atmosphere was buzzing once again.

Everyone was talking about the sudden appearance of Nana Akua, and it was not exactly pleasant memories that they had about her.

Nana Akua had once been a member of the church, yet her presence often brought discord rather than harmony. With a sharp tongue, a love for controversies, and the uncanny ability to say the wrong thing to the wrong person with no remorse, many members had been hurt by her words and actions, with some even leaving because of her.

In the choristers’ corner, Auntie Sonia, the sweet diminutive Nigerian lady that had been part of the choir since its inception, was telling some of the newer choristers just how much of a troublemaker she had been.

“Hmmm, she was very controversial, that girl. Always saying something to provoke somebody,” she remarked, shaking her head, arms crossed. “Even if you dey your dey, this girl will find something to come and worry you about.”

One of the younger men, Nathan, had his arms crossed, with a look of concern on his face. “It was that bad, eh?”

“Hmm, Nathan. you know what she used to call me? She used to call me Anago.”

A few gasped. “Ahh! That’s not nice!” one of the ladies, Paula, commented.

“It’s not ooo. At all. I told her – gently oh, respectfully – that I didn’t like it. That it felt like mockery. I said, ‘My name is Sonia, or even Auntie Sonia if you like. Please don’t call me that.’ But the girl just laughed and said, ‘Ah ah, but it’s just Anago, na. Is that not what you people are?'”

While the choristers gaped and shook their heads in disgust, in another corner, the other two pastors, Kwame Mensa Kuma and Richard Ramseyer, were also remembering the trouble Nana Akua had brought them, especially during Bible study and sermons.

“For me, it was always the way she’d say, “But is that really what Jesus meant?” with that tone… you know the one,” Pastor Mensa Kuma commented, the disapproval apparent on his face.

“Hmm, yes oo. Then she’d quote something completely out of context—like the Book of Enoch—and ask, “So are we just going to ignore this?” It was sad, honestly,” Pastor Ramseyer agreed. “I mean, this journey of faith will bring up questions, and we obviously welcome that. It’s necessary. But with her, it’s like she wasn’t seeking truth. She just wanted friction and chaos.”

“Chale. And no sense of decorum. Always shouting unnecessary things while we’re preaching. And when I told her she needed to stop, she took offence, went to social media and wrote that ‘patriarchy is choking the pulpit.'”

Maame Ama heard all these conversations as she stepped briskly outside the auditorium, her usual radiant smile absent while she scanned the compound. Spotting a few of the protocol members near the entrance, she approached them. “Did any of you see where the young lady who walked in very late went to?”

The protocol team, dressed smartly in their deep blue blazers, exchanged uncertain glances before one of them, Kwaku, shook his head. “No please, Pastor Maame, she left in a hurry. Didn’t say a word to anyone.”

The other member, Phyllis, nodded. “She looked nervous when she walked out. Like she wasn’t sure she should even be here.”

Maame Ama sighed. No surprises there. With the kind of comments flying around, it was crystal clear how much Nana Akua’s presence stirred tension and evoked bad memories.

Even for her, seeing Nana Akua reminded her of what had happened with her own child.

One of the very few times the ever-bubbly head pastor lost her cool.

A few years ago, when her son Manfred was just a toddler and she was not yet the head pastor of Greener Pastures, Nana Akua had mocked him for being a lisper. Maame Ama could still remember the fire that had risen in her chest the moment it happened: her sweet little boy in tears, sauntering over to hug her while Nana Akua stepped out from the room, mimicking his speech in the meanest way possible and laughing while others stood by, uncomfortable with her actions.

What followed was something people in Greener Pastures rarely saw.

A sharp and angry rebuke…

“You don’t play with a child’s speech. You don’t play with someone’s dignity. You don’t play cruel games and just laugh about it. You’re far too old for that kind of childish wickedness, do you hear me? Now let me tell you something, young lady, You can test me in any way you like, but… don’t you ever touch my child with your spite! I don’t care what issues you’re battling with inside that restless heart of yours. If I hear one more word from your mouth aimed at him to tear him down and make him cry, I will deal with you in ways this church building won’t recover from! Use your mouth for praise and prayer, not poison. You’re too grown to be proud of tearing toddlers down.”

It had been one brutal takedown of the church bully, with many who were present silently loving the fact that the church sweetheart had been the one to do it.

Nana Akua’s appearances at church began to wane somewhat after that, with her attitude a lot more hostile than before whenever she did show up. Eventually, she stopped showing up entirely, with nobody knowing her whereabouts.

Later, a few church members reported that they had heard from her, where she claimed she would never come back, and she was extremely happy where she was. Attempts at discovering her location were unsuccessful, as she had no intention of letting them know where she was.

And now… after three years, she had returned to the church.

But not for long.

Maame Ama turned slightly, looking towards the now-quiet street outside the church compound. She sighed.

There was no doubt about it: something had brought Nana Akua back.

But what was it? Because whatever it was… it was serious enough to make her return to a place she had sworn off, even if it was for a few minutes.

