Persona Non Grata at Church


24 hours prior to the New Year, I was lounging infront of the tele. Douglas of record TV was hosting a bunch of “never seen or heard before” kids whose musical background ends at some God forsaken studio. I muted the sound to save my ears from their unrealistic conversation mbu Bebe Cool should charge the same amount of money like P Square or Movado because according to them, he can pull the same numbers for a show, yeah right! I snorted.

Anyways that was the least of my worries since I had a real problem at hand to deal with; finding plot that will get me through to a fresh year i.e not from home. Brokenness had successfully denied me anything money related so my options narrowed down to free entry places. Church was number one on that list followed by house parties; I settled for church given the distance of the venue and company; Kololo was the perfect place to enjoy the battle of fireworks across the city skyline. Before you judge me for having the lousiest reasons to attend church, read the story of the prodigal son in the holly book.

The last church I stepped foot in was Namirembe Cathedral, they still have church pews, sing and provide hymnals, the choir dresses like a church choir; the priest represents the true image of what we call “man of the cloth” and the pulpit still has the King James version of the bible waiting to be read during the sermon. That was quite some time back, obviously nothing stays the same so I expected a few changes however, what I witnessed was a total overhaul of what used to be church.

At the entrance security was tight, you’d think these believers did not trust God to take care of them. I know the airstrip like the back of my hand but truth be told, I have never been in it, not during the famous Uganda at 50, not even during the MTN K’la marathon, I just watched that shit on TV. This was my first time at the airstrip and my aim was to seat at the pavilion for better view. I got passed the security and headed straight to my intended seating position only to be stopped by a brother in an ill fitting suit (no beef, the suit was oversized for real) his face was a mixture of serious and confusion; when he asked me for a VIP pass, for a second I thought he was speaking in tongues, it was my turn to look serious and confused! VIP?  My eyes quickly scanned some of the so called VIPs who turned out to be human and damn regular like me; so what nonsense was this brother John blubbering? I asked the Holy Spirit to shed some more light on him coz clearly he wasn’t seeing things brightly. I walked to join the personas non grata.

It was so shocking that I had to take a moment and Facebook about it. A friend came to my rescue, pulled a few strings that translated to me accessing and experiencing the VIP section. I was right about the view, it was perfect. From then on, it was praise song after praise song and non that I was lyrically familiar with; I focused my eyes on God’s creations dancing with energy that would beat your Gangnam or Bend Over styles hands down. These guys when taken over by the Holy Ghost dance with chairs in the air, oba what style is that?

When the pastor finally started TALKING (not preaching), I call it talking because it all sounded like sales man chatter, he went on and on about prosperity, wealth etc and nothing like a real sermon, dude didn’t even have a bible in the hand you’d think he’s one of those Bwats who passed exams through cram-work. All the while, white envelopes were being passed around, I didn’t pay much attention to them, thought it was another attempt to make me look like an outcast, coz they didn’t hand me one. Time for tithing and church collection that’s when it hit me! The bu-envelopes were for tithing. We spent close to 30 minutes in the name of tithing and church collections, the pastor made sure all avenues were exhausted fully and no stone was left unturned.

The moment we were all waiting for started from a distance with brilliant colors illuminating the skies, it must have caught the pastor by surprise because no one counted the final minutes of 2012, all we heard were fireworks. I said a silent prayer to thank God for all that’s been and all that will be and also put in a sweet word for you my buddies  though I generalized to make the list short (not even speaking in tongues can compress the names of 106 friends). However, I have a feeling the Kololo saga won’t be repeated in the near future, I would rather go the traditional way or stay home period!
Location: Kampala, Uganda

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