The Confession

[APPEARED IN THE MALAWI NEWS OF 8 JULY 2012]

That Sunday for the first time the Holy Trinity Church was packed to the brim. It was a sizzling day and the inside of the church was equally scorching hot, and humid. But this day the worshippers never minded the torturous state. They were all dressed to kill as if in some pageant. Trendy outfits outdid each other. But they were devoted worshippers gathered in the blistering room for their attire not to outshine each other but were there to mutually seek the face of God. During other worshipping days the church would be electric filled when the people sought God’s face, but the way things were that Sunday many would confess tangibly feeling the Holy Spirit moving inside. The songs and choruses were the sweetest this Sunday, even their prayers the most fervent ever. Men and women beat chests that day amidst crying and shouting. They were supplications done with some of them kneeling down, others prostrating, and some rolling on the floor not minding their immaculate dressing.  

                             

But one person minded his immaculate dressing. He was Apostle Reverend Doctor Mauro, the senior resident pastor of the church, sitting trimly on his cushioned chair. He was in a fashionable navy blue three-piece suit his flock claimed was bought in the United States of America when he was attaining a Doctorate Degree in Eco-Theology and Faith Theory, although some queried the authenticity of his doctorate credentials for they claimed he only stayed in the USA for less than four months. The suit was matched with a classy white pointer shoe and a white tie, and chicly curled panky hairdo. Mauro had tried to outdo everybody particularly when it came to style in the church. Be it in dressing, singing, preaching, talking even laughing, Reverend Mauro put a deliberate effort to outwit everyone. It was a habit that capped an ‘I’m-holier-than-art-thou’ attitude he had, because to Mauro being the pastor he self-importantly believed he was above everyone in holiness.

Nevertheless, by the look of things what appeared to betray his touch of style was his gruff voice which many felt would make him a good politician, an outstanding regional governor in particular. And by all indications Mauro hated his voice. However, the throaty voice complemented the air of seriousness he carried about church dealings that added more to his puffed-up and tasteful attitudes. And he made sure that both the old and the young in the church understood that church business was no joking matter.

It was no surprise therefore that he had stood up with this usual seriousness and self-righteousness when it was time to preach, but this day with a feeling that something special would happen taking into consideration the particularity of the day. He felt it could be in a testimony or a confession or anything, but he felt it was there. And Mauro preached that day in a way never seen before, vomiting many experiences, including a now exhausted episode about a bomb he pronounced ‘bum’ that was planted in a church, which failed to explode because of God’s hand. The preaching was mostly in slang he now regularly used since his return from the USA, in which ‘amen’ sounded ‘amen-aa’ and ‘God’, ‘God-aa’, and words like ‘damn’ and ‘bullshit’ he would remorseless mention as if saying ‘cassava’ and ‘sugar’.

And when he finally stopped after some two hours of powerful preaching the church was on fire and many, for different reasons, rushed forward to be prayed for. One such person was six-year-old Matthews who had followed a neighbor to the church. At first people thought he was in front following a parent or a guardian. But one church elder discovered that he was alone and had tried to send him back without success after hearing that he was there to confess, fearing reprisals from Mauro to the young boy. The elder had hurried and informed Mauro about the –six-year-old. Had it been it were the other Sundays Mauro would with annoyance have thrown the little chap out of church. But to the church elder’s surprise Mauro gave 100% consent feeling impelled that Matthews’s confession was that special occurrence he had felt earlier. A deacon sitting to his immediate right had tried to protest his doubt about the seriousness of the little boy but Mauro had dismissed him with a ‘you-go-hang-for-for-the-Holy Spirit-revealed-this-special-occurrence-to-me’ glance. With sincerity Matthews then faced a dead silent church, pregnant with anticipation after Mauro announced that there was a special case of confession.  

“I want God to forgive me for a sin I committed,” Matthews stated innocently, “I stole seven cattle last week.” Even the doubting church deacon could not help it but shift in his chair and poised his ears to get it all as Mauro looked at him with an ‘I-told-you’ gaze. The church for a moment became even quieter being awash with buzzes of comments of disbelief: a six-year-old boy managing to steal seven cattle? That was nothing but juju. Many concluded.

But Matthews said nothing more. That prompted Mauro to ask him the now obvious thing all wanted to ask: how actually he managed that?

“My friend moulded and left them on a rock to dry where I stole them.” he said harmlessly.

It was the usual serious Reverend Mauro who first let out a ‘Buhahahahahaa’ fit of hitches, with the whole church following.