There are people I know who live for Sunday mornings. They are not the most saintly lot but for the love of relevant and insightful televangelism, they love Sunday mornings. They are my family. My kinds of people so to speak. These are the people who understand being late for church devoid of guilt. Because church started in the house.
I’m not talking about Kanyaris and those fellows perched on horrendous sofas with M-pesa numbers emboldened above the sermon. Those guys whose message always revolves around giving and Harambees to buy the man of God a car. Please. God’s son walked on water, rode on camel backs and strolled in wooden sandals. Take a seat pastor. I’m talking about the real deals.
Or THE real deal.
The cut above the best, the man of cloth cut from a different cloth. This man for me is Pastor JB Masinde of deliverance church. I love his eloquence and his ability to capture an audience. In a sermon no less. That has got to be a special gift. I am especially intrigued by his multilingualism. The man speaks a dozen ethnic languages. Now that is the head of a diverse church right there.
There is something about a man at the altar, in charge of his thoughts, aware of his faith, an ability to nurture true scripture in his flock, mould a congregation and engage the attention of other Christians. All this in one televangelist. In a good suit might I add? You can’t make this stuff up. We could talk about the power in his sermons but just what adjective would we use? He is that fantastic. Yesterday he just touched me in a different way. On a social level and our socialization process as a people.
At the peak of his sermon he made a pronouncement that many church pastors have stayed away from. The menace that is corruption, the shame that is our moral fabric and the joke that has become of our integrity.
“This is the country in which behind every successful man, there is a scandal”.
I hope we all realize that scandal is not a euphemism for woman or anything, just so we are clear. It was a jaw dropping, eye popping, throat drying and knee buckling moment for me. I heard him and it repeated itself in my head so loudly I had to take a shot of my tea.
As I have mentioned (in another article) statistics show that a very disheartening and alarming number of Kenyan youth are ok with corruption.
We’ve become so cool with it, doing anything or attempting to live honestly has become lame, uncool and nearly unheard of. This is not my attempt to justify our obsequious attitude towards corruption. I am trying to take responsibility and have a conversation here. If we are going to ever change the face of this country for the sake of our future, we need to talk. Engage in conversation. But our societal flaws are not exclusively corruption. Our work ethic is in wanting mode, our moral aerials are bent at best and misplaced at worst and apparently, we dream too much, have too little will to work and want easy money fast. And we want it now.
According to the older generation, it’s worse. Ouch!
This evening after close of business, a flamboyant lawyer will slide into his BMW X5. He will hang his Sir Henry coat at the back. Check his iPhone six S for emails. He will have responded to the important ones and starred the one from Cindy (whom we shall officially meet later). He will glide the highways to meet his sophisticated doctor friend for a few drinks. Equally flashy but his name is Otieno so his watch will be the size of a city clock. Worn above the gold cufflinks, with a failed American accent laced in Luo bravura, they will chat like long lost friends do.
These bad boys will engage in silly conversation mostly around Cindy, then lawyers second wife never-to-be and the doctors obsession with the waitresses behind. A behind they will brush against every chance they get.
All this time a young man at the next table will be looking at them. He will keep his chocolate complexion but his heart will be green with envy. He will want all that these men have. The car, the money, the phone, the suit, the watch. I’d hope he thinks different. But he will want the power to objectify women in the same manner. The ability to have a wife and another woman to never want to wife. He will envision his success in the form that’s most real to him. Two men, practicing professions that have been glorified for 8+4+4 years, validated by the people he loves and stamped by vain girls he fancies. To him this is the life without which, he has failed.
Forward ten years later. The young lad is in his sir Henry suit. He has acquired all the accoutrements of a successful man. He now has the power in his watch, phone, car and attitude. He wants to pick his waiter. He drives the car the doctor did a decade ago. He should be able to act the way he did. At this exact establishment. He is exactly the bigot he saw in the doctor patron and the philandering prick the lawyer was. But his impact and drive is on a new level. He is those two combined.
Next to this catastrophic version of a man, there is a similar scenario. And it’s a cycle. It’s a vicious cycle, but its existence. Then the now ten years older big boys will see this new version of them. And the lawyer, who has since been dumped by Cindy for performance issues and past due bills will look to the doctor and say:
What a licentious young boy. What has society sunk to? These boys don’t know what it takes to hold a marriage together.
He will quip. His joke of a friend will nod in agreement. Along with their older generation colleagues they shall unanimously pass that we are a lost course as a generation. But they will forget the most important part. To take responsibility for their part in this rot. Such hypocrisy.
That young men do not understand the tenet of fidelity is a truth young ladies live with everyday in this country. However, we are not asking the right questions. So they are promiscuous little men, why are you shocked when you were the teachers? You are standing on the sidelines pointing fingers because you have done your part? You have been a fantastic role model and they bit this habit in a burger at Java Kisumu si ndio? This only focuses on the issue of fidelity. There is too much corruption on the dailies and the news for me to dwell on.
Integrity is just the name of another building in Nairobi. But it started from somewhere.
If you are the older generation (you know exactly what I mean), go home this evening, take a shower, have a cup of coffee and reflect on how you have acted in public. How you have conducted your business. Then pause. Press play. Think about the impact of the aforementioned on the people who look up to you. I don’t know what you will be doing by the time you read this. If it angers you, take a deep breath, perhaps exfoliate, and then hug a transformer.
And then have a good evening whatever you reaction is.