Introducing Nabii Msa

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
as if they had been pulled out of the houses or threatened with something horrible.  I was there alright, but I had to be the last to enter so that I salvage my honour of being Chief.

Let me spare you the details, but I always wonder which languages some people pray in; strange tongues, but I have no idea what they mean. I tried once and when I slightly opened my left eye, I saw my Rightwing Youth Leader, Shikwekwe looking at me in surprised disdain.

“Thy Kingdom come,
Thy will be done on earth,
As it is in heaven,
...
Aaimen!”
Nabii Msa is our beloved Bishop. When he prays wonders happen, sometimes. Like today, everybody had turned up for his meeting, a very rare feat given that sanctuaries are barely full nowadays. I, Chief Maneno, was also present. He always laments that we have lost our way and sold our souls to the world, and some of us to the devil. But there was a difference in the way he preached when I was around compared to when I wasn’t.

Whenever I watch him on TV, he has this gusto, a kind of conviction and holiness that imbues the feeling that he is directly sent from The Sky. He is, however, more careful with his words whenever I am around. I have heard from people that he throws around blackmail here and there against me. Ok, I have no time for gossipers, but Nabii Msa is a very strange man. I have no reason to be scared too, because it is only the Middle Ages Popes that led people to war against regimes established by The Creator Himself. We, I mean those of us in government, and all its arms have embraced this philosophy, “hear no evil, see no evil,” in that order. We all sit at a precarious position and if the polloi were to mount an insurrection, we would be fried like little ducks...not that I fear anything. Darwinism makes sense sometimes, we just have to survive. Anyway, enough of the philosophy lessons...

Nabii Msa is also a shrewd man. He prefers peace, and the only way to achieve that peace is to approach every issue that comes up in a ‘sober’ way. I love it whenever he declares that the church will never take sides on matters that can throw The Fiefdom into chaos.
“Just do what you believe is right,” he usually tells the congregation. “Every man has a right to decide, and every person should respect that right.”

Such statements usually throw my detractors offtrack, you know those fellas that make noise about me appointing every other jukebox in my village to enviable positions? I even laughed when my cousin appointed himself to a very powerful project committee and sent a memo to all public offices, not because I couldn’t appoint him but because I just forgot he was around and needed a job. I have a few in-laws, brothers, and sisters heading some projects in the village. It’s all about development.

When I asked Nabii Msa whether I should disband the Village Bush Clearing Committee since there were no more bushes to clear, he just shrugged and chortled. “Well, why can’t we plant more bushes around, flowery bushes they can take care of. You know what I mean?” No wonder my protocol officer insists on Nabii Msa praying at all my official functions.

I only have one problem with the Bishop though. I have been trying to make sure The Chiefdom is free of that sexual disease...but whenever my ministers talk about condoms, he shoots daggers and a few canisters. He does not even want to hear us talking about reducing the size of brood we have in our households despite the fact that our maternal facilities are quite overstretched.  “How shall we feed them, the brood I mean?” I always wonder.

Nabii Msa is always preaching about keeping the commandment. “Fill the earth,” he declares in his booming voice. “What if you were ‘planned’ yourself? Would you be here?” He makes us all feel guilty. “Whether a sperm or a foetus, that is life you are destroying!!” Now he sounds credulous. Sometimes I feel he should be shot...but I fear repercussions from The Sky. I am a believer, you know. But if only he knew how families are struggling, according to my government’s statistics, he would change his stance. Maybe I should talk to him sometimes...in the near future. I would also be talking about him a lot, he is integral in our community, him and his followers.

Do not get lost here please, because this government of ours is self-imposed as denoted in one of our earlier briefs. Well, everyone knows that I am the Chief but nobody can tell me to the other government. It is because everyone else hates the other government, the bigger one. We have lived in fantasy for a very long time, hoping that it would dawn out of this long night one day. But, damn, the dark night has been so long. That is why I decided to be writing while waiting for the new dawn. Then the idea of a parallel government came about; some kind of a charitable organization. But as you have read a few lines above there, we are not as charitable as we would like to be...its only because we are all human. That is why we need Nabii Msa to be praying for us - I mean, with us.

I shook my head and peered through my eye lashes. ‘What the hell you talking about? I sear you must see the doctor,’ Nya Seme was standing right there, with that look that told that I have gone mad again. She looked at the pieces of my once favorite cup that had a painting of Lord Bendtner. His left foot was broken, and his neck was cracked. I pitied him, and Nya Seme too.