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To every thing there is a season, and a time to every purpose under the heaven…. a time of war, and a time of peace.
~ Holy Bible, Ecclesiastes 3 : 1 8

Two weeks earlier, we were at his office.

As one of the managers of the utility company serving our estate, he is usually the first person to call when there is a prolonged “power failure” (that is, a power outage).

That day, a group of us, myself included, was tasked with delivering a complaint letter to his office. Our objective; was to call their attention to our plight so they can fix it without further delay. That was their duty. Because we are paying for their services.

We exchanged pleasantries and banter. And we gave him our letter.

What followed caught me off guard.

He squeezed the letter I had painstakingly drafted, right before our eyes.

What could have been his grievance?

Background

This is Nigeria.

The government-mandated electric utility company exhibits extreme monopolistic inefficiencies. Every so often, electricity consumers not only pay third parties to secure these facilities, they also contribute millions of naira to repair them whenever there is a power failure.

But why?

Because the utility company's response time is very slow, those with small portable generators (referred to as "I big past my neighbor") find that the money spent on fuel for their generators quickly exceeds the amount they would have spent repairing public utilities. The utility company had the responsibility of maintaining and operating these utilities. They either don't do this, or they do it many months later, or not at all.

Despite their poor service, they are at consumers’ doorsteps to collect their outrageous bills at the end of every billing cycle.

Across the country, this story is commonplace. We are paying for the operational costs of public utilities. Otherwise, we'll go back to the dark ages of no public power.

This is Nigeria in 2025.

Back to my story

So, why did he discard our letter of complaint into the dustbin in such an uncouth manner? And that right before our eyes?

In that letter, we stated that my estate residents were repairing the transformer and supplying the accessories.

Rather than appreciating our efforts, he became enraged over the fact that we did not label ours as “our freewill donation” to support the company, and that the company would not be liable or obliged to repay us.

Rudely, he demanded we reframe the letter to include those “free of charge” clauses; otherwise, he would not authorise his department to fix the fault, even though we were responsible for providing the accessories.

A heated exchange followed my refusal to rewrite the letter. Another member of my team eventually did the rewriting.

A few weeks later, the same recalcitrant staff visited our estate meeting, now friendly and diplomatic, and greeted me with a smile.

“Hello Pastor, how are you?”

Right before the assembled audience, he reported, “Your pastor nearly fought with me at my office during our last meeting.”

All the other members of the gathering seemed to concur. Though playful, his accusation carried a heavy weight of truth.

Later, several questions welled up in my mind.

“Am I even a pastor?”

I've always felt the weight of being called a pastor. But does that qualify me as one?

“Yes, we had a verbal altercation, but was I really fighting on that day?"

To the second question, I answered myself. “Yes, there was a fight, a metaphorical verbal fight.”

When you fight corruption, corruption fights back.
~ Ngozi Okonjo-Iweala

In today’s Nigeria, minor and major misdemeanours are all too common.

In both high and low places, the easiest and safest option is to get sucked into and blend with the morass of corruption.

Corruption in government makes it easier for similar patterns to become normalised in our society.

In Nigeria, being called "Pastor" doesn't always refer to a church preacher or minister of the gospel. It is also an honorary title for anyone, especially Christians, trying to live according to the teachings of Jesus Christ.

A pastor carries moral authority and leadership. He is supposed to be different, defying wickedness and battling all forms of corruption through his speech and his conduct.

And that is a worthy and lofty societal expectation. would have been for them to acknowledge that my community paid for the repairs,

My fight on that day was more than just anger. I refused to blend in with unacceptable, corrupting expectations. I was simply insisting that the company do the right thing. The right thing would have been for them to acknowledge that my community paid for the repairs and not his company.

Personal Lesson: Be resolute because when you fight corruption, corruption will fight back at you.

Often, tests of your integrity will come subtly and in unexpected places.

Therefore, be on your guard, corrupters and their corrupting influences will challenge and test your integrity at all times and in all things.

Was I really fighting on that day? No. Never.

That encounter has taught me that being tagged a "Pastor" was less about me and more about the community's need for someone who will stand up for uprightness - insisting that right things be done the right way.

When leadership calls you to step up

Neither was it about my being rebellious. I was only trying to live authentically, even when the world around me tried to force me into its society-corroding mould.

True leadership isn’t about titles; it’s living truthfully and having the courage to stand for truth and integrity, even without guaranteed victory.

I’m not pontificating here.

Have courage.

Go and do likewise.

Courage is the most important of all the virtues, because without courage you can’t practice any other virtue consistently. You can practice any virtue erratically, but nothing consistently without courage.
~ Maya Angelou

Thanks for reading.

They Called Me “Pastor”, but I Fought was originally published in Muse2Muse on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.