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It was one of those special days at St. Mary’s Catholic Parish, Trans-Ekulu, Enugu, for many of the local people would at last be admitted into the fold of believers, following their proclamation that they had rejected Satan and his works. Luke Adike, the reverend father who would perform this ritual, had prayed fervently the night before, asking to be used as an instrument for putting the fear of God into the members of his parish. He was particularly worried that many of the parishioners were still trying to put the new Christian wine into the old Igbo cultural calabashes, and wondered how such a practice could enhance their spiritual growth. He knew that the Vatican had, in authorizing the African Rite, allowed the use of local African forms of signification and expression in making God known to the people. The Vatican had reasoned that some ‘inculturation’ – whereby indigenous cultural forms would have an upper hand than the foreign in proclamation of the Good News – would not only be effective but also right and just in making Christianity a global religion. But Father Adike didn’t quite like this idea of localizing Christ, for he felt it would confuse people the more. Anyway, it was within his power as a parish priest to determine how the parishioners interpreted this Africanization of Christianity. He didn’t have to worry much, though, for many of the parishioners were ignorant of this new orientation, and the few educated ones did not seem to bother.

The candidates for baptism lined up in front of the altar, their candles burning confidently just as their hearts glowed with the light of the miracle that would soon happen in their lives. Father Adike was going from one candidate to the other, interviewing them to make sure they had the ‘right’ names ready for their baptism. Once he performed the speech act on behalf of Jesus Christ, calling the candidate by the approved name, that was it: the person was saved! And only European names – or preferably saint names – in his thinking, were good enough as the identities of those coming into the circle where God’s love could reach and bless them. Father Adike was, therefore, annoyed to hear one of the candidates, a 14-year-old boy, respond that the baptismal name he would like to bear was “Chibuikem,” a local name that means “God is my strength”. What would be the evidence that the bearer of such a name was a Christian, the priest wondered. How could a local Igbo name be a ‘Christian’ name? Moreover, was there a “Saint Chibuikem” anywhere in Heaven to be praying for this boy, or that would make sure that the boy’s prayers reached God? Suppressing his growing rage, he simply told the fellow to look for another name and moved to the next candidate.

Other candidates had ‘acceptable’ names such as Mac-Joe, MacDonald, Eliseus, Eubandus, Epaphrastus, Faustinus, Apollonia, Apolonus, Julius, Luciana, Agatha, Thomas, etc, and so Father did not have problems with them. When, in making the final round, he came to Chibuikem and asked him, “What have you now chosen as your baptismal name?” the boy still answered, “Chibuikem”, Father lost his cool and gave the boy what Nigerians usually refer to as a ‘dirty’ slap. It was really a dirty slap; first, because no one in the church expected the priest to slap a boy he was bringing to God Almighty. Second, it was the type that could cause the victim to ‘see’ stars in an instant. Dirty slaps are humiliating. In that very instant that Chibuikem experienced this priestly violence in the presence of other children and other people who had come to witness the baptism, he felt terribly ashamed of himself and wished he hadn’t come to reject Satan and his works. He wished the whole church could disappear and that he were somewhere else doing those things that made a boy happy. Did being a baptized Catholic mean being a victim of this kind of violence? Did it mean not being free to answer a name one could understand, a name in one’s local language?

The priest had given him a special, violent baptism. The flames that flashed across his eyes when the priest slapped him were from the fire of that baptism. “He will baptize you with fire and the Holy Spirit!” Chibuikem simply opened his mouth and the words tumbled out, “Michael, Father.” When the moment came for making Chibuikem a new person, the priest pronounced him “Michael.” But he would always be a different Michael baptized first with a dirty slap.

As the Roman Catholic Pontiff today tries to repair the damage done to the image of the church by some Catholic priests, one hopes that cases like that of the violence against Chibuikem, a candidate for baptism at St. Mary’s Parish, Trans-Ekulu, Enugu, would eventually come to his attention.