Storymoja

Celebrating East African Writing!

On a Fine Sunday Morning…by Mercy Ojwang’

WELCOME TO GOD’S TABERNACLE CHURCH OF SAINTS
SUNDAY SERVICE: 10.00 A.M.
FELLOWSHIP: FROM 2.00 P.M.
PRAYER SERVICES: TUESDAYS AND FRIDAYS FROM 6.00 P.M.

Around 11.30 a.m, Sunday:
“I know He’s coming again…”Sooomeeedayyy, soometiiiime, IN THE END! Everybody put your hands together for Jesus. He is coming soon! Sing with me: I know He’s coming again…”

The song rose to a fevered pitch. Everybody was dancing and jumping, caught up in the fervor. Sweat trickled down each face and was immediately mopped up with an already soaked cloth. “Halleluyah to Jesus,” they sang. I put my hands up, motioning for the congregation to sit down.

“Dearly beloved we are gathered here to PRAISE HIM! He is holy and worthy; the one true God. We thank Him for the gift of life!”

There were cries of “Amen” and “Glory” from the congregation. I raised my hands again for silence.

“Right now I would like to welcome the Right Reverend, His Holiness David Chamge.”

Congregation rose to its feet, stomping and shouting, as the Reverend made his way to the pulpit. A man of God. Oh, how he was loved by all.

Somewhere around 1.30 p.m, Tuesday:
I walked into the offices of the Right Reverend, His Holiness David Chamge. The Reverend had been my mentor for many years ever since my wayward teenage days. He befriended me when no one else wanted to, and even helped me get back on track with my education and school. Now that I was almost graduating, I wanted to join his ministry and help him spread the Gospel as a missionary. With Becky.

Becky was the love of my life. She also had been there for me through thick and thin. I loved her and wanted to marry her soon. We had talked of nothing else the last few months.

The Reverend received me heartily and ushered me into his office. We sat down and chitchatted a bit about this and that, then

“Pastor, I love Becky and want to propose to her.”
“Becky? Wow. Are you serious?”
“Of course I am serious. I thought you knew the extent of my feelings for her.”
“Well, yes, but are you sure? She is a lovely lady, don’t get me wrong, but she did not strike me as wife material, at least not for you. She has always been a tad bit… free, if you know what I mean.”

2.16 p.m., walking home:
I didn’t know what he meant by that. Free? My Becky? What did he exactly mean? I reached for my house keys, but before I could open the door, it swung open.

“Hi baby,” Becky said, and reached out to hug me.

“Hi,” I responded warily.

Becky had cooked me a late lunch. The food tasted like chalk. I was too preoccupied to notice that Becky was hovering nervously around me.

“Steve, I’m pregnant.”

His words flooded my mind. “…a bit free, if you know what I mean.”

“WHAT DO YOU MEAN PREGNANT?!!!” I yelled. “WHOSE?!!!”

“What do you mean whose? I can’t believe you’d dare ask that question! And as for what I mean by pregnant, I have your child growing inside of me.”

“But we have never… Oh God we have!”

In a moment of weakness, we had done It. Becky had come over wearing some really nice looking shorts and we were fooling around. One thing led to another and here we are today.

“Are you sure that I am the father? Because, from what I hear, you are quite the popular girl!” The words escaped my mouth.

“You bastard!” Becky retaliated, anger creasing her face.

Same day 9.45 p.m:
“Hi Becky, it is Steve. Please call me and at least let me know you are home safe. I’m sorry. Please disregard my previous messages. Baby, I love you and we can work this out.”

10.22 p.m:
“Becky I am really worried about you. You don’t have to talk to me just let me know that you are safe. SMS me, please.”

11.54 p.m:
“I love you and I am truly sorry.”

09.00 a.m, Wednesday:

I walked into the offices of the Right Reverend, His Holiness David Chamge. I had a load on my shoulders that I needed to unburden and I didn’t know who else to turn to.

“Pastor, I need to talk to you,” I said.
“Come on in Steve. You look haggard,” replied Rev.
“Yesterday, Becky and I had a fight. I don’t know what to do. I cannot reach her; she refuses to reply to any of my messages. I have no idea where she is. I am going mad with worry.” I stuttered.
“Steve, these things are normal. You just have to give her time to relax. You know how temperamental women are. By the way, I hope it wasn’t because of what I told you yesterday. It was confidential, you know.”
“Pastor, Becky is pregnant.”

“Pregnant? Becky? What do you mean? Oh no! Whose is it?”
“Well there was this one time we…”
“Don’t tell me there is a possibility that you are the father!”

I hung my head in shame. What else could I say in the face of such an accusation?

10.43 a.m:
“Please call me. Thank you.” Finally some communication from Becky! I hurriedly dialed her number and began speaking almost before she could answer her phone.

“Hi Becky where are you? I am so sorry about yesterday. I was just in shock and so much had happened that day. I can’t…”

“I am on my way to your place now,” were her only chilled words before she hung up.

05.30 p.m, Thursday:
My life was a mess. Becky was still not talking to me. All she did was pick up her keys and a few personal items. No amount of pleading, begging or cajoling from me would make her even glance my way.
I had done it. It was official. I had ruined the best thing I had going on for me. And all for what?
I decided to seek solace from my Creator. He could fix my problems.

