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Pastor Biodun Fatoyinbo
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By Ese Walter: I want to talk about something I have kept bottled up inside for
longer than necessary. I have also decided to use real names, as my defense for
any accusation of slander is justification. I tell the truth, the whole truth
and nothing but. However, feel free to throw your doubt around but know that I
am past the shaming game (where victims of abuse are shot down by blame) I am
no longer a victim but a survivor who is sharing her experience to help others
caught in same web of abuse, guilt and shame. We only get to live once right?
So here, it goes.
I recently came to know this event too was abuse (recently here means about 6
months ago). It has literally been eating me up having to drive by another
billboard advertising preachers, or hearing his name, or even trying to ask
about the validity of the entire salvation story and whether or not there is a
God that truly watches over his people. That being said, I’m just going to say
it as it is. This is a recap of my affair with Pastor Biodun Fatoyinbo of COZA
(Common Wealth Of Zion Assembly) Abuja chapter. This affair I have come to know
as a form of abuse as you would see the different elements of abuse very
present.
I met Pastor Biodun Fatoyinbo many years ago. I was getting bored of the church
I was attending and someone suggested COZA. At the time, I had never heard
about it. My friend said, go there, I’m sure you would enjoy the word. But he
also gave me a strong warning. He said he would advice that I remain a member
only and not join the workforce. I agreed. The first time I attended COZA, I
felt it was my church and decided I was going to plant my ass there. About
eleven months had gone by and I was still attending the services quietly and
faithfully. I really did like the church. One day a worker in the church
approached me that the senior pastor wanted to see me.
Me? I thought. Why would the senior pastor want to see me? Not the second man
but the head nigga in charge? Ok na! I started to think my sin was oozing so
bad the pastor could tell I needed Jesus. (Poor old me.) I saw him at the end
of the second service (they had two services at the time) and he said to me
that he would like me to work with him. I knew I had no intentions of becoming
a pastor so I had to ask in what capacity. He said he’d like for me to join a
department, preferably the Pastoral Care Unit (PCU).
A few weeks later, against my friend’s advice not to join the workforce, I was
a PCU member. All of a sudden, I had some status in church. I was ‘somebody.’
Dress had to be on point, hair, shoes and what not… As workers, we were
literally trying to outshine each other or so it seemed. Anyways, I felt like I
was a privileged member of an elite circle. Hehehe. (It did feel good though,
for the most part.)
About a year after joining the workforce, I was on my way to London for a
Masters degree program that would last two years. As was the rule for workers
travelling, I wrote to say I would be away for 2 years and Pastor Biodun
Fotoyinbo asked that I keep in touch by sending him my number and email when I
had settled in London so he “makes sure I continue in the faith” because
according to him, people loose their faith when they leave home and he wanted
to make sure I didn’t. So, on that note, as soon as I got a phone line in
London, I was sure to call ‘my pastor’ to say I arrived safe, had settled in
and also gave my phone number.
We had spoken a few times especially when COZA started to stream online. I
always watched and would give feedback on quality of production and share a
little bit on the challenges I faced settling in a new land. One evening,
Pastor Biodun Fatoyinbo called me that he was coming to London and needed me to
help him make some hotel bookings as the person who was meant to do it couldn’t
get it done (this was rather strange as I had never been involved in his travel
itinerary). Later that day, he said it had been sorted and my help would not be
required but that he would like me to arrange a cab to pick him up from
Heathrow. I was happy to help my pastor from Nigeria and even saw it as a
privilege. (I would later come to learn that all of this was a calculated
attempt to hatch a plan that I suspect was set in motion when I was asked to
join the workforce.)
The cab guy was there to get him the next day and when he arrived, he called to
ask why I didn’t accompany the cab to pick him up (again, this was strange but
I stopped my mind from overanalyzing the situation as I knew I had no business
with his visit to London). About two hours later, he called me and said he
would like to see me. When I arrived his hotel, I called from the reception but
he asked that I come upstairs. I got to the room and tried to stop my mind from
thinking why I was going to his room. As he opened the door and invited me in,
I had to speak to my heart to stop its palpitations. My better judgment asked
me not to go into the room but the kind of reverence I had for Pasotr Biodun
Fatoyinbo bordered on fear and I steeped into that room.
“Care for a drink?” Asked Pastor Biodun Fatoyinbo.
“No sir,” I said.
“You don’t have to be shy Ese, even if it’s alcohol, feel free and order what
you want.” I wasn’t sure I heard my pastor asking me to order alcohol. I
imagined it was a test and ignored the voice inside that was saying, “I’d have
henny and coke please.” He proceeded to ask how I had been coping in London and
if I was a committed member of any church. He also said he thought there was
something special about me and wanted to know that I had not strayed from my
faith. I really thought he had heard I was doing something I shouldn’t while in
London but tried my best to focus on the conversation instead of my straying
thoughts. He kept telling me to relax and feel comfortable with talking to him.
