There was this one eyed guy who would buy several loaves of bread at wholesale price at our local Reru Market and transport them, on his bicycle, to Akado Market. Odero together with his accomplice, George, one day grabbed several loaves of bread from this speeding one eyed cyclist and fled to the nearby bush in my full glare. They ate all the bread together with Ouma Ogwang’ without sparing even a piece for me. That made me report them both to Nyaguti, my mom and Agneta, Odero’s mom. They received a well deserved cane treatment on their sinful behinds. These were the big sinners who only salvation would help – not me. Another guy who was a big sinner but had luckily repented and joined the fold was George Ocholla. This is the guy who dug Miloma’s feet and ran away from Ochok Primary, never to be seen. When he came back to the village, after close to three years, he was so innocent to an extent that no one would believe that he was the Jembe guy. He had seen the light.
I had made a decision that by no means would I be saved in form one; not until I inject some Luhya lady with the seed of my loins. How could I make a mistake of getting saved while there were so many things to enjoy far away from my parents? Emman Omindo, who was then in Ngere High, had earlier told me that ladies would run after me like termites when I join high school. I surely wanted to observe the scenario on my return to the village and therefore I couldn’t just follow my cousin, Luke, blindly. Another reason why I couldn’t see the light was that I had not tuned one Beatrice Oriyo into my agweng’ box. Agweng’ is a village lover. She was the third daughter to the third wife of Mzee Oriyo, our village neighbour. We used to play kalongolongo together when I was still in class four. Kalongolongo game was a mimic of African traditional family where there is a father, mother and several children. When we started playing this game, I was always the child whom would be sent to bed early because “baba na mama” wanted to do some serious stuff. When Beatrice came into the scene, I was then old enough to be a ‘baba’ and Beatrice a ‘mama’. The “house” was a bush nearby. Those days I was very innocent and I didn’t know that ‘mama’ had some inbuilt honey tap at the junction. She was my class mate throughout my schooling in Ochok. I was convinced that we had some unfininshed business. Beatrice enjoyed my stupid jokes but somehow, Karen’s beauty managed to distract me from her.
That same weekend, at Maturu, Wycliffe Luvanda prayed so loudly, at dawn, to an extent that I could nolonger catch some more sleep. He was in the power room casting out demons from the unsaved people and claiming their souls to Christ. Power room was not a term related to electricity as there was no electric power in Maturu then; this was a term synonymous to a place of serious prayers. When Luvanda deliberately woke us up, I decided to go for a lone bath. The bathroom was on the right but being a confused form one that I was, I made a left turn. I can’t explain how I landed in the so called power house where Luvanda, the CU chairman and his secretary, Baraza were speaking to God in a language which was neither Luhya nor Swahili. I had something like “Kami memuji Anda Yesus. Anda adalah Tuhan kemuliaan” (We praise you Jesus. You are the Lord of Glory). I said to myself “now that I’ve landed here, with my basin full of water and towel, let me just close my eyes until these guys say amen”. I waited for that “amen” for almost one hour yet I did not have the courage to move my legs – they were just too heavy. When they finally shouted “amen”, Luvanda beckoned Baraza to go over and summarize with a prayer, then he asked me to join them. “Brother, what’s your name and when were you saved?” inquired Luvanda. I asked myself why Luvanda was referring to me as “brother” while I was not a catholic eunuch. “I’m not saved and I’m not interested for now” I responded. Little did I know that Luvanda had all the time on earth to speak to me about the dreaded topic of salvation. That guy took his time and the way he knew how to describe hell and Satan… After much punching of holes into my confirmation class beliefs and telling me so much of the love of God that made Him send His only begotten Son, I decided to say “Yes” to Jesus and immediately became a child of God.
The powerful prayer by Luvanda was surely manifested by the numerous drops of saliva emanating from his shouting tongue, landing into my sinful forehead and trickling down to join the tears on my pathetic cheeks. I was born again after repeating a short prayer led by the man of God. The feeling of salvation was just perfect!! I was so excited and I knew I would jump into heaven any minute. Without hesitation, I was transferred from the sinners’ dormitory to the overcrowded salvation dorm. If anybody deserved to go to heaven – it was Luvanda. From that day, I stopped winking at the form one ladies and I concentrated in class and Bible Study. On the other part of the world, Alwala Secondary in Kisumu Rural, my other cousin Oscar Nyalenge, was also getting saved. Oscar was a man who had presumably more demons than I had. By the time he was in class eight, his head was already saturated with bang coupled with traditional alcohol and a lot of other stuff that I cannot speak of without his express permission. He was a bad boy ab initio- thank God for remembering him.
