By Kenneth Jura | Kenya
We all sat waiting for the service to start, on my left and right were two sisters, Nicole and Angie, sandwiching me between them like some young cheeky boy not to be left alone roaming in the church and its precincts. On my lap sat my little daughter as the mother sat with our youngest son. Our first born son, Ricky left for Sunday school, from which he stood to benefit more with his fellow children as opposed to joining us in the adult service.
Earlier that morning my wife asked of what I thought about our twins being baptized as is the common practice in our church, they were now six months and quite ripe for baptism. “Can we start looking for God parents ?” she asked “Why should we?” my other wife interjected. “Hey we need to hurry up we are getting late” I evaded the question to deliberately avoid a debate.
We all stood up as is the norm although on the farthest end of the row was a gentleman with a goatee which had started graying, a nice suit to match and a checked shirt. He wore a pair of lacoste shoes and a shiny silver omega watch.
Midway into the service the gentleman heavily snored that everyone’s optical were aimed at the petite girl in a yellow dress who shook him to avoid further eye jabs. He woke up with blood shot eyes not bothered by what the congregation thought of him, he majestically inserted his index finger into his nostrils in a bid to empty its contents then cleaned it in an upward position using his palm, stretched sideways and sat on his right derriere with his legs crossed.
“In the book of Judges 13 a man called Manoah stood the test of time with a barren woman…” sermon was meticulously delivered by Rev Akello and driven home by her abrasive examples and straight talking manner. “Children are never to blame when they hurl insults at each other, parents are, who steals CDF money if not parents?, when children die of hunger yet money meant for their school feeding programme has been embezzled is it a child or a parent?” She asked an attentive church as one lady shouted from the last row “Amen”. Just after the Amen the sleeping gentleman shot up from his slumber and went straight to the pulpit his feet a little shaky though was helped by able ushers who guaranteed his steadiness.
Stagger…
“I am sorry for interrupting this church’s programme” he said in an eloquent, accented deep voice yet frail frame. The usher handed him a microphone. At this time the reverend was kind enough to allow the gentleman say what he needed to say.
“How many people know me?” he asked the congregation which saw some hands slowly raised.
“I have a problem that today I want to share with you good people of God” he quipped as the congregants fidgeted uncomfortably on their seats.
“I usually come to church to find peace, the peace that humankind finds in the presence of God, it is that peace that once I sit down I fall asleep because at home there is too much noise”. He hesitated then carried on… “Too much battery that makes it a living hell in its true sense, peace escaped our home ever since I married her” He expounded with finality as tears lingered his dry eyes.
“My wife whips me and the children that I had to take our children to village to avoid seeing them clobbered by their own mother while I helplessly looked on. I need your help church” he said in a shaky voice.
“We shall help you kindly sit, we shall follow up after the sermon” said the reverend.
The reverend took another 15 minutes upon which she concluded her sermon; we sought for our son who was still playing with other children.
The usual daddy buy me this, mummy buy me that filled our eardrums from Ricky’s demands as we walked to the church administrator who ushered us in asking whether Angie was an aunt.
“No she is my wife” I replied. “What of this other one?” the slender though sharply dressed man asked with a smile.
“She is too” I replied as I sat.
“We would like to register our children for next month’s baptism session, we want the twins baptized” I reclined on my chair holding baby Briana tightly in my arms while Brian was fast asleep on the mother’s lap.
He put on his glasses which precariously balanced on his nose though his eyes could still peer through the upper part of the frame.
“What is your registration number?” he asked while looking at his computer.
“30662” I replied.
“You are married to Nicole and you both have a son called Ricky” he replied with a stern voice.
“Yes Sir I agree, I am also blessed with these twins who are also my children” I retorted
“Could I have their names and the mother’s name so that we can fix a meeting with the deacon to clearly understand this matter?” he said as he stood as if guiding as out of the door.
He looked quite angry that I am a polygamous man not by choice but love.
I wrote Angie’s name down in a register written “BAPTISM REGISTER”. After completion I was instantly met with a rather ridiculous frown from this slender man.
We bid farewell to bespectacled guy and left.
“Why was he weird?” Nicole asked as Angie heaved a sigh of relief.
“Let talk about this at home or somewhere else” I answered.
Kenneth Jura 