Between a Rock and a Hard Place

church and mosque noise

I’m not sure I was up to ten years old when I heard this expression for the first time. All I know is that it was so funny. In my young mind, I thought, but they’re both the same thing nah. The rock and the hard place are both the same thing.

Trust me, I didn’t even understand that the idiom could apply to real life situations until I was a young adult standing in front of a naked lecturer, wondering just how bad the ‘F’ I was sure to get when I ran of there, would look like. Was it going to be big, red and glowing like the devil’s tail or was it going to be dim and flicker like one of those dying bulbs on the sign of a cheap motel? To stay and convince this man I was a very good girl and there was no need for him to pull that stunt, or to run and embrace the F?

But that one now seems like a small thing in the face of what I’m presently going through. Where I live, is nearly at the top of a hill. It’s a really awesome place because most of the times, my house feels like it’s got its own central air-conditioning. Unless the weather gets really hot, I’m in a kind of heaven.

You’d think that this little pleasure I can afford would come without any issues. You would think that world people would allow me to enjoy a little. For where?! My hillside residence is bordered on the north and south by a mosque and a church! If you’re living in any of Nigeria’s metropolitan cities, you understand exactly what I mean.

The noise!

Every day without fail, I am jerked out of slumber by the huge megaphone mounted at the top of the mosque. The microphone’s screeching is transmitted through that instrument, urging me to wake up. What follows next is the unintelligible call to prayers. Mind you, it’s 4 o’clock in the morning and I’m supposed to be having my REM sleep. I’m almost always in the middle of a very interesting dream. But all that is abruptly terminated by the mosque.

The church people nko? Those ones are on my very last nerves. Prayers in the morning, afternoon and evening of every damn day of every damn week. It’s like they have a roster of daily prayers. These are usually conducted at the top of their lungs, accompanied by discordant choruses sung by tone-deaf worship leaders. Daily, they slay their enemies, leaving just enough so they can continue the next day.

Every now and then, I’ve had near orgasmic fantasies where I go and cut the wires to the speakers on both establishments. Sometimes in my head, I teleport there in the dead of night and magically set those speakers ablaze and nobody would know who’s responsible.

I honestly don’t understand why places of worship are allowed in residential areas. Whenever I bring up the topic, there are always a few people who claim that I’m anti-god for saying such a thing. That one na dia wahala. As for me, I’m going to the Nigerian Civil Defence Corps to make a report about their noise pollution. This won’t be the first time but I hope that this time, they’ll really do something about it. Else, I’ll handle matters myself, and it’s not going to be pretty.

Just saying.

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