Luvanda told me about very many good things but, maybe, he forgot to inform me that I would also be persecuted for the move. I wrote letters to everybody who knew me informing them of the new development. The happiest person was my sister Gorety who was in her final year in Nyakongo Girls. The saddest one was my dad who claimed that instead of concentrating in books I went to join other religions. Dad had earlier canned my elder sister, Grace Akinyi, until she said “I quit Jesus and I will never be saved again” The only people I did not write to were Karen Agola and Beatrice Oriyo – I had to tell them face to face that I was saved up to my apparatus. Whoever is saved up to his apparatus is saved indeed.
By the close of the first term, I had not even used ten percent of my pocket money. Luke on the other hand had used utterly nothing but our parents still sent us some more cash for transport. We traveled in full school uniform to Mamboleo. Dad, in his usual manner insisted that we listen to BBC English Radio just to make sure that we could understand those twangs. After a few days, we decided to travel back to the village, again, in full school uniforms. The villagers had to notice our long awaited arrival from afar off High School. Immediately, our enterprising minds led us into buying some domestic animals. I bought two female sheep while Luke went for two female goats. We wouldn’t buy male ones because they were all over in the grazing ground – furthermore they were all not born again and that’s why they had the courage to make love with the new ladies we had brought to the fold. Buying animals had serious consequences on the pocket money for the following term.
I was informed that my dad had turned himself into a carnivore as soon as I left for High School. He used to say “nyathi otenga ok cham alot” (The young one of a hawk does not eat herbs). Every time he came home, from Mamboleo, he would declare war with one of my cockerels. He was a mass cockerel eater! My two chickens had produced so many descendants, in less than two years to an extent that dad had to do some “pruning” on them. “Thuondi ariyo ok kok e dala” (Two cocks cannot crow in the homestead), he said. What he meant was that he can’t share a home with his fellow active polygamous men hence he had to eat the male chicken leaving all the ladies for his cock. In the Luo culture, the active cock should belong to the head of the homestead as a cock was a representation of authority. In short, my dad was jealous that my cocks had more wives that he had. (I have said the word “cock” several times until it is almost acquiring another meaning). So he used to eat my cocks.
After
I had bought my two sheep, George my brother was also reminded that he
needed to buy something “which calls his name” so he bought an senior
sheep. I’m saying ‘senior’ because his sheep was very old – I think it
had passed menopause. That thing used to walk as if any little wind
would make it fly away. Its behind was so pointed, a fact that proved
that it had lived to see many descendants. One day when he came back from Mamboleo to check on what “calls his name”, he found nothing. The sheep had already been eaten by our carnivorous dad together with his guests, without his knowledge. When he questioned, he was told “gimoro amora ma wuotho ka donjo kata wuok ei abila man e dalana en mara” (Anything that walks into or out of a farm house that is in my compound is mine). That was the last time George ever brought an animal into the homestead as he swore never to make that mistake again.
It was then testimony time and I had to tell everybody about Jesus. I also had to ask for forgiveness from both my dad and mom for the sins I had committed against them. I forgave mom for letting me down when she left me to be brought up by other women at a very tender age when I still needed motherly love. Dad asked me to be an obedient child, like my sister Grace, and leave this "stupid salvation thing". “You’ll have a lot of time to be saved when you’re through with schooling but now please concentrate in class” he said angrily. This mzee surely did not know the ugly plans I had which would have messed my life even more.
The next day, my cousin Oscar Nyalenge and I went to preach to Mzee Osore, Karen’s dad, and later to Beatrice Oriyo. As soon as we arrived Osore asked “Do you want a glass of water?” I just smiled and went direct to our testimonies but he was still looking at me suspiciously even after talking for close to five minutes. Later when we had broken ground, some tea was served and I opened my big mouth “Mzee do you remember when you almost killed me with water?” What followed was not very palatable and I better bury it with history. We then set to Beatrice’s home where we were welcomed very well. I grabbed a file from my bag which contained salvation materials from ‘In Touch Kenya’ with Oscar removing his small pocket bible. We took time to go through God’s word and at the end of the day Beatrice became a child of God by faith.
“To convert somebody, go and take them by the hand and guide them.” St. Thomas Aquinas
Yours in Christ,
Migingo Awat
I acknowledge the following audiences in order of clicks:
1. USA
2. Kenya
3. Uganda
4. France
5. UK
6. Oman
7. Switzerland
8. Germany
9. Somalia
10. U.A.E and the list continues.
Thanking you all for your continued support. The journey has just began! Please invite your friends and do not forget to leave a comment.
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