It is a rare Sunday when the guest preacher doesn’t speak about a seventh heaven. He speaks tangible stuff like life and truth with a peculiar humour that is inescapable and we laugh. But dehydration quickly causes dry saliva to settle like white candle wax at the sides of his mouth because an evangelist too, must drink. I am the girl sent forth to bring water unto the Lord’s own so that I may quench his thirst. It is a slow jaunt. I am careful not to walk too quickly so that the five hundred Naira sandals I bought at…