I don’t remember how we became friends on Facebook but I remember her first post that I commented on. It was about God. I know it was about God because that was the only thing she wrote about. When she doesn’t write her own post about God, she’ll share someone’s post about God. On Sundays, she’ll share a live church service on her wall. When I don’t go to church, I will write something like, “Thanks a lot for sharing. Today I’m worshiping with you because I was unable to go to church.”

She didn’t want to hear that I was unable to go to church. She’ll write a long exhortation exhorting me to make the worship of God my priority in life. “He’s the one who gives life and gives wealth. Without his intervention, you can work all your life and still make no money. Just a day to worship him and you’re making excuses? Please don’t cheat on God because he loves you so  much.”

So the foundation of our friendship was God. I love God and she also loved God. Whatever is built on God would be established. Mountains will fall. Rivers will run dry. Storms will blow but whatever that was built on God shall stand and not waiver. That was how I saw our friendship. That was how she saw our friendship too. One evening she sent me a message. It was a Sunday evening. She said, “Apostle Simon (She called me ‘apostle’. I told her I was no apostle. She said she knows only one Simon and that Simon was an apostle of Christ so whether I like it or not, I’m an apostle.) I hope you went to church today. I didn’t see your comment under the live service. I hope all is well.”

I responded all was not wall because indeed all was not well. I had been sick all week. I had the symptoms of malaria. I didn’t go to work and didn’t go outside. I told her the story of my health and how I’m conquering it. I told her it was the reason I was unable to go to church. She said, “The devil is a liar. He can’t uproot what God has planted. We need to pray.” That day she asked for my number. We had been talking for weeks but didn’t have each other’s numbers. When I sent her the number, she called immediately; “Apostle Simon, no you can’t be sick. Let the weak say I’m strong. So even when you feel unwell in your physical body, God has perfected your spirit in a way that can withstand evil, diseases, and earthly afflictions. Dear, let’s pray.”

She spent minutes praying for me on the other side of the phone. I spent minutes responding “Amen” to all the things she said in her prayers. After the prayers, she asked me, “How are you feeling?” I said, “Warm and weak.” She said, “God will do. Just believe.”

She called in the morning to check up on me. She called in the afternoon to ask if I was eating well. She called in the evening to pray and wish me Godspeed as I was starting my journey into a peaceful sleep. She called until one day I told her, “Erica, everything is well. Now I can walk and not feel dizzy. I can eat and not feel like throwing up. I can even run.” 

I go to church and call myself a Christian but I’m not the all-out Christian who will pray out loud and rub his faith in the faces of those he’s friends with on social media. Erica was different. Everything about her was about God. She won’t talk to you without mentioning God’s name. She won’t finish a conversation without praying. God was at the center of everything to the point that it became overbearing for me. But I didn’t tell her that. Whenever she called and we were talking, I flowed with her the way she wanted me to.

At some point our conversation became carnal. It was expected. The flesh and soul cannot do without carnality. We slowly got to a point where the God line was blurred so the flesh line would be deepened. I developed an interest in her and that interest was communicated to her in every way that I can. She got the clue. She asked me, “Apostle, (My name had become ‘Apostle’ without the Simon) be straightforward with me. What are you implying?” I told her, “I don’t know if it’s right but I’ve developed a special interest in you. Your melodies hit a special chord in my soul and bring me to a place where I can no longer stand on my feet until you become mine.” She laughed on the phone. She said, “I like your spirit. It looks like I feel the same way but it’s better we meet first.”

She told me she lived in Kumasi. I told her I was in Accra. She said, “There’s no place too far when the heart is involved. I can come around or you can come around. I asked, “So who comes first?” She answered, “Don’t worry. I will come first.”

We made plans. We fixed the date for her to travel to Accra. She told me things haven’t been well with her since the Covid. She needed me to send her money before she could afford to come. I asked her, “So how much?” She answered, “You’re the man so you should know.” I sent her GH₵350. She was supposed to come on Saturday. On Friday night she called. She didn’t sound like the Erica I knew. I asked her, “What is wrong?” She said, “The devil is a liar. My mom has suddenly taken sick. I was called this evening that she had been admitted. I need to go and see her tomorrow.” 

I felt very bad for her. I told her to do everything within her power to ensure that her mother was well. She said, “Please pray with me. Immediately she get’s well, I will be on my way to your place.” I said, “You don’t have to worry about me. Your mom’s health first.” The next day she called me. It was about drugs she didn’t have money to buy. I sent her GH₵500. Two days later she called me. It was about bills she needed help with. She said, “Not anything big. Just GH₵200 will do. Please don’t send anything more than that.” I sent her the GH₵200. Her mother was discharged. 

