“Becoming a prophet is the easiest and hottest business” Chikagunda stated. We all raised our eyebrows in anticipation.
“You think I’m lying? Think about it, all you have to say is ‘I can see this and that” you don’t even have to mention God in that so you he cannot punish you” he laughed at his own joke.
“Get a place to worship, you can start small like that place there” he pointed at the tiny bold spot under the mango tree. “People won’t mind as long as you tell them something they want to hear” he paused to admire one of the women passing by. His eyes followed her until she disappeared into the market. “Women like those will not be a problem to you too, they will come as far as the east and the west, following your star like the fishermen”
“you mean like the shepherds” I interrupted
“Who cares whether you don’t quote the right verse, these days people don’t read their bibles anymore, they use them for their butts!” the whole group burst into laughter.
Who did not know Chikagunda? The man God had called to save our village. He was a friend of the women and a foe to the local pastors. Chikagunda was a slender man, wide wasted and too tall for his age. His height would make you think that God has designed him specifically to easily hear messages from God. He had a special haircut that went round his long face with a sidelong cut on his left. His natural hair was dark brown but he would die it black on a regular basis. His skin was almost translucent; you could see his green veins. Even in the dark, you could see him from afar, like a shining bonfire. The dark patches on his joints revealed that his natural pigment had been tampered with. This did him good as he began to resemble a certain kind of people that added to his fame, especially when he wore his shiny sits. His leg would be sticking out like a toothpick in his ‘I can’t go down’ pants. You could see yourself in his anointed shiny black pointed shoes.
He was known by the name ‘The Brother of Christ’. He claimed to the people that he sat at the left hand of the father. Chikagunda was not rich like the other prophets we had seen on the televisions and posters in town. He had his own humble portion of wealth. His house had steel for a roof, properly furnished with cement and glass windows; it was more exquisite than the chief’s house. Chikagunda’s stomach had started to enlarge slowly because of the numerous foods his prophetesses and daughters brought to his house every day. Thobwa, local chicken, rice, cow, and goat tripe were most of the luxurious goods he received, most of which he sold to us secretly. The chief had befriended him not only because he wanted to increase his popularity but he had benefited from Chikagunda’s prophecies and prayers. Six months ago he had healed a man from HIV and AIDS setting popularity for himself.
It was unbelievable to mention that I had been Chikagunda’s best friend in Secondary school. At his age, he had already built two houses, owned a few lands, and traveled to town occasionally. I on the other hand was a mere street monger together with the rest of the guys. Even though I graduated top of the class my life was only trash.
“Don’t worry my brothers, I will teach you everything you have to know” he said with his hand around my shoulders.
“School never helped anyone you know! It is money that makes you happy” Chikagunda was the type of man that released showers of blessings whenever he opened his mouth.
“So when do we start,” another man asked. “Let’s start now!”
“Not so fast my brothers in the Lord” Chikagunda said. “You need to pay the price” We listened patiently.
“First of all you should never reveal to anyone about what I have just told you and what I will say in the future” we all nodded in agreement. “Secondly, you all must give me a sum of K10,000 so I can teach you everything including the basics of the bible”
“Where will we get such money in a village like this” we all murmured at each other.
“I don’t know, sell your goats or whatever, I don’t care” he showed no sympathy at all.
“Is there no other way?” I asked in desperation.
“There is but it will cost you much you know” his smile was corrupt.
“ok, as long as it doesn’t cost us K10,000”
“See this here” he pulled out a black plastic bag from his pocket. At first it looked like a charm .
“This is Cocaine, it’s the chemical that will make you rich” It had begun to run a bell that something was off.
“Cocaine?” we murmured.
“Why do you think I get all the money?” He cracked. “I’m no fool. See, a pinch like this sells for K5000”
Before there was room for anymore a discussion the group was disturbed by an uproar.
“It’s the police!” Chikagunda run like a wild cheetah tossing the plastic in the air.
“you are all under arrest for drug smuggling…” the atmosphere changed; everything else moved hastily.