This and that with Mal'phosa - Abahlutshwa ngu Jesu

"Thulani bantwabami ngob'unyoko wabaleka; Musan'ungikhalela selilhuph'amaDlozi; musanukung'khalela selihluph'uJesu."

 This is an extract from one of the late Vusi Xmba songs. Here is a man who questioned a lot of things like Christianity and despised women and marriage so much he had nothing good to say about both. His collaborator too, Ntombinkulu , also questioned everything  western, including culture and Christianity. In some of his songs, he asks how Christianity came to dominate African religions as it has done over the years. He asks also if the stories in the bible are still relevant to our generations, and how come not even one bible chapter was written by a black person or is about a black people in good light.

In Zulu culture, anyone who has amadlozi kuthiwa ulobizo, or calling in English. It is the whites that coined phrases like 'he has troublesome spirits' whenever a black person was possessed by amadlozi. And, like the conquered parrots that we are, we just followed, 'uhlutshwa ngama dlozi'. But Ximba here briefly suggests that if amadlozi ehlupha umuntu, then Jesu should also considered in this light because both these are religious beliefs.

We used to have so many boys at school ababehlutshwa ngamadlozi. One boy's ancestors stayed with him on the school grounds, for over a week after he had lost a fierce fist fight over a banana with a class mate. Until his parents came to school and did some rituals to appease the spirits and apologize on behalf of weakling. The ancestors went away but would still come and check upon the child once in a while. I understand the boy is now a very good sangoma in his home area in Gwanda. At times a girl would collapse after a race and shout and scream hysterically and speak in tongues until after school. For the whole month, she would stay away until she comes back esegqize ubuhlalu lama ngqongqo lamathambo amagundwane lembankwa la gcigciyane labongcethe. In short, most of those abahlutshwa ngamadlozi show signs of being physically or mentally unhealthy. Until they are sent to thwasa some place else.  And they come back to help their communities and beyond.

Jesu also had a fair share of boys he troubled. There were many such young souls in the scripture union. These would stare at their small Gideon's Bibles twenty four seven – during lessons, meals, sports, assembly, tests, exams, at night, and at times be heard praying with voices so full of agony and pleading, on the local kopje. The boys were mostly those sleep walkers who saw little hope in anything and no hope in their causes at all.

In later years we saw grown up men walking the streets erenkini, ebhoreni, emabhawa, along taxi or fuel or food queues, preaching to everyone there gathered. There was this particular one who had just lost his job at the post office and had taken one pair of his uniform as part of his severance package. He would walk from the main post office via egodini to erenkini, shouting to no one in particular, telling it to the wind that god's mbuso was around the corner. And wayelenhlamba, calling a spade a spade, claiming that for people to leave sin, it must be called by its embarrassing, despicable name.

I also had the misfortune of being confronted by one such man in a queue at Cabs. "Uyathandaza ku nkos'ujesu?" I had been in the queue since four in the morning, with no hope of ever getting cash from the bank. The last thing I wanted was for someone to tell me kuzoba right. It was not alright and it wasn't promising to be, as far as I could see. But I didn't have the energy to fight either. 'Abathandazayo babhalisa kuwe?' I teased, pointing at the note book he cuddled jealously to his chest. He did not find this amusing. 'Unkosujesu uthe ngikutshele uthandaze.' He said with chilling finality. Still, I was not fazed "Man! What a lucky man you are. Thina abanye simfuna phansi laphezulu asimtholi. Wena umbonephi?' He walked away in peace. I looked at him and cursed after him for making me blaspheme.

Since then, I have seen more people who can be said to be 'troubled by Jesu'. Look at the miracles done in the Church today. See how multitudes are fed with snakes, frogs, grass, and petrol, instead of just fish and bread and wine! All this the pastors do for money – pledge, and it seems the pastors are in competition to make as much money as possible from the all credulous and desperate flock; and, for as long as Christianity can still generate money, this will never stop. They know these are desperate times and most people seek help not 'from the mountain' but from other clever and brave mortals like them.

But the Incredible happenings pastor, Mr. Mboro, takes the cake. Most people, including some of his flock, actually think it's not Jesu troubling him; they think he takes the best grade of every illegal drug available on the black market. On Easter, he went to heaven and came back with photographs for proof. Well, no one has seen those photos yet but they are available on the church's face book page and on Whatsapp, so long as one will pledge (a term used to camouflage payment in church) five thousand rands only. For only five thousand rands, one will get to preview heaven and its residents, including may God or Jesu himself. This is the same pastor who will ask for five thousand rands pledges if he prays for you.

I usually watch this pastor's TV program. Two come to mind; on the one he was praying for this woman who had a distended abdomen as if she had over grown twins in her tummy. Mboro placed his foot on the woman's big tummy and clutched vigorously as he prayed with eyes opened. He let his foot skid and down the screaming woman's tummy, clutching irregularly all the time, until his foot was settled on the woman's private parts. There it stayed and clutched even more powerfully, with the heel pivoting on the floor for balance. The woman's attempt to wriggle writhe away from the pain and embarrassment was fruitless as her husband and daughter pinned her down in trepidation.  

Another one was when he spoke to the devil over his cell-phone. 'Yah, wena Satan, ufuna ukungibulala! And the devil answered in Zulu too; 'Yebo, wena uxoshelani ingelosi zami?' 'Ingilosi zakho lezi ngo moyomubi. Zihlukumeza ingane zika Nkulunkulu.' And it went on and on, with the congregation so petrified. Towards the end of the conversation, the devil was calling Mboro the chosen one, the son of God, the Man of Mod, the holly man of Mod and such elite heavenly terms.
Now, he has been to heaven and back, practically and literally! I can imagine him taking photos of angels celebrating his triumphal ascension into heaven – flapping wings, ululating, singing, shouting, whistling blowing vuvuzelas, and singing their tonsil swollen. I can see him taking boastful selfies with the angels, or Jesu or God himself. I can see him walking around his room, next to Moses' one. I can see him pompously inspecting the golden streets and gates and chatting to the guards nodding at the domestics and shepherds and flicking his long fingers at admiring dogs. I can see him viewing the New Jerusalem from above, or visiting his permanently departed congregants, relatives and friends. I can see him taking the picture of the distraught devil on the other side of the boundary, fueling the Hades and frying his followers and drooling at the prospect of fried sinners' meat.

But then he wasn't there for long. He might just have had time to receive new instructions or road map and energizers from God or Jesu. For, so much has changed in the past two thousand years and one expects that heaven has moved with times too. Meanwhile, those who have been wondering how umz'ozayo looks like, here is your chance to have a glimpse of it before you depart. A workmate says Mboro says his 'Last Seen" on Whatsapp reads, 'Heaven'. However, he says he himself will only see heaven proper, not these fake pictures, when he gets there, for free! Ngiyabonga mina!