LAST SUNDAY

         

The man in white robes, a white cap and black shades-the four eyes- is vigorously jumping up and down the pulpit in the name of dancing and praising the most high. Whenever I have looked at this man my thoughts have always reflected on one man whom, am quite sure would not share the same breathing space with the son of man who died for our sins at Calvary. This man might be the real Mzee Usinijaribu if not, his incarnation. Mzee Usinijaribu is a frequent visitor to Kando Kando junction, a legendary meeting point for hustlers who can’t afford bottled stuff. He has a standing posture that rivals no one. His left leg has always looked shorter than his right and the spaces created between those legs cannot allow him reside among the western Kenya community well known for chicken rearing. For how will he be able to catch a young hen with the mammoth gap between his legs? But how could he be the man at the pulpit? Could someone have an idea? Anyway he seems to have mastered the art of capturing audience attention. He utters some words that my medulla oblongata cannot encord and the jubilant brothers and sisters respond with a string of AMENS.

The church singing is appalling today. My fellow brother in Christ Mr. Mzalendo-the leading soloist-whom we share the same father in law is not in attendance today. He has an amazing talent in singing that makes women and weak men break into tears and fall down in convulsions. The chemistry behind this is something I wish to get to heaven and ask David the great king about. It’s just amazing!

I and Mzalendo ‘wedded’ on the same day. Kanyende, my despondent wife, was forcefully allowed to spend some of her miserable life with me. She had been dragged to my house with her fiery looking father and a few mean looking uncles who squeezed the last goat out of my compound as a token for having found cheap favours in their household. On a normal day, I would have inflicted injuries and resisted this act of impunity with my blood but the sight of a panga sticking out of Usinijaribu’s torn dirty grey coat made me think otherwise. I am usually petrified of this crude weapon especially from this area where sharpening isn’t in their language dictionary. A repetition of this scene occurred the same day at the compound of Mzalendo with Siriku replacing Kanyende on the cast list.  Ever since, I have regarded Mzalendo to be my closest defense and secret to taming my wife. That is what marriage is all about.

His absence is causing me trouble. Some reason is always behind his absence, a quarrel with his wife, being picked up in a ditch somewhere on a Sunday noon or a link to Mama Pima's missing kuku. Before I recollect my mind and bring it to ‘hope mode’ a commotion is heard from the outside. “Wewe ni manaume ya aina gani? Eh! Eh! leo matanieleza vizuri mbele ya umati, unaniskia! Jinga hii” screams of a man can then be heard.  My plump wife has blocked my way, despite the struggles I cannot find a way past her. The hunger burning inside me to watch these unfolding events is getting out of control. I don’t like being told since humans have a way of altering the initial picture. Women and children start wailing and scampering for safety, I cannot tell why. Am trying to engage my immediate neighbour Mr. Juma, who seems to have some height advantage over me to give me a clue but he seems to be struggling with the fear inside him and before I know it he is also out of sight. Men in this area are so ‘women’. The sight of blood erases the courage in me. Lying down is my friend Mzalendo covered in blood with his wife Sirika stepping on his stomach domineeringly.

“Ludini muone huyu mume mrevi! watoto hawezi rea! nyumba imebomoka! kazi yake ni kulandalanda tu! ludini mumuone, sasa mnakibiria wapi!.....nini inawafukuza”, shouts Sirika amid tears  to the empty church. We are only four of us left. My pity is to this lady for she can justify her pain. My wife, I mean the sister to Sirika is looking confused as ever, am ain’t in a better position either. My eyes are roaming to the priest who maybe can give some divine intervention  and am surprised, he is actually Mzee Usinijaribu. It dawns to me we have a family matter to solve.