Generational Curse?
Intriguing stories have a way of making me momentarily oblivious to my environment, whether they’re written or spoken; the effect remains the same. That was exactly how captivated I was while listening to a woman who had boarded the same Tricycle with me some days ago.
Initially, I was the only passenger seated on the clean, welcoming tricycle, and sweet-smelling tricycle - tear-nylon tricycle. in fact, the seats were still wrapped in white nylons. ‘Maybe, he just bought it after years of riding another’s, or the opposite, either way, congratulation to him.
I was so comfortable that I wished no one else would flag the tricycle down, let alone enter. But that was selfish of me, and if that wished have happened, I would have missed out on an intriguing story.
About seven minutes into the ride, just in front of the community’s king’s palace, the tricycle was flagged down by two men who had a significant difference in height, with the shorter one wearing sunglasses.
“who wears sun glasses early in the morning?” I wondered, adjusting myself to make space for both.
The taller man — Mr. T— guided the short man —Mr. S— into the Tricycle. As soon as Mr. S got in, he groped around to find the iron divider between the driver and passenger section, which he held unto. With the opportunity of him sitting beside me, I ran my eyes all over him. His chieftaincy cap was of a unique type, alongside the glittering neck and wrist bead gracing his hairy skin. Not long after he had settled in, he began conversing with Mr. T
It’s important to note that I wasn’t on my phone, so my eyes and ears where both active.
From the conversation it dawned on me that the blind man, Mr. S, was once the dean of a department in the state’s University, and also a man who have dined with kings and governors.
Naturally, questions began forming in my mind.
“Have he been blind since childhood? Was it an accident?”
At intervals, he would calmly speak to the driver, asking him to slow down or ignore certain people along the road, because that morning seemed to be coated with a lot of human drama for the driver..
After about fifteen minutes, a chubby woman got in and took the seat beside the driver’s. She looked toward the back seat and greeted, then she looked again
“Mr. S, it’s Mrs. Oke greeting” she added with a smile.
“Ah, Mrs.Oke. How are you doing? I hope those children are hale and hearty?”
Mrs. Oke responded politely, and silence followed for the rest of the ride.
However, as soon as Mr. T and Mr. S got down, Mrs. Oke leaned toward the driver — I suppose they knew each other — and began narrating the genesis of Mr. S’s blindness.
I struggled against the rushing breeze to catch as many of her words as I could, but nature always seems to win that battle.
“Do you know he once was eligible for a kingship position?”
“Ah, you don’t mean it!” the driver exclaimed, “but how did he get blind?” he asked.
“In their family, they all die blind” she said, “his father, mother, brother all died blind” she added.
According to Mrs. Oke, this pattern had been going on for more than fifty years, and it was as a result of a curse from a daughter in-law who had been treated so terribly by the family.
‘The the community even asked the family to go apologize to the woman, but they took it lightly.’ she added.
I smiled to myself.
“This is probably a superstitious belief,” I thought.
“They probably have a genetic eye disease.”
But that wasn’t the first story of this nature I had heard.
Not long before that day, a distant elderly relative; a born again, firebrand follower of Jesus. I don’t know if detailing her credentials would make the story truer, but I hope it does. The story was in response to the strange pattern in her family. In their family, the only women who ever got married were those who already had a child out of wedlock.
‘Many years ago, my great grand father buried a virgin alive. And while she was dying, she spoke in anguish: ‘No female member of this family will ever marry as a virgin.’
I didn’t doubt the story because she witnessed the burial as a child, and then the ripple effects of those words as an Adult, however, I doubted the possibility of the words of a young woman in pains having such impact.
I shrugged internally.
“If only those young women would begin listening to the likes of Kingsley Okonkwo and Pastor Iren, attend singles conferences, and position themselves better for marriage, maybe the problem would be solved,” I muttered.
“After all, it only takes a YouTube search.”
Yet those stories refused to leave my mind.
For the next few weeks, a part of my mind was leased out to ruffle with those thoughts, and it was during those few weeks that I read 1 Kings 16, and something in that chapter made those stories feel less distant.
The passage spoke about a man, Hiel of Bethel, who took it upon himself to rebuild the walls of Jericho, this was about approximately five hundred years after the children of Israel through obedience to God’s instructions had brought the walls of Jericho down. While this man was on this rebuilding project, something spectacular happened. He lost two sons at different phases of the project.
For all I know, this man was only trying to be a zealous and patriotic citizen. In fact he was so zealous that he turned it a personal project. In this modern time, it would be similar to someone personally funding the reconstruction of a dilapidated federal road.
It was during his reign that Hiel, a man from Bethel, rebuilt Jericho. When he laid its foundations, it cost him the life of his oldest son, Abiram. And when he completed it and set up its gates, it cost him the life of his youngest son, Segub. This all happened according to the message from the LORD concerning Jericho spoken by Joshua son of Nun. 1 Kings 16:34 NLT
“Why would be lose his two sons?”
“Did he sacrifice them for rituals?”
“Why did they die at such specific phases of the building?”
Curious, I began searching commentaries, Bible dictionaries, and cross-references for something, anything that would bring clarity.
Eventually, I found something.
In Joshua 6:26, immediately after Jericho’s walls fell, Joshua declared a curse on anyone who would attempt to rebuild it.
At that time Joshua invoked this curse: “May the curse of the LORD fall on anyone who tries to rebuild the town of Jericho. At the cost of his firstborn son, he will lay its foundation. At the cost of his youngest son, he will set up its gates.” Joshua 6:26 NLT
“Argh, but he said this about 500 years before this man started the rebuilding process, isn’t that enough time to neutralize the curse?”
I think if Hiel had ordered an autopsies for his sons, perhaps the reports would have satisfied everyone.
“Sudden heart attack.”
“Unknown illness.”
No, that’s not true. They were victims of something that was said 500 years ago, simple. Well, it’s not that simple because he doesn’t make sense to the people of intellect.
And so the question remains.
What do you think about curses invoked by humans, either because of deep pain or as a mouthpiece of God?
Have you ever seen the ripple effects of such words in someone’s life?
Or perhaps even in your own?
Are these things merely superstition?
Or does Scripture reveal something deeper about the weight of human words?
“Finally, I believe God has made provision for deliverance. But can anyone truly be delivered from what they are ignorant of?”
And you will know the truth [regarding salvation], and the truth will set you free [from the penalty of sin].” John 8:32 AMP