Why mami is worried ...

For the last two or three weeks, I’d been receiving (and ignoring) mami’s calls … because she always called when I wasn’t in the right frame of mind … I mean, time difference is kindu 8 hrs and if you call me at 9 am (Kenyan time) on Sunday morning from Nairobi, I can ascertain with 99.99% confidence level that my outermost electrons will be sooo excited … if it’s my mum or dad, there is 101% confidence that I will not pick up the phone. I respect them too much to risk feeding them gibberish …

And so things came to a head yesterday. I had just gotten home when the phone rang. It was my mum. Usual salutations … inquiries about health … weather … then came the bomb.

“Do you still go to church?”

I was holding on one hand the phone, and on the other a glass of Captain Morgan’s. I wondered if I should say yes so the topic could end or to be honest. I looked at the Captain and felt a tinge of guilt. I know my mother so well. By asking me if I normally go to church, it was her non-confrontational way of asking: “Is it because you are out drinking late on Saturday night that you do not pick up my phone?”

I looked at the Captain again. What should I say? Then the devil overpowered me. I took a monster swig and downed the 1/4 glass of rum in one go. For a moment, I went into a trance as the bitterly pungent rum worked its way down the throat, up the eyes (tear drop) and nose (belch). My mum jolted me out of my momentary reverie with an innocuous question: “Kari karia uranyua?”

By now, the warmth of the shot had worked its way up my body, emboldening me in the process. I was ready for verbiage. Without a twitch, I calmly replied, “aca, ni kajuice ndirakunda na dinner...” Distracting her attention from the “church battle” would have been catastrophic – especially with the mention of certain organic compounds – notwithstanding Jesus’ first miracle.

My mum hates alcohol with a passion – if that is possible. She has always cautioned me against going anywhere near, let alone consuming alcohol. But I started my theoretical rebellion early. Just so I don’t confuse my meaning, by theoretical rebellion, I mean exactly that. It was the best I could do. You cannot sniff an alcoholic drink and sleep in my father’s house – be you the first son, or even Jesus for that matter.

And so it was that after my KCPE, I had tons of temps libre to explore my bible. Alas, I stumbled upon 1 Timothy 5:23 . I promptly committed to that part of memory that records things like the first chick you kissed, wekad, etc … the part that never forgets …

“Drink no longer water, but use a little wine for thy stomach’s sake and thine often infirmities.” I had the perfect weapon for the next time she lectured me on the ills of drinking. Or so I thought …

That verse (may the good lord forgive me) almost cost me my sanity. Immediately I quoted the verse to her, she went into a frenzy, countering me with prolonged, bitter and outspoken denunciations for what seemed like an eternity. To make matters worse, when the time came for me to finally go to form 1, I had to endure about an hour of counsel (more like rebuke) from our pastor and a church elder on the various apparitions taken by the devil and conveniently sneaked in alcohol as an example.

What a low blow! I mean, shetani is guilty of soooo many evils but kanywaji is not one of them. If so, what does that say of Jesus’ 1st miracle, what of Holy Communion in a lot of churches (not ours, coz we use strawberry juice)? Seriously, once you have set a precedent that alcohol is bad, then it necessarily implies that those who partake of it are bad … and if you so happen not to believe in lesser evil, then you can’t make a convincing religious argument that those who drink more are any worse than those who kunywa kidogo. Right? Perhaps you can question their discipline or moral uprightness (same way you would criticize someone who overeats, over speeds, sleeps in, etc) but not their fate when they die … I stand to be corrected though…

Anyway, I digress.

“Do you go to church?”

“No, I haven’t been since my sophomore year in college,” said I emphatically. That, mind you is almost 4 years ago.

Until my calling card ran out of airtime, I was barely able to utter a cohesive sentence; mami took over the airwaves and made me know what time it was:

• I raised you in the church

• If you don’t go to church you forget about God

• Without God, you cannot succeed

• You are also more likely to fall into bad company

• And end up like Donde jr. et al

• Look for a church

• And get your [butt] over there

I love mami to death but I disagree with her.

•  Yes, you raised me in the church and I really appreciate that

•  Yes, I do sometimes forget to pray or even think I can do stuff on my own

•  Yes, without God I cannot succeed

•  No, I am not falling into any bad company – u raised me in the church, remember?

•  I will not do a Donde on you, that’s a solemn vow

•  Ummm… do I really have to ?

In the words of Julius Nyerere:

“The church cannot uplift a man; it can only help to provide the conditions and the opportunity for him to cooperate with his fellows to uplift himself.”

I often ask myself thsese questions:

1] Is there God ? And I answer yes
2]What does he want? He wants me to serve him
3]How? By serving my fellow brothers and sisters
4]Do I know how? I think so
5]So why go to church? I dunno ...
6]Do I have issues with the Christian intepretation of God? Yes, some things ... but overall, it can guide you down the straight and narrow...
7]Isn't the preacher giving me his own intepretation of God's word? Yes
8]Isn't my own intepretation just as valid? I think so ... I don't believe that going to bible school is quite the same as going to say, med school ... in the latter case, there is little room for subjectivity, almost formulaic, but in the former, i think one just perfects the art of "subjective persuasion"
9]Could I be wrong? Most certainly
10]What to do now? Pray, let my deeds serve God. If that's not enough, God have mercy on me.