MAN IN THE HOOD: My dramatic first day at my new church

I am a frequent churchgoer, by frequent I mean twice a month. On a lazy month, I only manage to go once.

Inordinate religious peeps will scowl and issue a conjecture stating that visiting the house of the Lord only once a fortnight is nothing really. Maybe, but still, my frequency is higher than that of a lot of people.

For example, my good brother Jose hasn’t stepped in a church for three years. He has conveniently labelled Sunday as siku ya kulala.

HOUSE OF THE LORD

I have actually improved a lot. I used to go to church only twice a year – on New Year’s Day and on Christmas Day.

On New Year’s Day, I would go to pray for a better year and to set resolutions that I’d break in three days or less. On Christmas, I went because I wanted to amass enough hunger to feast properly afterwards.

Church services are usually longer on Christmas Day, especially in ushago, hence you are more likely to start starving way before the conclusion. By the time the proceedings are over, you are so hungry you feel like flattening a full goat.

When I was growing up, my appetite used to play tricks on me. It would appropriately wait for Christmas Day to disappear. And when you don’t eat a lot on Christmas, you tend to feel like you have wasted the day. So I made sure I never missed church service on this day so that I’d have enough hunger to attack several pieces of chicken and steak later on.

Things are different nowadays. I have realised the importance of not just praying to God while dragging myself out of bed but going to his house to praise Him as well.

NEW CHURCH

This past Sunday, I decided to try out a new church. It is nearer where I live compared to the one I usually go to. I was told that a few celebrities go to this particular church too.

To add even more incentives, I was informed that the ladies there radiated unrivalled beauty and the morality of Mary Magdalene. Maybe I’d meet my future wife there. Who knows?

The first thing I noticed when I entered was the ebullient choirmaster who was a little extra. Singing aside, he was oscillating his body and doing acrobatics you’d think there was a “Dancing with the Stars” judge in the congregation.

The other choir members made sure to maintain some distance from him. Perhaps they bore the trepidation that he might knock them out with his flying elbows.

The woman that came and sat next to me was even more dramatic. She sang and clapped so loudly that my eardrums almost shut down like Microsoft Windows after use. Whenever she didn’t know the words to a song, she would come up with her own to fill in the blanks.

Things got even worse when the pastor began preaching. The lady couldn’t help but provide affirmation to everything the preacher said. Even when he coughed or sneezed, she was like “Preach pastor! Halleluyah! Amen!” And when the pastor cracked blunt jokes, she would laugh, cackle after cackle, like she was watching a Will Ferrell movie.

THE WELCOME

As I leafed through the full-colour brochure I had been given when I entered, the most dreaded time for newcomers came.

“Kama wewe ni mgeni kwa hii kanisa tunaomba usimame (If this is your first time in this church, please stand up),” the pastor said.

Of course I wasn’t going to stand. I remained on my seat and acted like I was one of the founding fathers of the church.

Unfortunately, the pastor had the keenness of an eagle. After a few people had stood up, he pointed at the area I was seated and bellowed: “Young man at the back with Albert Einstein spectacles, I’ve never seen you in this church before. Simama tukukaribishe (Stand up so we can welcome you).”

Everyone turned their heads back to look and I also turned back, forgetting that I was on the last row. I looked to my left and right to see if there was anyone else wearing spectacles – nope, none, just me.

Wow! How did he even know I was new? And did he just refer to my glasses as Albert Einstein spectacles? That’s quite a witty way to diss one of your newest congregants. 

You see, my eyesight is about as weak as Manchester United’s defence and my thick glasses are quite conspicuous but I never thought they’d sell me out like that.

Damn you spectacles. You are grounded for the next two weeks. I am not putting you on my face. I don’t care if I walk into a ditch.

FRONT ROW SEAT

Anyway, I stood up and after the newcomers like me were welcomed, we were asked to go sit at the front row.

I hate front rows.

While I was walking, I tripped on someone’s leg and fell. I hit knee first on the floor but luckily, I didn’t roll like a sack. It was painful but I continued walking as if nothing had happened. Call it kukausha.

The devil was already trying to embarrass me in front of any potential future wife that was present, but I wasn’t going to let him win. Shindwe Saitan! Haha!

At the front row, one of the new guys seated next to me managed to sleep the entire time despite how loud things were. Surprisingly the keen pastor never noticed. The fella must have been at expert at sleeping in class.

I was planning to walk out immediately the service was over but the pastor asked the newcomers to join him in another room so that he could talk to us briefly.

If only I knew that ‘briefly’ was his code word for ‘forever.’ It felt like a double Maths lesson. He kept talking about himself until I had to excuse myself to go to the washrooms. I didn’t go back.

So much drama! But I’ll still go back. That future wife must be found.

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