Long before Patrick Fynn became the Casanova he is today, he was the president of a group called the Ghana Gnashing Boys Association (GGBA). After many years of practicing instructions from all the grabbing playbook available to no avail, Patrick suggested to his group members that they seek the face of God. That was their last resort. Otherwise, they would get castrated and become Ghana’s first set of eunuchs.

The Achimota Forest was prayer their camp. Every Friday, they met there to put their problems before God. Sad for Patrick and his team and against their expectation, the first three months of weekly fasting yielded zero results. Afraid that what he feared may come upon him (i.e. he would become an eunuch and die a virgin), he made a last suggestion that the team does a three-day dry fasting and prayers.

They selected three themes for their retreat:


Everything went well on the first two days of going without food. The boys prayed all kinds of prayer inculcating all the prayer gymnastics they knew and could invent. Some of their prayer postures, though, could not be distinguished from Akuma Mama Zimbi’s sex positions. What made matters worse and had passers-by wondering what was wrong with the boys was their groaning and moaning in prayer.

They had koinonia, fed on logos and had an overdose of rhema from God. Prophetic ministrations and divine directions were coming to them from all angles. For Patrick Fynn especially, the word of God came to him that on the first day after the fast, he would meet a lady he had been crushing on all his life. The group’s chief prophet, Nii who was giving the prophetic word gave a vivid description of the lady including the number of eye lashes she had. Prophet Nii could not have been any right about his prophesy as Patrick confirmed every single description of his crush. All the team members were encouraged to be steadfast in the last day of prayers and finish hard.

On the last day, prayers continued unabated. The boys fired up more than they had in the first two days. In the third hour of prayer, Patrick suddenly held his stomach and yelped in a shrill voice. Most of the boys thinking that their leader was changing his prayer gears to the fifth imitated the same yelping shrill sound and continued in prayer. Then Patrick went on his knees, still holding tightly to his abdomen.

“I feel the spirit moving”, Prophet Nii interpreted Patrick’s posture. “He is filling Patrick’s belly with words. From this place, Patrick Fynn would burst out! And any lady he speaks to cannot reject his proposal. Come on, people. Feel it in your belly too! Go on your knees and place your hands on your abdomen. Let the spirit fill you!”

The boys complied and sang Sonnie Badu’s “Baba, we are in your presence. Let it rain.”

At this point, Patrick was in tears. The other boys looked at one another and broke into tears as well. This time without Prophet Nii’s direction. Nii was quiet. He observed Patrick closely and noticed that his actions were not borne out of prayer. The dude was in pain.

“Shut up, all of you!” Prophet Nii ordered. “Your leader is dying!”.

Immediately, the prayer ceased! Everyone turned their attention to Patrick who was now crying loudly and rolling on the floor. His hands grabbed and squeezed his abdomen. Prophet Nii ordered that they get the leader a cup of water for the leader. This meant that Patrick was breaking the fast prematurely but they did not have an option.

One gulp of water and Patrick threw up! Ladies and gentlemen, Patrick Fynn’s barf was all gari! For someone who had had no food and water for three days, that was strange. Again, the boys looked at one another’s faces quizzically.

Sensing danger, Patrick Fynn looked at the skies and exclaimed, “God, why?! Why are you putting your son to shame? I asked you to let your angels feed me over night and the best you could do was gari? God, why?”

But the boys would have none of that. Nii, especially, who already had a girlfriend but followed them to lend spiritual support was angry. He gritted his teeth while simultaneously trying to get some words out. His fist was clinched and he was ready to pounce on the weak Patrick Fynn. Only God knows where Patrick Fynn got the strength from to flee.

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