I do not know what God does for me, but women…ah!
I can see a son of mine (Maziri) who comes from a woman's womb!
Three beautiful babies of mine come from women!
The gentle sex, i.e. women have for Phiri another good reputation. They relieve
my stress more than alcohol ever would! The fairer sex would certainly relieve my anxieties far more faster than a prayer to God would!
GOD REFUSES TO
STOMACH PHIRI’S DEIFICATION OF WOMEN
I have never even for once never doubted the power of women in my
life. However, the competition has hotted up between the two
parties (God and Women) who are both vying for a piece of me.
This competition has nowhere else been better-characterised
than in the last weekend (2013 November 22 Friday till Sunday 24th November).
THE AMBIVALENT
RELATIONSHIP BETWEEN GOD AND PHIRI
Just to first get things straight between me and my readership, I have this strange belief that God is one silly Spirit.
Isn't this the self-same God who allowed a thief called Jacob to rule the House of Israel when in fact Esau
was, as the elder brother, supposed to lord it?!
God allowed Murderer Moses to take from Continent Africa into the Palestine,
the only truly religious nation on earth: the Jews (Maybe God was fighting fire
by fire because I Phiri/Pharaoh/Fire was apparently even from the stone age a most
vicious King who, during the exodus of the Jews, was still ruling the entire
earth with the hand that took human lives for expendables: but somebody else tell me just how else could I rule stone-age man who were for all intent and purposes all-savages?).
Hey, God! Hold on! I
am not King Phiri/Pharaoh of biblical times!
I am only Goodman Manyanya Phiri and a citizen of the Republic of South
Africa! Why follow me, Man?
I mean, I fail to understand why a rake like me has been given the divine powers you have given me! Why am I so blest? I hate freebies, you know
that, God?
Thou has given me these divine powers to pray for those who
desire success with their careers. I have
been doing this for more than a decade already as a pastime, and then one day in my army life I decided to
open a cc from my passion and my pastime (who doesn’t want to augment his lieutenant-colonel’s salary with a
modicum of increase?)
And so as you God probably know, the Republic of South
Africa’s law allows not a state employee like Phiri to do private business.
However, I think there are shortcuts to this law (You, God,
are the author of all these unsavory and possibly criminal shortcuts to the
standing law and even Thine Law "Thou Shall Not Steal": ask Esau who is still weeping and seething in Heaven for not being the Father
of Israel as the elder brother should have been over Jacob the sissy who could not hunt down a rat but stayed always at home with the mother cooking gruel).
My own Jacobite shortcut to financial power always lay for
me waiting with God’s blessings in the South African army. All we have to
do as soldiers to run a business and make more money
over and above receiving fat cheques (even thirteenth ones) from the South African
state is to write a letter to your general and pray for permission TO RUN A
BUSINESS!
And, God, if you visit my general’s heart in such a way that
she or he agrees (the general must put it in writing though) you do go out and trade!
Thereafter, Africa is yours (financially speaking)!
The world is yours! And anybody can fly out of China, Russia,
the USA, or even from as far afield as cold Alaska to South Africa to come and transact on
your business as a South African!
God, but that is but what I exactly did some ten years
ago. If I had one, below stands a
letter from my general to that effect.
That, then, My God, is how Lieutenant Colonel Phiri came to
be known by practically all schools that matter in the Mpumalanga Province (the
high schools in question can be easily named if Thou insists, My God).
The unintended consequence to my dabbling into business (God
you know this better than I) is I developed this Casanova habit of mine.. my stint at some three schools over this
weekend (2013 November 22 Friday till Sunday 24th November) is particularly poignant.
What happened over the last one weekend is I had three beautiful
women attractive fighting for my sexual attention: all women were school
teachers and if they can fall so easily if erotically fall head over heels with a middle-aged man like me, what do they teach their pupils about casual sex, huh, God?
I particularly loved this one light skinned teacher, a bundle of jokes
which she was: she has no qualm cracking a joke in a staffroom full of male teachers
and her joke would call a spade a spade,
calling a penis a penis. Well, I kind of
like people who call a spade a spade
and never beat about the bush!
Then there was also this Swazi-speaking teacher, buxom,
short, with highly pronounced hips. She 'does it' for me, God, so much that my scrawny and 'un-buttocked' niece was to too frequently see her and exclaim: “Gosh, Uncle Goodman:
you like these FAT women, huh?”
