Dear Diary,
It’s amazing the memories that come pouring into one’s brain when confronted with certain situations. My situation right now is being embroiled in a tussle between my colleague and her church pastor who impregnated her and is hell-bound on denying it.
Pun intended — haha! As we sit in his office, trying to come up with a solution to a plight that has only one proper answer, I begin to realise that while he might think he has game, he has nothing on some of his counterparts. What then comes to mind is the story of another pastor, a leader of a religious flock much like Mr Pontius before me.
While pastor Pontius seems to do his thing on the downlow, this particular man of God doesn’t care to hide his modus operandi. You can tell that the story shocked me because I can’t remember the pastor’s name. And I’m a doctor. Remembering names is as important in our profession as remembering to write down the correct dose for pain killers.
This pastor, who has all the swag of a pimp, arrives to his church with more fanfare than MC Hammer before he went broke. As soon as he gets to the gate, all the women in church rush out to meet him. And I mean, rush like the church suddenly caught on fire.
Married, single, young, old… they all queue up on either side of the path and remove their tops, baring their naked breasts to the passing pastor. The pastor would walk between the rows in a manner reminiscent of a President inspecting a guard of honour. Only instead of marching between a row of soldiers, he spreads out his hands and touches the women’s bare bosoms. They giggle and swoon, some almost fainting as the pastor ‘bestows’ blessings upon them.
The first thought that came to mind as I watched that clip was, ‘Damn! This dude has game!’ Do you know how much game a man has to have so that a married woman will ignore her husband and get naked for him? What I wouldn’t give to have women line up so I can touch them for whatever reason.
I don’t even need a whole church-full of them. If I walked into a room and three women took their tops off, I’d be absolutely sure I’ve died and gone to heaven. Hell! If Shirley, the one woman I crave with all my heart but who won’t see me as anything but a mere friend, shows me a bra strap, I would nearly fall into a faint.
Right after my heart went out to the poor slobs married to these church-loving women willing to do anything possible to have their prayers answered, I began wondering whether I haven’t been playing the game wrong all this time. I’m like a magician without a gimmick, trying to pull a rabbit out of a regular Gikomba hat.
Don’t get me wrong. For all intents and purposes, it is a sad situation when people in the position of authority take advantage of the vulnerable masses under their care. But I don’t see any politician rushing to legislate these fake churches. As a doctor, I will lose my licence if I hit on a current patient. Same thing with a teacher and his or her students. Or a boss and his secretary. Yeah, that’s wrong, too, no matter what they’ll have you think.
In the same vein, I don’t think Pontius should be able to deny impregnating my colleague. Neither should any pastor be making soft porn with his congregation.
