SOWE rekuDomboshava had been the Pastor’s choice.
He had said that there was power in those mountains; power to unlock God’s favour.
His sermon on God’s favour had been inspiring.
He had said: “God’s favour will give you the job you don’t qualify to have. God’s favour will give you the spouse everyone thinks you don’t deserve. God’s favour will open doors for you. God’s favour will get you the visa to the UK and the USA nyore nyore with no questions asked.”
Less than halfway to their destination pamusorosoro pegomo, the flock seeking God’s favour was already divided.
Panguva yezviratidzo, a man seeking God’s favour into Parliament had said: “We cannot entertain the spirits of men who died by the sword. We must ask ourselves what is making their spirits not rest in peace. Besides, those people you call comrades were not godly men.
They consulted spirit mediums and believed in Nehanda who rejected the Christian faith and died in sin.”
A small woman had said: “I think in all fairness it is wrong to say that those who died to give us independence are demons. We cannot accept and enjoy the benefits of the liberation struggle and yet condemn those who paid the ultimate price for it.”
And a big woman had declared: “Regai nditaure ndichiti – No-one died for me except Jesus. I was bought by the blood of Jesus and not some war veteran. I am on this mountain to ask for God’s favour for a visa so that I may leave you and your veterans and your fallen heroes with the poverty they brought upon us.”
The argument had left the flock ascending the mountain literally clustered according to political affiliation.
A ledge with a carpet of close-cropped grass and a few boulders manning the observation post turned into an invitation to stop for routine prayer, confessions nezviratidzo.
A college girl started feeling dreamy and crept to a boulder and sat on it looking down at all the elders.
Her mother crept to the boulder on all-fours, tagged at her garment and whispered: “Iwe wapindwa neiko iwe? Ibva apo.”
The Pastor requested rwiyo rwenyasha and the girl got up, thrust a fist into the moonlit sky and chanted: “Icho!”
She caught everyone completely by surprise.
“Pamberi nehondo!
Pamberi neChimurenga!
Pamberi neZANU!
Pamberi naPresident Robert Mugabe!”
And before the flock could recover from the added surprise, the girl started to sing:
“Tinofa tichipinda muZimbabwe
Kudzamara tinosvika kuna Zambezi
Kudzamara tinosvika kuna Zambezi
Nehanda komborera
Vari muZimbabwe…”
The Pastor spoke in tongues: “Shimanda … Shimanda!”
A woman joined him, followed by a man and another woman.
Then there was just pandemonium on the mountain slope.
After lots of haranguing, the Pastor moved to cast the ‘demon’ out of the college girl.
The girl warned: “Don’t even dare!”
The Pastor gestured for others to subdue her.
Two men and a woman moved forward.
The girl took a masculine fighting stance and let go a well-aimed fist that caught one of the men by the cheek and he staggered.
The flock hushed up as one.
The punch was like nothing you would expect from a girl
The girl turned to face the second man.
The second man hesitated and looked at the Pastor for instructions.
The Pastor, still speaking in tongues, gestured for more support to subdue the girl.
He chanted: “I order you to leave right now in the mighty name of Jesus!”
The girl smiled and turned to face the Pastor.
A man cursed: “Kujaidza madhimoni,” and charged at the girl.
The girl side-stepped the charge and the man crashed into a cluster of female prayer warriors who cursed, pushed and shoved him from their midst.
It was the man seeking God’s favoured seat in the Legislative Assembly.
The girl looked down at the fallen man and shook her head.
She remarked: “Dzungu …” and burst out laughing.
The laugh was infectious and half of the flock laughed with her.
The shamed aspirant to the Legislative Assembly dusted himself and returned to his seat among the shocked men.
The girl’s eyes followed him like a hawk’s and, matter-of-factly, she said: “Kare kangu ndaiuraya zvakadai izvi.”
The Honourable Member felt slighted.
The girl extended her challenge to the whole flock: “Pane achiri kuda kuti pwee here?”
The old guide suggested: “Tadii tataura nemweya uyu tanzwa kuti ndiyani uye kuti ari kudei pamwana uyu?”
The big woman objected: “Why negotiate nemweya yetsvina when we can just cast them out using holy ghost fire?”
The girl swept her hand at the flock and said: “Give this mother a chance to try that herself.”
A young man spoke out in support of the big woman: “I suggest we simply cast the demon out using holy ghost fire. Let’s take the American example. They never negotiate with terrorists.”
She turned to face the zealous young man and challenged: “I am all yours. Cast me out.”
The big woman looked at the Pastor now whispering in tongues. He was looking at her but did not seem to notice her.
Without the Pastor’s permission, a small woman asked: “Ndiwe ani?”
The girl sat down, her back resting against a boulder.
She looked at the small woman and said: “Now you are talking.”
The rest of the flock set their undivided attention on the girl.
The girl said: “Ndini Comrade Gandidzanwa.”
The she convulsed once and said no more. The flock waited but nothing more came out of her.
The old guide prodded: “You said you are Comrade Gandidzanwa?”
The girl noticed that the question was directed at her and asked, “Inini? What are you saying? When did I say that?”
A prayer warrior who was not serious said: “Paita network problem. We must keep trying.”
The uncanny analogy drew both laughter and relief.
The Pastor stood up to lead the way. The flock followed suit.
The girl asked someone to lend her a hand getting back to her feet and someone remarked: “Sister imi be serious handiti? Only a while ago you were beating up men and now you are asking us to help you get back to your feet.”
To be continued…
