CHURCH HEATHEN

“Wamebarikiwa wanaoutafuta uso wake mungu baba…” (Blessed are those who seek God) sings the mellow voice. I can almost place a face to the voice without laying my eyes on her. She must be a beautiful lady of the church with luscious lips to sing for the Lord. The type that made David sin. Heck! What I’m I thinking? It’s Sunday for Christ’s sake. And I am gaining entry into a place of worship. So I suppress those thoughts for lusty Thursday as I enter the church.

The ever eager usher greets me the church way as she shows me where to sit. How is one supposed to maintain a clear head…? Sorry… brain with all these dazzling women around? I need divine intervention if I am to survive the service with a perversion-free mind! So help me God.

I sink into my sit, whisper a brief repentance prayer to the most high and ask him to take over my mind, soul and body. Sinning in this place is the last thing I want do.

Then I see her. The praise and worship leader.

Wait a minute.

She looks familiar. I have definitely seen that face somewhere recently. So I zoom in on her trying to figure out where I had seen her. Today she is wearing a yellow floral dress flowing all the way to the ground. The only visible part of her body is her arms. The immaculately manicured nails do not go unnoticed.

Now I remember. She is the lass I saw yesterday at the local. Yes! She is definitely the one. You remember the girl in the trio? The one I wished was white to complete the human Oreo? That one. But today she looks like Sarah. The biblical Sarah. You know Abraham’s wife, right? Well, I never had the chance to meet her but the religious movies I have watched and bible verses I’ve read about her are enough to create a mental image of how she looked like. A reserved woman who loves God sums it up pretty accurately.

So this party animal cannot only grind, but she can sing too. I wonder why she is not gyrating today. But it’s hard to tell what is happening under that dress. My lips curl. I can feel a sneer welling up. It’s hard to hide disgust. More so when the memories are barely a day old. Too many questions run through my mind. For instance, why does she hold that mic so well? Could it be she had been practicing overnight how to hold one? But I doubt if she has a microphone at her place. But she need not have one. All she had to do was take one (or both) of her dancing partners to her place then the rest would sort itself out.

But who I’m I to judge? So I just let her be. Lord bless her soul.

The congregation is now animated as they jump and clap for the lord. So I follow suit. I do not want to appear out of place.

But the pianist is not in sync with the vocalist. His beat has a tempo that’s higher than hers, and it’s evident she is straining to keep up. So I momentarily peek at the pianist.

Damn! Is the entire club here? I cannot forget that forehead at whatever cost. So Mr. Dj is here too, doing what he does best only that he’s using a piano this time round. Yeah, and he does not have his fake headphones. He has his head slightly bent towards the piano. I can barely see his neck. Niggar needs to do something about that forehead of his, say donate it to charity or something. But today his skills with music are pathetic. Whatever happened to the charm he had yester night.

“Praise God brother. Is this seat occupied?” interrupts a soft voice, breaking my chain of thoughts. I am angered. So I turn to face the source and tell them off in as much church rudeness as I can summon.

“Oh! Hi there. Uhm… No! No! It is not occupied.” I reply smiling coyly! There’s no way a man can get angry at all this beauty. “She has a lovely pair of legs” whispers the red-horned voice in my head as she sits.

“Stay away from me devil!” I say a tad too loudly. This will be one long mass. Sigh.