After a few minutes, he asked that we go to the roof of the hotel as his room
was a pent suite and had a connecting door to the roof.
While there, he sat on a reclining chair and asked me to come sit on his laps.
This was a bit awkward for me and I froze for a moment as I asked why. He said
he had told me to feel free with him and loosen up. I found myself strolling to
sit on his laps. At that moment, I felt like a little girl who was experiencing
something her mind couldn’t fathom. He asked me to kiss him and all I could
think about was seeing him preach on the pulpit back in COZA Abuja, Nigeria,
which was my home church. He again said ‘feel free Ese.’ And asked again, that
I kiss him.
A few hours later, let’s just say, we were rolling under the sheets. It felt as
though my mind had paused. I am not saying I was jazzed, (although it’s
possible I was in some trancelike state and didn’t know it but I just was so
afraid that I couldn’t say or think otherwise.)
That was the beginning of this affair. A sexual affair that went on for a
little over a week, DAILY!
I can hear somebody’s mind thinking, ‘well, you weren’t raped.” And I remember
a pastor I opened up to when I couldn’t take all the mind games asking if I
seduced him. No, I didn’t seduce him and no, I wasn’t raped but I felt trapped
in this affair. Come to think of it, how could I have seduced him when I wanted
nothing from him? I mean, I was too busy minding my business in London trying
to get through with my masters program and I was overly comfortable. And even
if I wanted to seduce anyone, it wouldn’t be a married man, not to mention a
married pastor.
What I couldn’t reconcile the whole time, was how the same person who preached
against the very things we were doing (i.e drinking in pubs, fornicating,
committing adultery) was the same person endorsing and encouraging it.
At some point, I got really confused about what Pastor Biodun Fatoyinbo and I
were doing that I had to ask how he handles it. I will never forget what he
said to me. He said and I quote, “I will teach you a level of grace that you
don’t understand.” My mind couldn’t fathom that somehow grace was enough
covering for not just fornication on my path, adultery on his path and the many
lies that was bound to follow what we were doing that was clearly abominable. I
somehow dealt with the thoughts and fears that followed on my path. He had said
to me that he wanted me to be his girlfriend and he would take me around the
world and spoil me with money and things. Somehow, money had never been one of
the things that motivated me (I am from a home where all my needs have been
adequately met) In all my ‘badness’ through finding myself, I never did things
I did for money but more of rebellion against rules and authority.
Pastor Biodun Fatoyinbo also said to me that he had a dream where I exposed
what was happening to the media. He said it was all over the place and that
people were calling me the girl that caused chaos in COZA. He also said I
should remember the bible said to “touch not God’s anointed.” I immediately
started to rebuke the devil and said I could never do anything like that. I was
almost swearing with my entire family as I thought really I had touched God’s
anointed by submitting my body to be used. Little did I know at the time that
all of these were ways to mess with my mind and even manipulate my thoughts.
Fast-forward a few months later, I was back in Nigeria and my church had become
uncomfortable. Anytime I sat in church and listened to Pastor Biodun preach, I
felt shame. I finally sent him a message saying I wasn’t comfortable anymore. I
was confused and needed to talk about what had happened. He said I should meet
him to talk and I did. It was a really weird meeting for me especially when he
tried to kiss me at our meeting. I finally realized at this point that he
couldn’t help me. I thought God was angry with me and I couldn’t pray so I
decided to withdraw completely from COZA. This was the beginning of my mental
torture. I couldn’t talk to my family because already, I was the only one
attending a different church and somehow my mom never liked the idea. As the
days went by I tried to use drinking and smoking to cover up the deep shame and
guilt I was battling with. But as soon as the high was over, the thoughts came
back and I felt stuck like I couldn’t move forward.
I felt I had to talk to someone and I decided to speak to my then good friend,
Ernest Akale but unfortunately for me, Mr. Ernest did not have the capacity to
hold what I said to him. He broke down completely the days that followed and I
found myself having to pause how I was feeling and what I was struggling with
to help my friend be strong. After a while, he withdrew from not just me but
his then fiancé and friends. I had to then tell the fiancé what had caused it
(she suspected we were having an affair so I had to clear the air) To my
surprise she was a lot stronger than her man and told me to suck it up (I’m
paraphrasing). She said if she were me, she wouldn’t leave the church but stay
to torment Pastor Biodun and collect money from him. Ok! That sounded extreme
for me, as my intention was not to blackmail but to heal my broken self. Anyways,
I finally found the courage to speak to my then unit head who said he was going
to talk to Pastor Biodun but didn’t have the liver to do so. Before long, the
story was spreading and naturally getting twisted.
I went to a new church and it seemed like the COZA bug had chased me there. The
pastor would always refer to COZA as some example and each time that was done,
it seemed like a spear was thrust through my chest. One day, I broke down in
the service and started crying uncontrollably, as I couldn’t take another
mention of COZA and the pictures it painted in my head.