Maame Ama sighed again, clasping her hands in front of her. Lord, what is this girl going through? It’s so obvious there’s something wrong with her…

“Auntie Maame Amaaa!”

A small, excited voice pierced through her contemplation.

She barely had time to react before a familiar tiny figure barreled into her legs. Laughing, she looked down to see her four-year-old niece, Mansa, clinging to her in excitement.

“Heyyyyy, my sweet princess!” she exclaimed, bending down to scoop the little girl into her arms. She lifted her effortlessly, peppering her chubby cheeks with playful kisses while Mansa giggled.

Behind her, Dzigbordi, her sister-in-law and Mansa’s mother, approached with an amused smile.

Maame Ama beamed at her before turning back to Mansa, holding her close. “How are you doing, my love?”

“I’m fine, Auntie!” Mansa responded in her tiny voice, playing with the fabric of Maame Ama’s dress.

“Wonderful! Has your mummy been nice to you this week?”

Mansa, still playing with her dress, stole a quick glance back at her mother before nodding, stifling a little giggle.

“Ei! Why are you looking at her first before answering?” Maame Ama asked, raising an eyebrow. “Are you afraid of her?”

Mansa let out the giggle, but said nothing.

Maame Ama turned her head slightly, eyeing Dzigbordi in mock suspicion. “See, if this woman does anything to you, report her to me immediately, okay? I will deal with her myself.”

Mansa and Dzigbordi burst into laughter, Dzigbordi shaking her head in playful protest.

“Ebei, Maame Ama!” Dzigbordi laughed. “It’s me ooo. Her mother. Not some nanny bi.”

Maame Ama grinned, still holding Mansa close and smoothing down the edges of the little girl’s dress.

As the gorgeous, light-skinned and bespectacled wife of Maame Ama’s brother, Nana Yaw, Dzigbordi was one of the head pastor’s favourite people. From teasing her to hanging out with her at every turn, everyone knew the bond between Maame Ama and her sister-in-law was as tight as could be.

A few moments of silence passed by before Dzigbordi leaned closer.

“So… the girl that came in and left… everyone says that’s the troublesome Nana Akua girl. Was that her?”

Maame Ama sighed and nodded. “Yes. That was her. Nana Akua Quarcoompome.”

Dzigbordi exhaled, folding her arms. “Hmm. Everyone is talking about her, and the things I’ve heard, eh? She must have been a real terror. The way Auntie Sonia was just going on about how that girl used to call her all sorts of names just because she’s Nigerian…”

Maame Ama winced slightly and nodded. “I remember. Very hurtful words, especially that ‘anago’ term. Yet she didn’t care.”

“Hmmmm. And Pastors Mensa Kuma and Richard too were saying a lot,” Dzigbordi continued, lowering her voice. “I heard them reminiscing about how she used to hijack Bible study with the most unnecessary questions. They even mentioned what she did to Manfred…”

Maame Ama sighed deeply, nodding as the memory sprung to mind. “Hmm. She really brought out the lioness in me that morning, I won’t lie. I was so angry. And everyone was surprised.”

Dzigbordi shrugged. “Well, you can’t bully a little boy and not expect his mother to be silent about it.”

“Yeah, that’s true. You know I don’t play around when it comes to my family. Hmmm, honestly… Nana Akua was…” She paused, searching for the right words. “She was difficult. Very difficult.”

“That’s putting it lightly, if what everyone is saying is anything to go by,” Dzigbordi murmured.

Maame Ama looked away for a moment, watching as a few congregants left the compound, waving to them. She then turned to Dzigbordi. “But Dzigbor, did you see her well when she came in?”

Dzigbordi frowned slightly. “Uh, not really. Why?”

“She wasn’t just looking guilty, Dzigbordi. She looked… burdened.” Maame Ama exhaled. “Something is wrong. And I need to find out what is. There’s a reason she came back, and we need to reach out and help her.”

Dzigbordi hesitated a bit. “Hmmm. That won’t be easy oo, looking at the reaction to her. A lot of people don’t exactly seem excited about her return, so…”

“I know, Dzigbor, I know.” Maame Ama turned to face her fully now. “But that’s not how we do things in the Kingdom, is it? We don’t just cast people away because of their past. Especially when they return home like they should. If we do, then we’ve learned nothing about the prodigal son parable.” Her voice softened, but her conviction was firm. “If Jesus left the ninety-nine to go after the one, then so must we. There’s a reason why she came back, let’s find out why and help her.”

Dzigbordi held her gaze for a moment before nodding slowly. “You’re right. Let’s do it, then. I’m ready to join you to find her if you need any help.”

“Thanks, sis.” Maame Ama smiled slightly, then turned back to Mansa, who had been quietly listening to their conversation with a curious expression.

She poked Mansa’s tiny nose playfully. “Now, where were we? Ah yes! Reporting your mummy to me, so I can deal with her properly.”

Mansa and her mother let out peals of laughter, and just like that, the heaviness of the moment lifted, if only for a little while.

Well, Pastor Maame Ama has a point. This girl might’ve caused trouble, but if she needs rescuing, she should be rescued…