Written by: Comrade Kunle Sodipo, ANIPR
ckswritings@gmail.com
October, 2026
There was a time the Temple was sacred.
The front row was not for the highest bidder. It was for the purest heart. For the elders whose knees knew the ground. For the truth-tellers whose tongues had not learnt how to lie. For the ones who could look at the Holy and not blink in shame.
That time is gone.
Now, look!
The snakes have taken over the front roles.
They slithered in silently, without footsteps. Dressed in agbada that hides their scales. Speaking in tongues on Sunday, and speaking in codes on Monday. They hug you with a smile and poison you with a whisper. They have learnt how to pray with their eyes closed and steal with their eyes open.
And the hyenas? Ah, the hyenas!
They did not sneak in. They laughed their way in. Loud, greedy, shameless. They came in packs. They took the microphones, they took the altars, they took the collection box and called it offering. They turned the sacred into a comedy show, and we are the unwilling audience. They eat the sacrifice meant for the gods and still ask for the bones of the worshippers.
Now that the snakes and the hyenas have taken over the front roles at the Temple, tell me:
Who will teach our children how to pray?
Who will tell the young man that honesty is still a virtue, when the biggest thief sits at the high table blessing him?
Who will tell the young woman that her body is a temple, when the Temple itself has become a brothel for power and money?
We clap for them. We call them Daddy. We call them Honourable. We call them Alhaji. We kneel for them to lay cursed hands on our heads.
And in doing so, we moved the true priests to the back. The honest teacher now sits behind, hungry. The sincere Imam now stands outside, ignored. The faithful nurse, the upright police officer, the farmer who never cheated — they are now at the back, watching the abomination.
Can a Temple stand when snakes are the pastors and hyenas are the elders?
No. A Temple does not fall with a loud crash. It dies slowly. First, the presence leaves. Then the power leaves. Then the people leave, even though their bodies still come every Sunday, every Friday.
This is why our prayers sound loud but change nothing.
This is why our nation fasts and still remains hungry.
This is why we build bigger temples but have smaller consciences.
We have desecrated the front roles.
But all hope is not lost.
Snakes can be exposed. Hyenas can be chased away. But only if the true owners of the Temple — you and I — stop clapping for nonsense. Stop celebrating thieves because they gave us crumbs from the altar. Stop fearing the hissing and the loud laughter.
The Temple belongs to the people. And the people must take it back.
It is time to clean the Temple again.
It is time to return the snakes to the bush and the hyenas to the forest.
It is time to bring back the saints to the front row.
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