Time seems to be in a race against itself. One day you are the cock of the walk (and I don’t mean literally) then the next you are a feather duster. Remember the days when Maths was the Science of numbers, a loaf of bread retailed at 15 bob and VoK was the only trusted news source (actually the only news source)? You don’t? Well, neither do I but all evidence points towards that. Like all good things, it all faded away. Alphabets decided to spoil the party of Maths and the economy slumped to a Trump-moral low, or so I am told.
Then there is us. We don’t quite need radio carbon dating to show us that we are aging. Soon, we will stop introducing ourselves with numbers and move on to the ‘tuko pamoja’ intro. Then comes the scary part: when our introductions will contain a certain phrase, “…and I am saved.” I am not against warriors of the cloak, or those that don the cloak but truly speaking, that has to be the scariest moment, second only to the apocalypse.
I do not go to church. It is not a statistic I can proudly update as a facebook status but it is a statement of fact. My resume in bible study does not quite catch the eye (maybe for only the wrong reasons) but the last time I checked, the good book advocates for honesty. I am being honest. Still, I am not an atheist. It is only that I have my reasons to spend my Sunday morning listening to a gospel playlist rather than going to church.
Church happens to be the place where all temptations get heightened. For instance, you get a back bench at the CU service and then wifi happens. Infinix is screaming for updates and you are curious to see what changes after updating. Secretly, you hope it upgrades to an iPhone. You know that with such hopes you need The Man Upstairs on your side so you concentrate on the homily. Somehow, the metallic seats feel cozy. You are woken by the lady beside you. She probably has the last natural pair of eyebrows on campus. A man has his weaknesses.
Remaining in your room with the playlist only presents one major temptation- Rebekah Dawn’s Kutembea Nawe is too slow and you haven’t really heard the last of DNCE’s Body Moves. In addition, it is in the comfort of your weekend’s patchy shorts and orange vest, or am I the only one who has those? See? My reasons to abscond the house are justified. For any neutral mind I stand a chance of reason. To most, my reasons are the best excuses since the typing error in the 2008/9 Kenyan budget. At least you have heard of that surely.
Then comes a time when you have to come out of your comfort zone. You fear that the neighbours might soon classify you in Moi’s top 10 illuminati, never mind your perennial beyond zero M-Pesa account. Also, you want to try your luck. Maybe the VC might pop in again and announce a new wifi hotspot. You like your news hot, not spicy. So, you’d rather not read it from 3-eyed witnesses (not the one you are thinking).
You make early preparations: get loose change for the offering, download the latest version of the bible app and sleep early enough for the first service. May the two-horned slayer keep off his temptations from this guy, Freak.Continues…
Call me Freak