Of False Prophets and Lost Sheep.

“Halleluya church!”…that’s the greeting as I walk into Christ Kingdom Holyghost Fire & Repentance Ministries. The sermon is led by His Holiness the Archbishop John Snow who has made his flock believe that he is the Warden of the North, the Lord’s representative on earth; that he is the way, the truth and the light of the earth and no one cometh to the father except through him. The congregation is all ears, very quick shout “Amen!” after every statement from the Archbishop. Even the slightest cough from his wife Her Holiness Myrcella Baratheon is met by joyous shouts of amen!

As I enter, the preacher pauses his sermon suddenly and begins looking, or rather staring at me like he knows me, like he’s 33 seen me somewhere. Then I remember; I know him too. He’s my next door neighbor, the guy that plays loud rhumba music all day and night. And just the other night I found him passed out by the gate, probably too drunk to get up and climb all the way to his house on the the fourth floor. Yeah I also find it hard to believe, especially considering that prior to finding him blacked out on the staircase, I think I shared the same table with him at this local pub that I usually visit from time to time.

I quickly find a seat somewhere at the back, somewhere where the curious eyes of the congregation can’t keep staring at me and unfortunately I find a seat next to this beautiful lady (or should I call her ‘hot chic’ coz that’s what I hear they’re called nowadays). She’s dressed in a white top and a very short dress, probably the one she wore to the club the previous night with her Rambo Kanambo boyfriend. By this time John Snow is seriously preaching on repentance and forgiveness, on how all men have sinned and we shouldn’t judge a person based on what we’ve seen them do. We’re then told to take out our bibles and open the a certain verse; I cant remember what verse but I just know its this one that talks about seventy seven times seven times and since I didn’t carry mine am left staring at nothing as others read the verse out loud. As am still looking at nothing, the hot chic moves closer so that we can share her bible. I smile at her, she smiles back and then she places her bible on her lap so that we may read together.

Now I know to most guys it would be a blessing to have her sitting next to them but to me that’s not the case. I happen to be those guys, those guys that weren’t really gifted in the art of sociology. To me having a lady as beautiful as this one sitting next me is more of a torture coz the first thing that will happen is I’ll start sweating, then my throat will dry up, then I’ll find myself playing with my fingers which will also be sweaty by then and I’ll end up not saying any word to her, except when the preacher says the ‘turn to your neighbor’ phrase that they usually say. Yeah believe me, such guys still exist. And I happen to be one of them; we’re a rare species facing extinction I guess.

thighAs I am semi-consciously reading the bible that’s on her lap, my eyes decide to take a walk. I stop reading the bible and start staring at a tattoo that’s on her thigh, it’s a tattoo of a skeleton, or skull, whichever. Then I start fantasizing , thinking of what lies beneath that short dress. Suddenly she gets up. I begin to tremble thinking she has noticed me staring at her exposed thighs and just as am about to say a quick ‘sorry’, I realize its time for sadaka, time to give to Caesar what belongs to Caesar and to God what belongs to Him and that’s why she’s standing up to go and drop her offering. I quickly dip my hands into my pocket to find my sadaka and that’s when it hits me that I only have a 1000 shilling note in my wallet and no loose money of a smaller denomination coz I forgot to break it down into smaller notes before getting into the church. And there’s no way am giving all that to Caesar. So I turn to this guy that’s sitting behind me and ask him if he can break it down for me. He says he doesn’t have smaller denominations but he can ‘loan’ me 100 shillings to use as my sadaka on condition that I pay it back after the service…with an interest of 40 percent!

I agree to his conditions, he gives me the money and I start walking to the front of the church where the box for collecting the sadaka is but instead of a regular collection box that I’d thought I’d find, am shocked to see a tank, a big white plastic water tank! That’s where the ‘pastor’s money’ is collected. All this time the Archbishop’s sitted on his altar, rubbing his kitambi and smiling at us as the choir is busy singing a song on how God loves a generous giver. I half-heartedly drop my money into the collection tank and quickly find my way back to my seat next to the-girl-with-the-skeleton-tattoo who I find busy taking selfies, in church! She takes about 10 selfies and next she logs into her instagram account. That’s where they all end up posted, with harsh tags of #ChurchTings #FeelingBlessed #God #Jesus #Moses #Abraham #Nebucadenezer among other tags. And so I secretly open my instagram account on my phone too, search for her and begin double-tapping her #ChurchTings.

I finish doing this just in time as the preacher stands up to continue with his sermon. We’re told to open the book of John 3:16 where God so loved the world that He gave His only begotten son. This time round the tattoo girl doesn’t open her bible, so that means no thighs for me.

Time flies and soon we’re asked to stand up for the final prayers. As am standing up, the guy that loaned me money whispers in my ear telling me not to dare leaving without paying back his money.

Minutes later the sermon is over and people start walking out of the church. I too follow suit with the money guy right behind me and I reach into my pocket to take out my wallet but I don’t find it. I look for it in my other pockets but I can’t find it there too…it’s gone, I’ve been pick-pocketed in church! I find myself laughing at nothing and decide to go with this guy to an M-Pesa shop and withdraw the money to pay him. We stop at a nearby shop and I once again reach into my pocket for my phone which funnily enough is not in any of my pockets! I turn around to tell the loan guy what’s happening to me but he’s also not where he was, he’s disappeared too! That’s when I realize he must be the thief, the guy was sitted right behind me in church and saw me take out my wallet. The only thing that I don’t understand me is how he managed to steal my phone too…a real expert indeed. And now I feel so stupid to have let myself be ripped off in such an easy way and yet at the same time I just have to salute the pickpocket for being so smart…yeah, to me that’s amazing. to him that’s a quick check, with all disrespect let me say this;
I am a sinner
Who is probably going to sin again
Lord forgive me
Lord forgive me
Things I don’t understand
Sometimes I need to be alone……

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