Naturally a Pantomimist

They say there are many ways of killing a rat. I also say that there are many ways of preaching to somebody. For the rat, I would prefer to use the simplest way possible of disengaging it’s life gears. I mean I would opt for booking a ticket for two to Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia, and when we’re at three thousand miles towards heaven, I open the window, hold it by the tail and allow it to do some parachuting techniques without a parachute!
Anyway, this time round, I was forced to really put on a black jacket. This young lady (whom I am afraid to refer to as my cousin) stole my phone, my imported gadget. I had sacrificed a few Kenyan dollars coupled with some precious bongapoints as dowry to Bob Collymore of the Safaricom Limited to betroth me with that machine. It was my first touch screen, bought with my own hard-earned resources (although I took some bongapoints from Mama Alice’s phone without her knowledge).
Having been raised up with the knowledge that beautiful Luhya girls born in the village are not thieves, I never expected such to happen to me once again.

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I was in college for four years and I managed to lose nine phones only to the Githurai mafia. I had promised myself that nobody else would ever part with my phone, especially after winning the yellow belt in kung-fu by the end of my college studies. However, how she got into my pockets while I had visited my aunt opened my eyes to realize that a standard seven dropout could make quite a good thief. How could she dare steal something from a kung-fu graduate with a yellow belt, a millionaire? A father of two? (Speaking in future tense).
Anyway, she went ahead and stole my phone. She didn’t recognize anything regarding God or the bible and that’s why I believe she stole it. I could definitely use not even scriptures or John Hagee’s preachings to convince her to bring back the phone. There was no other significant way I could coerce her to give up hiding it even at a fee. At the same time, I really needed the phone because it had my fiancee’s contact which I was yet to cram and nobody else in my friends circle had that number! Therefore, I employed Loliondo style.
Mama shouldn’t get to know about this as a matter of fact. I conglomerated these cousins together with a preconceived idea of portraying her as a mother who birthed a witch.
Instinctively, I did not mention that I had lost the phone to them. Infact, the phone grabber expected me to scrutinize her like the ICC fellows but I wanted to prove to her that the fee mama paid for me upto higher learning in college level didn’t just disappear in thin air like the Malaysian plane.

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I told them that I had been living in Uganda for quite sometime and one thing I appreciated being taught was how to do abracadabra. I told them that all the politicians who used to travel to Uganda in search of higher powers used to come to the place I was being taught the process of manufacturing charm. I told them that I would gather the paraphernalia and prepare some concoctions from powders and leaves that papa Odu had gathered (papa Odu was my senior in that job). I was quick to mention how I slapped some ‘vipara’ of politicians in the name of smearing the medicine over their heads.
I also mentioned of how I narrowed my path of studies to specialize in dealing with thieves. I was a guru in putting them in a transparent bottle. I used to convert the stomachs of thieves into four compartments which made them to eat and digest grass. I also dealt with another civil servant from Bungoma county and that is how he found himself mattressing on Kenyan dollars amounting to six hundred Kenyan dollars instead of putting them into use. Sleeping on money? Let it be a story for another day.
I also narrated how I treated another Indian in Kilifi who ended up in the streets shouting how he was involved in the Goldenberg and Anglo-leasing sagas. Infact, I am the one who initiated this old man from Nyanza for him to foresee some people eyeing the NYS funds in the government.  For their information, the reason why Man Unye was hesitant in contracting me to fish out thieves in the government was the fear of losing his party members!
My charm worked wonders! I mean my machine finally resurrected! I found it on the table after I had dispersed these relatives of mine. Mission accomplished.
Now, Operation Unda Jina was the next mission I was supposed to engage in before retiring as a soldier. I had to find a way of telling them that I wasn’t the person I had said I was. Therefore, I again had to gather them a few minutes before bidding auntie bye. I didn’t forget to put explicitly to them the reason why I unsubscribed and left witchcraft, got saved and pursued Christianity. I told them of this tale of the rich fellow who had sacrificed everything in order to get rich. He had enjoyed lucifer’s riches and his payback period was overdue.  Because he didn’t want to pay back what belonged to Caesar, demons were really harassing him at night such that he wished that the likes of Joshua existed to stop the sun from setting in its normal time. He therefore visited all the witches in Uganda in search of a voodoo that would protect him from these problems. He luckily found the the president of witches who did his gymnastics. He later pronounced that this man had two options: Either to relax and wait for his death or get to Jesus of Nazareth (by getting saved) who would watch over him against the demon’s attacks. If it were you, would you prefer death to Christ?
Anyway, that is how that lady brought back my phone,  repented and asked me to lead her to Christ. Don’t you think I deserve to receive some offering from you readers? My MPESA number is 07….

Pssst…  I later realized that papa Odu wasn’t a Ugandan but his real name was Michael Maina Gaciuri wa Njenga from some village in Central Kenya. He has always looked down upon this fellow who was caught sleeping on money instead of buying a probox …

Muthee Musakhulu

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