...let youself go!

Height of Devotion

I was on holy ground but I did not quite realise it. “You must take off your shoes here before we go on,” my guide said as I clambered up to meet her from the foot of Sobi Hill, in Ilorin, the Kwara State capital. “People come all the way up here to pray and they must be barefooted.” Behind me an Imam seated on a bench and wearing a spotless white overall and cap to match admonished his group under an almond tree. “Now stretch forth your hands and ask God for anything you desire,” I heard him say before I pushed forward and his voice trailed off.

Mosun is not a guide in the real sense. A Christian of the Cherubim and Seraphim church, she was returning from the hill top after a prayer session and headed home when a man I had asked for directions at a filling station beside the hill approached her, asking if she wouldn’t mind showing me the way up. Without hesitation she obliged. “Ok, let’s go,” she said wiping her dark, slim face with a handkerchief. I didn’t appreciate the extent of this favour until we reached the summit, a half-hour later.My boots off and placed out of the way by a shaded section of the rock, we began the gradual climb up the hill. On the way up, we came across men and women returning from their own prayer sessions. The noon sun had heated up the rock to the extent that every step forward landed on a hot face of the outcrop. It was like that all the way up and all I could do was tiptoe through it. We occasionally reached shaded areas, where I took short rests.“We’ll stop two more time along the way so you can catch your breath before we get to the highest point,” Mosun said at our first stop after ten minutes of walking. Quite ingeniously, the users of this place have put the first time visitor into consideration: there is a line of white paint that runs the entire way up to the top. Follow it and you can’t miss your way.  Some people have been wise too to tap into the fertile soil on the rock. At some point during the climb, I noticed cassava and corn plantations on either side of the pathway; the latter was tended by a man in long lace Buba and who I guess should be no less than fifty.

We had not gone too far up when Mosun made the unique nature of this prayer ground clear to me: both Christians and Muslims come here to talk to the Creator. A vast portion of the surface area - the steeper sides are clearly off limits - is open to all and sundry who desire the sort of solitude that a place of this nature offers, not to mention the opportunity to look up to heaven unobstructed by church or mosque roofing. There is space enough for thousands of people to congregate and conduct their fellowships; there are no loud hailers here, and so there is no issue of one congregation disturbing the other.Happily, there have been no recorded cases of rancour between the faiths or even a tinge of rivalry among the various sects who have chosen this place as their spiritual refuge. Even if that were to happen, there is an unseen military presence. For one, the Sobi Barracks is just a stone’s throw away across the road at the foot of the hill, hidden from view by thick vegetation to the south. “The police too are not far away,” Mosun told me, “If there is any crisis, they would be alerted and they would be here in no time.”

And today being Sunday, the Christians -- expectedly -- outnumber the Muslims. The worshippers present are positioned in clusters ranging from threesomes to dozens, some listening to a preacher and others praying fervently in whispers. “People come here to observe their prayer and fasting days,” Mosun said on our way. “It could be seven days, twenty-one days or even forty days.”Read more »