The Power

We never dared to imagine it.

A world that was built for us.

Where we made the rules.

Where we could take what we wanted.

A world where God looked like us.

Where we were not afraid.

Where we were the ones to be feared.

But that world was at our fingertips.

All we had to do was burn down the world that was.

Every revolution begins with a spark.

Lord knows what she's been through.

We were told her mama gave her up when she was three.

She's been bounced around from one foster home to another.

But all that's behind us now, isn't it, sweetie?

Doctors say there's nothing wrong with her, physically.

But, um, she just won't talk.

She hasn't said a word in six months.

In speech therapy we call this selective mutism.

It's a psychological condition.

It happens most frequently in children who've experienced trauma.

Now, no offense, but is it possible that all this therapy,

it's just making a mountain out of a molehill?

Maybe Allie is just the quiet type.

Nothing wrong with that.

Lord knows, the Missus does enough talking for the both of 'em.

Clyde! Always messin'!

But we have been blessed in so many ways.

Just never with a child of our own.

We've had foster children before,

plenty of 'em, but, um... But Allie's different.

I was hoping, with a little structure and stability,

lots of love and prayer...

that we could get her speaking again.

She will. When she's ready. When she feels stronger.

And that's something we can work on together.

If that's okay with you, Allie?

Allie, can you find me the yellow hairtie?

Allison.

Thank you.

Brothers and sisters in Christ.

I have a disease.

The doc says the symptoms

are failure to mow the lawn once a week...

...eyeballing my neighbour's new truck,

spending too much on shoes.

and looking just a little too long

at that picture of Scarlett Johansson in her superhero outfit.

Yes, the doc says that I

have a raging case of sinful human nature, y'all,

and it's hereditary.

Sin...

passed down from my great-great-great- great-grandmama Eve.

- Original sin... - Bullshit.

- That we are bathed in, and... - Blame Eve.

"Always blame Eve."

That's what you're thinking, isn't it, Allie?

I am forbidding from my lust.

It's time to use that voice.

I know you got one.

To live right...

I'll go after her.

- ...with faith and worship... - Stay.

- No point in running, girl. - I'm in your head.

Call me your guardian angel,

the devil, your mama...

I'm here to keep you safe.

You don't got to be afraid.

You don't ever have to be afraid again.

You can feel it, can't you?

Right there in your chest.

The power.

A better future is in your hands.

Roxy? The wedding starts in an hour!

Fuck.

- Roxy! - Fuck.

Are you crying?

No.

You belong there as much as any of them, darling.

Mum, it's not that deep.

I poked myself in the eye with a fucking pencil.

Hmm.

So is this what you're wearing, yeah?

Mum, stop stressing me!

Sorry. You look gorgeous.

When I was your age, I had a dress like that.

I had a lot more cleavage on show, though.

Slut.

Hey! Aah!

I'm gonna ask Dad for a proper job.

Oh, not today, Rox. I'm warning you.

There's a lot hanging on this wedding. He's wound up enough as it is.

- Did you speak to him? - Yeah.

I had a pint with him last week.

You know...

he doesn't see you that way, darling.

I always thought I'd have a big wedding.

No one's good enough for you, Mum.

You're beautiful, you know that.

You'll bring us back a piece of cake, yeah?

- Good morning, sir. - Mr. Monke.

Good morning, Mr. Monke.

What's that?

That is what you ordered.

Do I look like an Irishman?

No, I just followed the instructions your wife gave me.

Are you saying my wife is a lying fucking Irish cunt?

Mr. Monke. Everything okay?

That's not the cake I ordered.

It's green.

Make me a new one.

I-I'm sorry. That's impossible, sir. Um...

We cut the cake in a matter of hours.

Um...

M-Mr. Monke, I'm sure we can--

Um...

Make me a new one.

I'm gonna be right back. I'm gonna do the other eye off-camera, and then...

Merry Christmas!

- Mom, stop. - I told you I didn't want to wear this.

Aw, you look cute, honey.

No fucking way.

Mom, don't post this!

Jos, hurry up! You're gonna miss the bus!

Hey, Tunde!

Hey, Ndudi!

Are you crazy, going through the market like that?

- Ah, you know me. Nothing touches me. - I'm from the hood.

Ah.

Ndudi, is it okay if we take a rain check?

It's my first week and Popsy's not gonna want me out late.

Let me just tell you about it, eh?

It's going to break the Internet.

- I'm telling you. - Oh, come on, Ndudi!

Let me just give you a ride home.

Okay. You can just drop me at the gates.

Hold this.

You are still struggling with nine-to-five, eh?

Ah, please.

I'm gonna be a journalist, no matter what my dad wants.

Come on.

All right, we do one small post.

- That's it, okay? Are you ready? - Okay. I'm ready.

Okay, welcome back to Tunde Ojo's Guide to Lagos!

Today we have a very, very, very special guest, okay?

Listen, listen well.

Well, she's Lagos' number one lady journalist.

More of a journalist than you'll ever be.

- Ndudi Okafor! - Ay!

Who has a story that's going to change the world.

- And it's about... - Juju.

- Really? - Yes, yes, really.

- Magic sheets? - It's about Juju.

Come back to me.

So the cousin of a girl I know invited her to a juju meeting, just for women,

- to awaken their powers. - Wow,

- their powers. - I know, right?

It's got to be a scam.

- So I'm thinking I go in... - Uh-huh.

- ...you do hidden filming. - Yeah.

- I put it in my thesis. - Yeah.

You put the video on your channel, and we destroy some criminals.

Eh?

- Come on, Tunde! - Yeah?

- I know you can't resist a scoop. - Uh, Ndudi, come on, I can't, uh...

What? Who are you texting?

Is it Tinder? You are Tindering, aren't you?

Oh.

You already have plans.

Um...

Call me when you get back?

Maybe.

I'll probably be tired.

Mr. Journalist.

You are early.