Weeks later, we revisited our plans. She said she could come on Saturday. I said I would wait for her. I sent her GH₵300. Early Saturday morning, I called her phone to ask if she had started the journey. Her phone was off. I called minutes later. Her phone was still off. Thirty minutes later, I called. It was still off. I started getting worried. “What could be happening to this girl?” I called all day on Saturday but her phone was off. I called her on Sunday. I called her on Monday. I called her on Tuesday. On Wednesday when the call didn’t go through, I sent her a message on Facebook. On Friday evening, I had a call from a number that wasn’t saved on my phone. It was Erica.

I screamed, “Erica, what happened to you?” She said, “Hmmm, I don’t even know where to start from. I got to Circle on Saturday Morning, bought a ticket, and got on the bus. I thought I should call and tell you I’m on a bus. I went through my bag and my phone was gone. Eish! I poured everything out just in case the phone might be hiding behind the makeup case or a towel. I didn’t see my phone. I didn’t know how to reach you and your number too wasn’t in my memory. I had no option but to go back home.” I felt very sorry for her. I asked how we could make things right. She said, “I don’t know. I need to get a new phone first. This one belongs to a guy next door. He was kind. He made me log back into my Facebook so I could retrieve your number and call you.”

The bottom line was that she needed a new phone. I went to work and decided to get a new phone for her. A colleague asked what I needed a new phone for and I narrated the whole story to him. “It’s my fault her phone got missing. I have to replace it for her.” My colleague said, “Ain’t you trusting this girl too much? You’ve never seen her before. Twice you’ve made attempt to bring her to Accra and twice something prevented her from coming. That should tap your bell of suspicion. Yeah, she could be genuine and all that but you should test how genuine she is.”

So my colleague advised me on what next to do.

When she called I told her, “I’ve bought you a new phone. I would like to come to Kumasi and give it to you.” She asked, “How would you find me? When you get here and call my neighbor’s phone and he tells you that he’s out of the house what would you do?” I was quiet for a while. I asked her, “So what do you suggest?” She said, “Find a bus driver coming to Kumasi and give the phone to him. When he gets here and he calls my neighbors phone and he’s out, it wouldn’t be a problem. I can always go to the station and get the phone. The driver will leave it at the station for me.” I agreed. 

My colleague said, “Don’t worry. I’ll be the driver. Just call her and give her my phone number and add any fake car number to it. I will call her hours later and see what she would say.” I did just that. She was so grateful when I told her the arrangement. She said, “It’s God who brought you my way just when I needed help. I’m so grateful for everything you’ve done so far. May God bless you.”

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So my friend called the number late in the evening. It was a guy who picked. He told him about his mission and the guy gave the phone to Erica right away. My friend said, “Looking at how the guy handed over the phone to her right away, it looked like they are in the same room. They could be a couple.” Anyway, when my friend-turned-driver told her that he had reached Kumasi, Erica told him, “Driver, I’m very sorry this has to happen. I traveled to Accra early this morning. My brother didn’t tell me that he was sending me a phone until I got here. So please do me this favor. When you’re coming back to Accra, please come with the phone and I will come for it.”

I was dumbfounded. I screamed, “So all this Christianity vibe she was giving me was fake?” My colleague said, “I told you. It’s social media. People will do everything to get what they want.” 

The next day, I was with my colleague when he called Erica and told her that he was back in Accra. We were at the station waiting for her. She called. My colleague told her to stand in the middle of the station where he could see her. She asked about the color of her dress. She said, “I’m the girl in the black skirt and a pink top, do you see me?” We looked straight and she was there. She came with the guy. My colleague asked me, “What do we do now?” I said, “I don’t know but let’s face them. I want to see the embarrassment on her face when she sees me.”

We walked right to the center there to meet her. Immediately she saw me she looked on the floor. I said, ”Erica, so it’s all fake? Is that the life for you?” She told the guy, “Kobe, let’s go.” I said, “Nooo, not too fast. You’re not going anywhere until you pay what you took from me. The guy felt he could intimidate us because he was taller. I told him, “Bro, you want us to create a scene? We only have to scream, “Thief” and you’ll be surrounded. You girl owes me GH₵1,350. If you don’t pay, we are not leaving here. All this while her face was down. I just couldn’t believe a girl of her caliber could do that. 

The guy asked her, “What are you saying?” She said, “I have some money here. Do you have something you can add to it?” The guy responded, “Unless we go to the ATM.” My colleague screamed, “We are not leaving here. We accept MoMo.” They started making some calls. Erica gave me GH₵250. Her boy added GH₵320. They made some calls and minutes later, the rest dropped on my colleague’s phone. I told her, “Go and sin no more. I’m going to report your account.”

She blocked me with the speed of light but that didn’t bother me. I got my money and also kept my phone. Thieves on social media have changed their weapons. The bible says, “No weapons fashion against us shall prosper” but what if that weapon is fashioned with the bible? Be vigilant brothers. I don’t believe I’m the only victim. And I don’t believe I will be the last victim. Her weapon fashioned against you might prosper if you believe “Everyone who calls out to me, ‘Lord! Lord!’ will enter the Kingdom.”

–Apostle Simon  

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