06.39 p.m:
Nothing. I felt nothing. Emptiness filled my every crevice. I had wept and cried to God, hoping that I would have answers there and then. My guess: I would have to wait a little more.
As I stood in the church courtyard mingling with fellow worshippers, I couldn’t help but overhear a conversation between two elders of the church, Mrs. Wanyoike and Rahab Wambui.
“I couldn’t believe it when my sister told me that he was the father!” said Mrs. Wanyoike.
“How can she be sure? I mean, I really don’t believe that he is capable of that!”
“She swears that it is him… she has never lied to me as far as I know…”

I couldn’t listen in anymore. What I had heard was enough.

09.36 p.m, at home:
Doubts began to fill my mind. Surely could all this be real?

10.00 a.m, Friday:
I picked up my phone and sent a really long message to Becky. “Dear Becky, I really would like to see you and explain some things. I am sorry again for what happened on Tuesday. I believe that you are carrying my child and that you have never done anything to compromise our relationship. Please forgive me. I believe I have some news that may be of interest to you and also kind of explain, though not excuse my behavior.”

She replied, “Ok. I will come over to your place in an hour.”

Great! At least we were making progress.

11.06 a.m:
Our greetings at the door were awkward. I reached out to hug her; she stretched out her hand to greet me. She took a seat and looked at me. I explained to her all that had transpired since Thursday as I paced up and down the sitting room.
Becky begun to speak. “I can see why he would call me loose. He approached me asking for sexual favors three times, and three times I rejected him. I could not confide in you because you trusted him so much.”

Around 11.30 a.m., Sunday:
“I know He’s coming again…”Sooomeeedayyy, soometiiiime, IN THE END!”Everybody put your hands together for Jesus. He is coming soon! Sing with me: I know He’s coming again…”

The song rose to a fevered pitch. Everybody was dancing and jumping, caught up in the fervor. Sweat tricked down each face and was immediately mopped up with an already soaked cloth. “Halleluyah to Jesus,” they sang. I put my hands up, motioning for the congregation to sit down.

“Dearly beloved we are gathered here to PRAISE HIM! He is holy and worthy; the one true God. We thank Him for the gift of life!”

There were cries of “Amen” and “Glory” from the congregation. I raised my hands again for silence.

“Right now I would like to welcome the Right Reverend, His Holiness David Chamge.”

Congregation rose to its feet, stomping and shouting, as the Reverend made his way to the pulpit. A man of God. Oh, how he was loved by all.

“But before he comes up, I would like to welcome Teresia back. She is the proud mother of a bouncing baby boy called Emmanuel. Teresia, why don’t you come up here we pray together?”

Teresia was Mrs. Wanyoike’s sister. As she made her way up to the pulpit, I called up several other members of the congregation onto the pulpit.

I began to speak. “See all this people are God’s children. They are His dedicated servants who would do anything for His ministry. But when one of us takes advantage of these innocent lambs, it becomes a sin. Is that not right, Reverend?” I asked turning to face him.

“You are Teresia’s baby’s father, aren’t you?”
“Why… that’s preposterous! How dare you accuse me of something so unholy?”
“See, church,” I continued as if I had not been interrupted. “The Reverend has been soliciting for favors from all these people. He even tried to sleep with my Becky. Should any of then refuse, they somehow ‘fall from favor’ and are no longer valued members of this church.”
You could have heard a pin drop. The tension was palpable. The Reverend looked like he was about to go into cardiac arrest. Try as he might, no words left his mouth.
© Mercy Ojwang’ 2009

If you would like this piece to be the Story of the Week, please vote below on a scale of 1 to 10, with 1 being weak, and 10 being excellent. The numbers will be tallied on Friday and the story with the highest figure shall be Crowned Story of the Week. Be sure to fill in your name and verifiable email. You can include your critique/comment after the vote.

6 comments on “On a Fine Sunday Morning…by Mercy Ojwang’

  1. SaHaRa
    September 7, 2009

    The reverend was ‘cumming’ alright. Lol. Sorry Merce, I couldn’t help it but make this silly joke. Lovely narratives. I give it an 8.

  2. Prisca Ojwang'
    September 7, 2009

    awesomeness…i like the flash back use! i vote 9.5!

  3. Juliana Adhiambo
    September 8, 2009

    quite catching and flowwing extremely well… keep it up love, you’ve always been a spectacular writer, i see you taking after your Dad. I vote 9.8!

  4. Nyasili
    September 8, 2009

    Why? Mercy, I give it NINE.FIVE. What with the suspense? The superb story line? The creative intro and end. It has whetted my appetite. The more reason I say it is a 9.Five. Good Times!

  5. Raymond Bett
    September 12, 2009

    This is a well written story. I loved the division to various time frames and the twist at the end just captured the moment. Keep it up Mercy, I give it an 8.

  6. Everlyne Ndung'u
    September 25, 2009

    What a captivating story.Who would have thought.Gal i give you 9 u r awesome

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s

Follow

Get every new post delivered to your Inbox.

Join 17,843 other followers

%d bloggers like this: