(Continued from No Vows Broken II)
(Folks, first receive my sincerest apologies. Somehow as I was planning my week, I got mixed up and thought that the blog is due tonight, and not yesterday night. I don’t know how that happened, but it did. Poleni sana)
“What was that Maurice?” Sabina, asks her husband.
“I just told him the truth, as I should have from the beginning. What he is doing is wrong.”
“And what is wrong with a man finding love?”
“He is married, Sabina. He has no business looking for another wife.”
“Did you officiate his wedding? Have you seen a wedding certificate? The man said he is not married, who are you to contradict him?”
“Sabina…”
“Don’t Sabina me, Maurice. You just chased away the man who single-handedly supports this church. Wait, you did not chase him, he chased you, because he owns this church. Mutwiri is the one who made you the man you are today, and you had the audacity to embarrass him like you did?”
“So now because he owns this church I should not point out where he is wrong? And by the way he doesn’t own this church, he just owns the buildings. It is God who owns the church, and if we have to worship under a tree, then we will.”
“I hope I am not included in the ‘we’ because if you think you are going to be living off my salary, then you are grossly mistaken. Go and fix your situation with Mutwiri, otherwise don’t bother to come to my staff house,” Sabina snaps and then picks her handbag and storms out of the office.
“Please don’t get into trouble on my account, Pastor,” Kendi says, stunned. The pastor and his wife have always been the perfect couple. Sabina is always gushing about her husband both on social media and in real life. Seeing her snapping at and walking out on her husband is therefore very strange.
“It is not your fault, Kendi. I am just doing what I should have done in the first place. I owe you and God an apology. I allowed Mutwiri and Sabina to influence my thinking, even though I knew that what Mutwiri was doing was wrong.”
“You are right pastor, and I am proud of you. You know when Kendi came I was embarrassed because I didn’t know what to say to her,” Beatrice says, entering the room. “I want you to know that whatever decision you make, my husband and I will support you; as long as it does not involve allowing Chairman and his girlfriend to get married.”
“You cannot speak for another individual, Beatrice; even if that individual is your husband.”
“I have already talked to Nicholas and told him what happened here. He is in support of the decision you have just made.”
“That was fast.”
“I will be honest with you, Pastor K. Since Chairman and his girlfriend started coming here, I have been very uncomfortable. I thought that by approving what they were doing you were going against scripture. So I shared it with my husband, and he shared my point of view. I have thought about resigning; Nicholas and I have even discussed leaving the church. But I could not bring myself to leave because in spite of everything I respect you a lot. So when I heard what you told Mutwiri and your wife, I could not hold back my joy. I rushed out and called my hubby. We are a hundred percent behind you on this, Passie.”
“Thank you Beatie. But there are things you should know. I was serious when I talked about worshipping under a tree. You see, the truth is that Mutwiri’s tithes and offerings are way more than the combined offerings of the rest of the members, so even if all the other congregants stick with me, the church income will be way less than what we currently have. And I can assure you that a significant number of congregants will stick with Mutwiri. What that means is that Vibrant Pentecostals Fellowship is facing tough times ahead. I cannot even promise I will afford your salary.”
“Don’t worry about that, Pastor K. I will volunteer until the church can afford to pay me again. My husband makes enough to support the family. Just tell us what we should do and my husband and I will support you.”
“Thank you Beatie. But let me take time to pray about this. I need God’s guidance. Sunday is still three days away, so we have some time.”
“And are you going to be okay at home, Passie?” Kendi asks. “Was your wife serious about you not going home until you make peace with that brute?”
The pastor sighs and his shoulders sag in resignation.
“I am afraid she might be serious. The thing is, my marriage has been hanging on a thread for decades now. Forget about the public appearances; I don’t think Sabina loves me. I think she only stays with me for status and to get her bills paid. When we met, she had just been hired as a secretary at a top law firm in Nairobi, and I was an associate advocate. We liked each other and started dating. Since the policy of the firm prohibited intra-office dating, she resigned. We started preparing for our wedding almost immediately. After Sabina and I got married, she decided to be a housewife. That was no problem because I was earning enough to support the both of us. I was a star at the firm, and the only way for me career wise was only up.
