Face down, eyes closed hands held together. It’s time for prayer. But not any other prayer, it is the prayer of repentance and soul searching. But before all this my pastor tells the people that it is important to get right with God before you per take of the Lord’s table. In my head I can see it. The act in vivid images. It replays over and over again. My hands can feel the intensity of the caress, my chest now fells the heavy breathing, her breasts on my chest.
It was heaven come down. But that did not change the fact that it was sin. Now here I am, confused. I cannot lie to myself that I have no guilt. I now have to put on the face of a saint. I stand up confidently and walk to the altar. I receive the elements in utter most humility. But if my mind were to be opened, it is a den of iniquity. As we wait to per take, tears ooze from my eyes as I see my lady struck in shame. She dares not stand. At that moment the intensity of what I did hits me. My hands fail me. It is too much.
All I know is, to my peers, I am the hero. To the church, a saint. On the other hand my lady was seen as cheap, loose a spoiler of people’s children. Yet in my mind I knew she was stronger than I. She was none of what people said.
At that moment the elements of Holy Communion fall to the ground. I rise up and quickly make my way out of the church. Every eye on me and I dare not look behind. As I walk out, I recount the experiences.
My lady had asked me to stop, but I heard none of it. I caressed her and left her vulnerable to her passion and slowly made my way through. And to her I was the savior. That’s all she needed to quench the fire within. But now I know better. I was loose, cheap, and manipulative. I deserve not the title of a hero in the eyes of my friend neither a saint in church. For I am worse than a heathen.
The thought tormented me. I wished to be absent from reality. As soon as I had stepped out of the church I felt a soft tap on my back. I wished that it was my lady. All I wanted is for her to know that I still loved her. That no matter our actions she had the same face value to me. I wanted to hug her and kiss her on the cheek, just for good measure of my assurance.
I turned, only to see the face of elder Musa. His face had worry painted all over. “My son, what is wrong?” This was the moment. I knew very well if my secret went out then the church would be disappointed. What I have not mentioned to you is that I was the youth chairperson. “I am unwell,” I said, “I fell feeble and weak.” There it was. Just as we men do. We never accept, we thrive in denial.
Finding scape goats has become our specialisation. At the event we strip a lady in the streets, the reason is cheap and ridiculous. We will blame it on the dressing. Some time back I was talking to some youth. One of the young men asked whether it is right to strip ladies. I jumped to interject with a no, little did I know what was in store. He let me finish, allowed me to hold some moral authority, let me display the content of my civil tolerance, he let me say ‘No’ then he opened a Bible (not his for it looked too well preserved) to Ezekiel 16:37
… I will gather them against you from all around and will strip you in front of them and they will see your nakedness…
The context that the particular verse was written was an address to the Israelites and not one person. It was a symbol that was used for illustrative purposes. This was part of a prophecy being told following the detestable practices they had done before the Lord.
This to me was a statement of denial. We deny the fact that what we do is wrong by sugar coating it as the lady’s mistake. Finding justification even in the most unimaginable ways. We deny that striping is masculinity at its loose point. The question is what is playing at the back of their minds? They even inspire others just to strip a lady for fun in a bus and leave her to the demise of her passion. Yet we are not loose yet? But I digress.
“This is the consequence of opening up legs to every to Dick and Harry…” This I overheard as my lady was being discussed by some women who claimed to be the watch dogs of the youth. My lady was pregnant and I well knew that I was the father. Yet I would not come to say that I fathered the child. They humiliated her, treated her as an outcast yet I remained their darling, all because I had denied the fact that I was the cause of the now seen effect.
My mother had even mobilised my advocates. Her friends had even gathered to petition the injustice carried out against me by the claimed rumor. To them I was righteous and holy. A servant of the Most High, but they had no idea I was living a lie.
Don’t we live a lie? We have moved out opened our zippers to many, fulfilled the full course of action yet we cannot accommodate the responsibility and have to live a lie. It baffles me most times when a Member of Parliament dies and one or several more ladies emerge from hiding claiming that the departed was their husband. To the public he had one wife. The struggles continues on for years as the ladies contest to get a portion of the property. They may even spend years in court arguing that the late never had another wife and the other argues the vice versa. The arguments go deeper than just a question of how many wives he had yet lied to the public. The question is all about living a lie.
A good legacy will be spoilt by the little thing we choose to ignore. Just because we have gotten few extra coins we choose to go and have fun. We entertain ladies. But wait. The living lie is not only in hiding the actions that you have. It goes to the extents of ones beliefs. The idea that women are a tool of entertainment is a huge lie. Women are the weaker species is another lie. Just because men are masculine in nature does not make the lady a weaker species who is to be manipulated under the clauses of submission. If women were a weaker species then they are not worth to be our mates. The late Myles Monroe in one of his books the purpose and power of men mentions that if men think that whey are better than the ladies then they are wrong. For ladies are more intelligent, they are more committed to spiritual matters.
The lie is deeply rooted in the ideologies of our enculturation. The other day I wandered into a hall where some of the youth were seated, deep in debate. I hadn’t meant to but I needed somewhere to think. One of them, the debate leader, asked my opinion on the matter at hand. “Culture is important, but we need to get to a point that we question the actions being taken,” he said in response to some statement or the other. “Evaluation of our actions in culture do not undermine culture but instead it helps us add more that makes our lives better”, he proceeded. I don’t know, I have my own actions to evaluate and lie to contend with.
Every day I lived the lie all I saw was the first fruits of my loins, the growth of a gap between the fruit of my loins, my blood, my love and myself all due to a lie and not accepting that it is due to my loose actions that all this had happened. Now I felt cheap, worthless. How could I call myself a man yet I cannot accept the mistakes and loose choices that I made. I could not continue with the cheap decisions that I used to make. The first being; I chose to satisfy my urges knowing well that I could still live on even when I denied myself. At that moment it was easier to satisfy my urges than it was to abstain. I had then chosen to lie and live the lie all because it was easy. Isn’t that what many men think?
I made a foolish choice. I had to accept it or die with the guilt.
Before I accepted that I was responsible for the pregnancy I had thought that it’s only my lady that bore the mark. Just as many men think to this day. Just because they will have physical display as a symbol of the wrong choices, does not mean that the man gets no mark. As a matter of fact the man is at a worse position since his is not outward.
Till this day I bear the mark of a cheap and loose decision I made. It is time as men we took a stand and decided that the time for making cheap decisions is over and now it is time for sober decisions.
I don’t know what to do right now. For a life that seems so pure I’m carrying around so much filth. But You already know that, don’t You? You know everything being God and all that.
By the way, do you mind if I sit down? My knees are beginning to hurt.