Prophet Wantudu sat in his office unable to perform. He had had such a nightmarish turn with Taipa, his pregnant girlfriend and her sister, Nera, he was out of breath. He did not have a history of high blood pressure but the way his head was aching and spinning made him wonder if he had provoked his way into the click of well-fed buffoons who generally suffered from high blood pressure.
He advised those waiting to see him to hang on for a while.
“The Holy Spirit is leading me into prayer, meditation and reflection. Give me time. Maybe thirty minutes,” he lied.
Lying had become so much a part of his life. Otherwise the whole of his survival now rested on how well, how convincingly he could craft fibs. The moment people stopped believing him, he would be finished! He was aware that lying was a sin. In fact it was as big a sin as murder in God’s sight but how could he worry about the “little” sins like lying when he was guilty of giant sins, major ones like adultery on such a regular basis it was becoming (arguably) the core business of his ministry? Wasn’t he also guilty of literally taking God’s name in vain by practicing horrific sins, doing crazy acts like selling plain water and cooking oil as holy water and anointed oil? For all intents and purposes, he had fallen so deep down the chastity pit he should accept he was no better than any ordinary conman or bamboozler anywhere in the world. He knew too that he was living on borrowed time, that his survival depended on how well he maintained his façade and how well he covered his tracks all the time.
With his head banging like some imbecile was pummeling several designs of African drums inside it, his mind a whirlwind of thoughts, imaginations and worries, he drifted into slumber on the office chair. He slept so soundly he had no idea in the end where he was. For those waiting outside, the faithful and the hopeful, the prophet of God was praying and meditating. He would be in the best of spiritual orientation when he called them in! So the wait was worth it. They waited.
He had slept for more than an hour. When he awoke, he went to the Gents to empty his bladder. He looked in the mirror and noticed that is eyes were so red he would scare anyone who walked into his office with them. He passed some cold water over his face before returning to the office. For long minutes, he walked about aimlessly in his office wondering whether this life was worth it. He felt very guilty and for once wanted to kneel down, repent and ask God for his forgiveness. But he failed. There were people outside waiting for him. He could not do anything sensible with them without getting into one form of sin or another.
Fine, he could resist any temptation to have sex with his clients. The demon of sexual immorality should for once have to obey him and stay locked up inside him, no movements, no talking to him, nothing! He would not do sex while Taipa and Nera were living testimonies of the consequences of his careless sexual adventures. But how would he deal with the sick whom he often treated with cooking oil that he pretended was anointed oil? He indeed had scored such immense success he came to realize the pouring of the stuff on people could just be having a psychological effect and healing them. He wouldn’t be able to avoid lying and cheating. He was in a dilemma. He felt like refusing to see anyone. He needed to go home and reflect. He just didn’t feel like seeing people and lying to them. He was in no mood to do fake prayers and tell people their futures were bright when he could see not a thing about them ahead!
He opened the office door and looked outside. The first client at the head of the queue was a beautiful plump woman, light in complexion with a gap between her teeth. She smiled anxiously,her cheeks forming beautiful dimples as Wantudupeered across at the expectant disciples. He had said the demon in him would have to listen to him. He had said no temptations for the day. The demon of sexual immorality would be under lock and key. Yet as soon as he saw the woman at the head of the queue, the demon was loud and clear in his head, talking, laughing and taunting him.
‘Boss, you’ve bedded ugly women in here!’ the demon was saying.‘Will you ignore such a beauty when she comes along? You won’t send her away, will you? I mean what for? Just have a chat with her and test her availability. You don’t have to do anything with her today. Just ensure that she is available, she remainswithin your sights. Enter her in your database! Talk to her!’
“I’m sorry everybody,” he addressed the little crowd of mostly women seated on the benches. “I can only see one person today. Lady, get inside.”
The plump beauty stood up and walked in, almost triumphantly.
“The rest of you, come back tomorrow,” he advised. “I will be in by 09hours.”
He turned and walked back into the office closing the door behind him. The woman had sat down on a chair directly opposite his desk chair.
“How does a wonderful creation like you sit before the man of God can see and appreciate the beauty all round which God put in her?” asked Wantudu.
She instantly stood up, her smile widening.
“The man of God has the duty of seeing the beauty in God’s creations and thanking Him for it…because a lot of people see beauty and fail to ascribe it to the mighty one who created it…and so they walk by without a word of thanks to God! Genuine men of God, when they see a beautiful well-crafted person like you…they look up into the heavens and say ‘Glory be to you the almighty God for this creation, halleluiah!’ Indeed, my sister you are wonderfully made in the image of God!”
“Thank you, Prophet,” she said timidly.
“Sometimes I wonder, my lovely, beautiful sister why God is like this,” he was sizing her up, the demon of sexual immorality operating at high voltage already. “How can God spend so much building material on YOU alone my sister? I mean look at the art and flesh He used to craft the part behind you… and your hips! I am just thanking God, you know… appreciating Him for the wonderful work He does! So, so much flesh, there, enough flesh too on your chest…and look at that beautiful smile, that gap between your teeth and the dimples, oh my God! He is great isn’t He my sister?”
“Yes He is,” she agreed, a bit embarrassed by the Prophet’s detail.
“Yes,” continued Wantudu. “I was saying he has made every part of your body complete, admirable, irresistible… I know even what I cannot see is wonderfully made in His image …”
She was so clearly uncomfortable she shifted her eyes off him.
“So when I see a Miss World like you I ask why did God make some so beautiful, spent so much time on them, so much construction hours, yet He made some so ugly…”
“No one made by God is ugly, ba Prophet,” she countered uneasily.
“Anyway, what I was doing is just to …to… it’s my job to appreciate God’s wonderful creations and thank Him when I see them. You are a wonderful creation, my sister.”
“Thank you, ba Prophet.”
He asked her name and she told him. He waffled around and jested over and over to get her to laugh and be fully neutralized for the attack when he made it. The attack was inevitable. Whatever she had come for, this was the kind of woman that he knew he would not be able to resist in spite of his earlier worries about how sex had already put him in trouble. He asked what she wanted him to do for her.
“Prophet, I’m barren,” she disclosed.
Easy meat! These were the ones that he feasted upon easily.
“I’ve been married twice before, to men who had children from other women. I never became pregnant. My marriage is on the brink of collapsing. My husband seems to be straying towards other women because he too wants a child.”
“I see,” said Wantudu, his voice getting stronger, almost roaring like a marauding lion, ready to pounce.
“I have heard that barren women who come here… when you sleep withthem, they become pregnant afterwards so I came that you….”
“Whaaaaaaaat?” Wantudu was in such shock his head started spinning again. “Who… wha… who says?”
She was somewhat unnerved by his sharp reaction.
“That’s … that’s what I… er I was told,” she mumbled.
Jesus Christ of Nazareth!