Just a friendly disclaimer to those readers who will be going through this ‘hekaya’ with anticipations of coming across momos, thresholds and all their relatives. I’m a strict follower of exodus 20:8 hence I will be keeping the day holy. I’m just keeping myself safe so that on that day, when angel Gabriel will be reading my judgement, straying the holy minds of his sheep won’t be on my charge list. And I won’t be talking about this day, for the holy day ain’t complete yet…I’ll talk about last SUNDAY.
So a good Christian friend of mine, Mark, requests me to escort him to one of the churches in Ukunda. He was an extinguished guest hence these people don’t attend such invitations alone. They need backup. Let the congregation reading this have it in mind that my friend is not a Christian…. he is a “Christian”. I know all the pleasures and leisures of this descendant of Adam. I’m I fact inclined to tell you that I know him better than God himself but I don’t want blasphemy to be on my charge list either.
Ffw I woke up late and forewent breakfast, putting in mind that pastor guests and their crew are usually digestively well taken care of. We reach Ukunda and follow an abandoned path to the interior. I later checked on the maps and couldn’t find it. We reach a certain school whose name is a ‘certain Swahili methali’ primary school. We were welcomed with greetings and hugs. We were four, yours truly, my friend Mark and two ladies. The man who welcomed us (and who later introduced himself as the church’s organizing secretary) was wearing a baggy shiny Kaunda suit. The guy himself was half my size but I would have tailored three Kaunda suits fitting me from the material used to make his.
The school’s classes were being used as churches of three different denominations and all were competing for God’s attention. Ours was a small room, the floor pot-holed like Tom Mboya street. On the walls were alphabetical chats…a clear indication that the class room was either nursery or std 1. The benches were so short that my knees surpassed my head when I sat. I was literally struggling to keep my knees from blocking my view to the alter. The room was hot yet the ushers insisted on closing the door, claiming that….and I quote ‘hatutaki Baraka zetu zimwagike nje’. So we had no choice but to sweat in perseverance. After one or two songs, the lady in charge of the program announced time for tea. The Luhya in me woke up and gave her announcement a standing ovation.
Suddenly, another lady stood with a bible and preached for one good hour. And after finishing she said, ‘na hiyo ndiyo chai yetu ya leo.’ I yawned hadi machozi ikatoka. ‘Sasa ni wakati wa kusifu….ambia jirani, nipe nafasi na usinisumbue nikichezea Mungu.” The programmer announced. The drum was hit in agreement…the drum here is a 30 litre blue mtungi brethren. That thing was being hit mercilessly as if it had been used to brew chang’aa before ‘ianze kumtumikia mungu.’ Singing begun….some ladies started weeping uncontrollably….probably begging the Supreme Being to delete the sins committed during the week. Another one was jumping up and down, threatening to jump till she reaches heaven. Another one was rolling on the floor like she was possessed. I watched in mesmerization till I decided to fit in…I closed my eyes and started speaking Zulu and Khoisan. By then was 1pm. Other churches in the compound had closed and gone home.
I opened one eye and saw Mark being slapped by the pastor….’ Mwache mtumishi wa mungu, mwache rudi… baharini ulikotoka ….rudi kumanyoko…rudi rudi ridi….rudi kumbaffu ruuudi katika’……everybody roared in unison, including me ‘Jina la yesu kristo!!!’ then he fell on the ground. Scientifically, I deducted that his fall was due to the dizziness as a result of the slaps, but spiritually they said that it was because the devil had refused leave my friend. On the ground he received all types of kicks from the pastor….the congregation backing him with ‘Toka! Toka! toka’ exclamations. If I had known better I would have thought that the pastor and Mark had personal differences and so the former wanted to kill the latter ‘Katika jina layesu kristo’. All this stopped when the pastor announced that the devil had finally left and Mark stood up…filthy and sweaty. I didn’t believe this is the same friend of mine I had always known.
Then the programmer asked the congregation whether they were hungry or tired. They denied everything claiming ‘wameshiba na neno la Bwana’ and the holy spirit had given them strength. I yawned five times in despair. It was now 4pm and another young man came in followed by 3 people….another guests. He was given a chance to greet the congregation and introduce his crew….mistake . He talked for one hour. I didn’t know whether he was bragging or really witnessing what god had done to him. Then he started soothsaying for people. He told me of my spiritual problems and how an old ‘nyanya’ is on me.
It’s now 6pm brethren and that’s when they announced ‘tupate vinywaji’. I didn’t put that into consideration considering what ‘chai’ had meant earlier. But to my surprise, drinks were brought…250 ml club sodas. I drunk one sprite hurriedly and felt the urge to visit the loo. I ran to the small office hoping to drop my best two with a thud. I only ended up releasing the carbon dioxide the club soda had accumulated in me and left the loo. I vowed to remain outside and no way was I going back to the church. Mark saw me and tried to convince me to wait for supper….the closing sermon. He noticed my impatience and called the other crew so that we could leave. On the way he told me that the service was slated to end at 8pm. ‘Hata mtumishi mmoja alisuggest ikue kesha’. I yawned at him.
Nice flow.