Three years after our wedding, I became a Senior Associate, and that came with a pay rise. I was well on my way to partnership. But then I became unsettled and started feeling a tug at my heart. I wanted to do something for the community, and I was feeling that commercial law was not it. I shared the feeling with my wife but she told me to cut the nonsense. She did not want to go back to work. I told her that she would not have to: we would only scale down our lifestyle, you know, move to a cheaper neighborhood, and probably trade the Mercedes Benzes for low maintenance models. She told me she would leave me if I dared.
I dared.
When I quit the law firm I did not consult her. She just saw me one day not going to work, and when she asked I told her that we would me moving from Kileleshwa to Juja. She said she was not going anywhere, so I just got a moving company and moved the things to the house I had rented a couple of weeks before. I had already tendered a notice for the house so I told her that if she wanted to continue living there she was welcome to do so, but she would have to rent the space under her own name. I took my daughters and left her there.”
“Did she follow you?”
“No. I brought up Pauline and Mauline-my daughters are twins-alone for eight years, from the time they were about three years till they were about eleven. I found a job at some NGO where I was doing everything from public interest litigation, to counselling to representing poor people in court pro bono. We were two full time lawyers at the NGO, three counselors and the finance/admin types who chased donors to ensure that we could serve our clients without charging a dime. Since the work involved fighting for the rights of the poorer members of the society, I was happy. The pay wasn’t great, but I was feeling fulfilled. Plus the pressure, while it was there, was not as much as I had when I was at the law firm so my daughters and I had a lot of time to bond.”
“Who used to stay with your daughters while you were away at work? You said they were three when you parted ways with Sabina, right?”
“Yes they were three years old. My place of work was in Juja, where I also lived, and there was a school nearby that had both kindergarten and primary school. I would drop them off at the kindergarten at around eight in the morning and pick them up at three in the afternoon. I would send them to bed at three thirty and that would give me time to complete my work. Then at six I would stop working and prepare dinner. I would wake them up at seven and we would stay up until ten. Then I would send them back to bed. If I had any unfinished work I would complete it after ten. If not I would read till 11.30 then go to bed.
Their mother appeared suddenly in our lives just when I had resigned again, because I had felt the call to be a pastor. She begged me to take her back. I wanted my girls to have a relationship with their mother, so I agreed. But I warned her that I was moving to this village town and I also insisted that we would have to be tested for HIV because I did not know where she had been all those years.”
“So you came here and started life afresh.”
“I am not sure how “afresh” that was, because there was still a lot of friction. She kept grumbling that I had cosigned her to a life of poverty. By and large I ignored her. We were not destitute. During my time at the law firm and the NGO I had invested in a few rental houses, so I was earning a decent amount of money every month even as I laid the foundations for the church. It is just we no longer had the same kind of luxury we had when I was working at the law firm.
Then Sabina decided to embrace the church. She struck a friendship with Mutwiri, and she convinced him to join our church. I had leased a piece of land and set up a tent. By then the church had about seventy members. But they were all poor people who did not give much in terms of tithes and offerings. Mutwiri got Sabina the job she has at the hospital, and he also ensured that she got the staff house that we live in. The owner of the hospital is Mutwiri’s friend so it was not a big deal for him. Mutwiri also donated the land that we are standing in. He contributed more than half of the money we used to build this sanctuary, with the rest coming from his friends. Sabina also recruited her colleagues to join the church, and that is how the middle class started coming in. But Mutwiri still remains the largest giver in the church.”
*
“Have been sleeping with Kendi?” Lilian asks hotly as they drive away from the church.
“Don’t start, Lillian. I am not in the mood.”
“But you are going to be my husband. I have a right to know.”
“Yes I have been sleeping with her. And I have a fourteen year-old son with her. Satisfied?”
“Why did you lie to me?”
“Stop it!” Mutwiri snaps and stops the car at the side of the road. “If you are no longer interested in getting married to me just get out and get lost.”
(Continued Here)
Image by Photoshot from Pixabay: https://pixabay.com/photos/woman-profile-black-black-and-white-1151562/
*
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