Timbuktu Express: Career in limbo as Size 8 turns down my gospel ‘collabo’ offer

Kenya:  Praise the Lord! Effective today, I have decided to stop wrestling with the divine spirit of the Lord. When I was young,  I frustrated the Sunday school teacher, (may the Lord bless the soul of Sister Margaret) till she referred to me as Pepo Muchafu in a fit of anger.

I have been saved. My days as a pest are over, and I might even break my bad luck and make some money in the process of spreading the gospel.

But my long battle with the Lord is over as I have seen the light, and there is simply no going back. I met Jesus while heading home after a drinking spree at Mama Fatuma’s. The lady serves the best changaa in East and Central Africa, and the best thing is that only I, and a handful of my friends know about it.

I staggered out of her den humming a freedom song when the son of man appeared in front of me. I mean, I did not see Him coming and was surprised that somebody was blocking my way.  I immediately clutched at my pocket where my phone stays to protect it thinking it was a thief.

 “Timbuktu!” he called. “Why do you persecute me?” he asked, peering at my face with his blue eyes.  “I want you to mend your ways,” he told me and disappeared in a puff of smoke.

I was dumbstruck and bamboozled and did not know what to believe. What was a drunk man to do after such an encounter. I  ran as fast as I could back to Mama Fatuma’s den thinking  I had met a ghost.

When I got there, most of the other customers had left save for a convict who had just been released from Kamiti and a few other drunks. “Open up quick!” I shouted while knocking on the door with both fists.

Mama Fatuma declared that she had closed shop unless I wanted changaa take away. “Your head is too small for changaa. You had better stick to Novida and Alvaro,” she said as she opened.

I stumbled into the house panting and unable to speak. She offered me half a glass to restore my voice, but I refused. That is when they took me seriously.

I started at the beginning and by the time I got to the part when the Lord vanished, the Kamiti man laughed so hard that he must have cracked a rib.

“You want to say Jesus amepigia Prophet Owuor akapata ni mteja?” he wanted to know. Some other fools mentioned Pastor Muiru, Bishop Kiuna and a host of other holy men and women, and declared there was no way Jesus could have ignored all of them for me.

“ Ye of little faith!” I rebuked them. “I have been anointed and you haters can do nothing about it,” I warned them.

I stormed out of the place having changed my tune to Mateke, Kapungala and Lingala ya Yesu when an idea hit me.

Why not sing praises for the Lord as a career? I wondered to myself. At that time my stupor had diminished for me to sufficiently feel sober. I know it is a miracle, but what did you expect. Hey! I just encountered the man who made merry at the wedding in Caana of Galilee. You expect miracles to fly.

I went to my place and told Michelle that things would change.

“ What do you mean?” she asked. I explained to her that I had been reborn and that I would be not doing most of the things that make us quarrel all the time. “No more smoking, drinking partying, etc, etc…

“ Sounds to me like you will be a very boring husband,” she said.

“Ooh no Michelle!” I said to her. “It will be quite exciting because I will be a celeb gospel artiste like Papa Fololo. Wouldn’t you like that, baby?” I asked her.

She just shook her head and simply said. “You, a gospel artiste, I doubt very much.”

That is the main problem with Kenyans, they do not believe in you whenever you need them to. However, when I start crooning and become a success, they will all claim a part of me. Then I will forgive them to prove to the Lord that I am indeed a reformed sinner.

I penned down the tune that was inspired by my meeting with the Lord so that I do not forget the lyrics and went looking for Size 8.

“Tunado Collabo na wewe!” I told her as she fluttered her eyelids with disbelief.

By the time I was through, she declared there was no way she could do a song like that with me. “Kwani you are crazy!” she shrieked. “ There is no way I can sing a chorus like that,” she said.

I did not understand. If you ask me, her part was quite easy. All she was supposed to do was dance as she sang at the top of her voice, “Shake that booty in the name of the Lord,’ and I would do the rest.

Without her and gospel DJs, l would not touch the song and that will be the end of me.

So, I suppose I am not launching my gospel album anytime soon.