The world today has majorly displayed contempt for integrity and the virtues that unified us no longer matter. Finding someone you can confide in is harder than summiting Mount Everest. This is not to mean that the world in its entirety is rotten and bankrupt of morals. There is still a crowd of faithful rare gems out here whom we can entrust with our secrets.
Different societies have adopted ways of having safe spaces where one can just walk in and tell their stories. But what happens when the person you are confiding to is a gifted storyteller?
That's my story with one clergyman I had an affair with. We met at Karùmaindo shopping centre where I worked in Menya ciaku bar and restaurant. I was a waitress and I served this man often without being concerned on who he was as it was the norm with my nature of work. I'd only serve my customers as instructed and I dared not to engage in any unnecessary conversation with them unless it was requested I do so. He frequented the pub often and always I'd serve him until on one of his visits on a Friday evening he introduced himself as Thomas and he requested we go on a date when I'm off work. We shared contacts and told him he can reach out on Tuesday the week following.
Thomas was a tall, dark and handsome young man. He was in his mid thirties, drove a grey Harrier and his smile was just the cherry on my cake . I admired him but work ethics demanded I tame my lust unless he liked me. And it happened.
So, we meet and we both like each other. His only demand was that I should not in any circumstance be pregnant with his child. He followed the rules set in place for his kind that they are to devote to service and shouldn't be entangled to ladies. At first I was afraid and it felt awkward being with him,but lust knows no barriers and that's how we made out same day and as well got to know him better as he drove from a hotel in Nairobi CBD to his rented house in Ruaka where I slept over the entire week. I had already taken a sick leave for two weeks from Menya ciaku bar and restaurant and we had quality time to spend together.
My relationship with Thomas lasted for only one week and this is why;
Despite him being a clergyman, he never honoured his oath of taking the faithful's confessions to the place of the dead. He didn't even try! Within that one week stay in his house, he would order liquor and have his friends coming over and the moment he gets drunk, I believe the entire host in heaven would turn their faces away, close their eyes and ears to not behold his actions.
He revealed every nook and cranny of a people who sounded so familiar given the stories. He spoke of a man Njùki who confessed selling bhang to the congregants,he one day raped a goat to fulfill a fetish for goats, how he danced with the chief's daughter at the forest as he was unveiling a special song he dedicated to her.
Mwalimu confessed giving children sweets having a drowsy effect whenever he felt tired to teach.
Mr Mukombero had poisoned his neighbour's cow out of jealousy,cheated on his spouse with the chief's wife and he fancied funerals of his peers who died mysteriously.
Susan had aborted twice and was the chief's concubine despite living in his father's house and leading Sunday school.
The chief's daughters were sired by Mr Mukombero but he always paraded them thinking they were his. He embezzled funds raised by the community offering his daughters a life of luxury.
Ngìma had confessed being addicted to alcohol, practised wizardry when sober, adding viagra to food in ceremonies as she was a certified chef.
I interrupted him as he shared these confessions and asked him the village he served at the time cause I knew all these people he had mentioned but he wasn't aware of it.
"Mukuru, of course! That's where you find such madness." He protested.
I smiled at him and spilled the beans, "Mukuru is my home!"
He went mute and he couldn't make an eye contact. He was embarrassed. His friends turned to him in disbelief. One asked if he had shared any confession made by a close relative, and to their suprise, I was the chief's daughter!
Not that I judged Thomas harshly but a gentleman of his calibre should have behaved better!
Different societies have adopted ways of having safe spaces where one can just walk in and tell their stories. But what happens when the person you are confiding to is a gifted storyteller?
That's my story with one clergyman I had an affair with. We met at Karùmaindo shopping centre where I worked in Menya ciaku bar and restaurant. I was a waitress and I served this man often without being concerned on who he was as it was the norm with my nature of work. I'd only serve my customers as instructed and I dared not to engage in any unnecessary conversation with them unless it was requested I do so. He frequented the pub often and always I'd serve him until on one of his visits on a Friday evening he introduced himself as Thomas and he requested we go on a date when I'm off work. We shared contacts and told him he can reach out on Tuesday the week following.
Thomas was a tall, dark and handsome young man. He was in his mid thirties, drove a grey Harrier and his smile was just the cherry on my cake . I admired him but work ethics demanded I tame my lust unless he liked me. And it happened.
So, we meet and we both like each other. His only demand was that I should not in any circumstance be pregnant with his child. He followed the rules set in place for his kind that they are to devote to service and shouldn't be entangled to ladies. At first I was afraid and it felt awkward being with him,but lust knows no barriers and that's how we made out same day and as well got to know him better as he drove from a hotel in Nairobi CBD to his rented house in Ruaka where I slept over the entire week. I had already taken a sick leave for two weeks from Menya ciaku bar and restaurant and we had quality time to spend together.
My relationship with Thomas lasted for only one week and this is why;
Despite him being a clergyman, he never honoured his oath of taking the faithful's confessions to the place of the dead. He didn't even try! Within that one week stay in his house, he would order liquor and have his friends coming over and the moment he gets drunk, I believe the entire host in heaven would turn their faces away, close their eyes and ears to not behold his actions.
He revealed every nook and cranny of a people who sounded so familiar given the stories. He spoke of a man Njùki who confessed selling bhang to the congregants,he one day raped a goat to fulfill a fetish for goats, how he danced with the chief's daughter at the forest as he was unveiling a special song he dedicated to her.
Mwalimu confessed giving children sweets having a drowsy effect whenever he felt tired to teach.
Mr Mukombero had poisoned his neighbour's cow out of jealousy,cheated on his spouse with the chief's wife and he fancied funerals of his peers who died mysteriously.
Susan had aborted twice and was the chief's concubine despite living in his father's house and leading Sunday school.
The chief's daughters were sired by Mr Mukombero but he always paraded them thinking they were his. He embezzled funds raised by the community offering his daughters a life of luxury.
Ngìma had confessed being addicted to alcohol, practised wizardry when sober, adding viagra to food in ceremonies as she was a certified chef.
I interrupted him as he shared these confessions and asked him the village he served at the time cause I knew all these people he had mentioned but he wasn't aware of it.
"Mukuru, of course! That's where you find such madness." He protested.
I smiled at him and spilled the beans, "Mukuru is my home!"
He went mute and he couldn't make an eye contact. He was embarrassed. His friends turned to him in disbelief. One asked if he had shared any confession made by a close relative, and to their suprise, I was the chief's daughter!
Not that I judged Thomas harshly but a gentleman of his calibre should have behaved better!
