Today I wanted to go to church but there was nobody to accompany me. Nya Seme had not called for the past few days, neither had Kanini. So I decided to make up my mind. Twenty minutes later, I was still making up my mind on the sofa, trying to keep my eyes wide. I did not want to go to dreamland because it vexes me to have visions about how Nabii Msa was leading us all in to one thick ball of fire.
It was only after I sent the cup crashing to the ground with some masala tea that I discovered I had been defeated so I gave up. Before long, I saw a whole congregation trooping like shepherded sheep into the sanctuary – mostly women in all kinds of attires, some in handkerchiefs tied round their waists with tight fittings following the contour of their thighs, legs to the ankles. Others, however, were quite honourable with long marindas and headscarves, just like my mother back in the day. There were a few men trudging along