Very long, boring story cut short, for the last 5 months I gave the whole
church thing a big space and break. I wasn’t sure I believed in God. I wasn’t
sure I understood what it meant when people said ‘Jesus saves” and I definitely
wasn’t sure how to deal with the mental torture that was affecting not just me
but my relationships with family and friends. I was very unstable, fearful and
worst of all guilty. I got a chance to talk to Pastor Folarin of COZA Lagos
Chapter, popularly called Pastor flo about everything. I made an effort to
reach out to him because I realized the right thing to do was talk to an elder
in the church and seek some sort of remedy to a wrong I believed had been done
me. Instead, Pastor Flo said, Pastor Biodun had confessed to him and they had
‘talked’ about it and somehow that was supposed to be Ok. He asked what it was
I wanted coming to talk to him about it when I did, I told him I realized what
happened between Pastor Biodun Fatoyinbo and I was wrong and not just that I
felt abused and manipulated.
I also said I thought it was wrong for Pastor Biodun to
go on preaching without taking time to deal with his personal character flaws.
I said I thought he was danger to all the young women that attended the church.
Come to think of it, maybe he meant if I wanted something monetary or material
(as someone had suggested when I opened up to her) but the truth is, I never
wanted his money (or is it the church member’s money.) All I wanted was to meet
with him and have him accept that he misled me, betrayed his wife and the
church he pastors. I wasn’t the only lady in COZA who had been a victim of his
sexcapades and manipulative patterns but I was the one who could come back
after months of struggle with not just my faith but also my affair with him.
And I wanted to set things right. I wanted to talk to Pastor Biodun Fatoyinbo
maybe for closure and I felt like I needed an apology because he played the
“touch not my anointed” card to keep me locked in guilt, shame and fear when
all along it was a calculated plan and I dare say, it started when he asked me
to join the workforce.
Not to mention the audacity to talk about teaching me a level of grace I didn’t
understand. I had no intention of understanding a grace that would permit me to
go on doing things that were wrong and what’s worse having to carry the burden
for almost a year.
Different surprising advises came up in the weeks that followed the rumour
making rounds. I was told to hush because Pastor Biodun Fatoyinbo had been a
cultist in the past and could send people to shut me up. All my so-called
friends in COZA withdrew from me and treated me like I had the plague. What was
worse was Pastor Flo finally saw my then pastor to ‘talk’ about what had
happened with Pastor Biodun and lied that it happened once and was a mistake. My
question then became, ‘do these people even care how broken I had become?’ ’do
they care about the emotional and spiritual welfare of the people they were
pastoring?’ The sad answer was NO. Most of us old members of COZA kept leaving
but they couldn’t care less. What was important was to keep growing the church
and having more and more cars with stickers that read “More than enough.” Back
then, I always felt horrible when I saw another car drive past me with the
sticker. I was breaking, I was struggling but no one could help. All they could
do was ask me to hide so Pastor Biodun’s goons don’t hurt me. And then the
interesting one was if I had evidence to prove my claim. Let me just say here
that, it isn’t a claim, it’s a confession to free me from all of the guilt and
shame I have had to live with for no reason at all. (That being said, I have
evidence to prove all I have said here, the latest being a 58 minutes recording
of my meeting with Pastor Flo a few months back)
This is my confession and I cannot begin to describe how much weight has been
lifted off of my shoulders just pouring the truth out about what went down. So,
to all my ex COZA friends gossiping about me, get your facts right. To those
who said they’d help me deal with the pain but didn’t, I forgive you, I have
learnt how to deal with it and I am doing just fine. To those who fear for my
safety saying Pastor Biodun would send people to shut me up, I really have gone
past fearing for my life. To live is gain and to die is Christ (or how does
Paul say it again?) And to the only person who ever supported me through it
all, thank you, I am learning to be brave. Please don’t think I am perfect in
all of this but in line with living my authentic life and putting all forms of
abuse behind me, this is where I press the stop button and stop the bleeding.
This is where I break the silence and call the church to stand up for what it
has been commissioned to do. If you will not enter the Kingdom, please don’t
stop others who are trying to enter.
I still remember when I used to nurse the idea of digging up emails, text
messages, hotel billings (as once I used my card to pay for his room when his
master card failed to work) to prove there was an affair. It was pathetic. Why
for the love of heaven was I trying to dig up evidence? I am satisfied setting
the record straight. I am ready for any shaming or bashing that would follow
because the truth is, because of what I have suffered and come through, I am
really not moved by what people say or think about me anymore. I am a stronger
woman and a damn abuse survivor seeking to connect with other victims of abuse
to show them how to deal with the shame, hurt and guilt and how to come out
stronger. Turning their mess into their message.
I am Ese Walter and I have gone through all forms of abuse from family,
boyfriends, my ex pastor and some strangers not to break me, but so I stand and
so I qualify to help victims. My scars have qualified me and when all is said
and done, I will still be standing.
I AM WOMAN, I BEND, I DON’T BREAK!
Called
From OLUFAMOURS.COM
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