‘Fat’ is for women a pejorative term, hence I would prefer ‘buxom’
for most of the time over fat ladies particularly if they are my women. And that is how I prepared or pivoted my counter-attack for my sexual preferences.
“Listen, Girl and My Niece! The Xhosa-speaking school teacher of jokes is
no fat-ass, is she?!” I protested to my over-observant niece.
“Also, Watch your tongue,
please if you still value your place in Uncle’s good books for I have in my life experience found fat people equally far more large-hearted than you bags of bones!” I in a stentorian voice
reemphasized to my niece who stood surprised over what for sure sounded like one
more evidence of my thin skin.
Over the past weekend the ladies came in droves. But there is this instrument of mine that them to me drove! I am good, you know!
There was for Phiri also this third lady who was planning to
consummate my insatiable sexual plate over the same weekend. And this is
the very woman who made me make contact with whom or them I otherwise have no
truck with: GOD!
Who knows God?
What is God?
Does He/She exist?
The lady o so sexually-smitten over Phiri goes to declare to
(of all people) a man of God about her burning sexual desire for me. This is Reverend NathI Ngcobo!
And so my friend, Reverend Nathi Ngcobo, an Army Chaplain in
Pretoria (reputed for being a Phiri lookalike) rocks up with this awkward message for me from sexually-crazed her! You know of course how these male servants of God go around pretending
they never get erections!
“Manyanya,” begins Reverend Ngcobo gingerly, if counting everything he does including words he says.
“She loves, this woman does you, Phiri.
“I have no clue," he continues. "Where lies the real target of her amorous life, but I beseech you Phiri to choose, and choose carefully
if she is the real one for you.”
The priest then offered me a thousand finger-nail-sized women–on-the-hunt-for-men
photos on a reel and I was to have a
nightmare of a time later trying to
return the roll to its original circular neatness and position after what play
I did on the projector to possibly see one of my
future brides rather than the school teacher who had left my chaplain in sheer dubiety insofar as her true sexual feelings towards Phiri (remember that sex is meant to drive relationships towards serious-minded baby-making relationships but it is no source for vaginal or penile entertainment!)
That aside, it seems to me
like Reverend Ngcobo was (over
and above playing my secret matchmaker) equally secretly hooking me up
with other preachers so as to make my divine gift of
praying for people’s carriers prosper, if to be used by the Church.
So even as early as Friday the 25th there was a
number of prayer sessions where my divine gift for praying were amply used by a pair
of taciturn and non-censorious preachers…they
did not mind my alcoholism nor did they care a hoot about the fact that I had
only a day or so before stolen an expensive watch belonging to one of my women’s
lovers! The wristwatch has just look too similar to my Sterling timepiece to ignore it!
As the prelates marveled on, I would pray for a person
while they watched and it is well-known
that those I ever pray for will thereafter never doubt the veracity
in the Book of Mark, Chapter 11, Verse 24 which reads: “[Believe that you have
received].” But perhaps to be fair to the psychology and entirety of the teachings of that nasty nigger called Jesus Christ who went about overturning people's tables in church and believe in the power of mind of matter, let me quote an entire swathe of Marks's Chapter 11.
Phiri's work for God over the past weekend though was thrown a spanner into the works by one of my lover teachers who rocks
up as early as Friday to be prayed for at that church (I am of course reserving
the denomination for fear of its
excommunication for using a drunk and an adulterer like me to work for God).
Now, the school teacher-cum-lover of mine wants to be prayed
for in order to become South Africa’s greatest teacher! However, I am sure she was unpleasantly surprised to
discover that in the sanctuary and holy corners where these prayers are conducted by
me in the unobtrusive presence of those two priests,
the man to lay hands on her was nobody else but the very man whose hands
had circumvented and encircled her bum
in the altogether only a day or two
before! Mind you, the conference geared towards motivating school teachers had
kicked off from as early as Thursday 21st November 2013!
I am therefore not the least surprised that even though she received the prayer on Friday
and the laying of hands occurred accordingly, her faith in receiving her wishes
from God never stood.
As a result, would you guess what?
She of course pitched up for yet another session in laying of hands by me on Saturday!
You will forgive me, Reader, but after working for God for two consecutive evenings… and God
is definitely not my favourite Shining Star… I succumbed to the desire to drown myself in six pints of my favourite Hansa
laager (Hansa is for me far less potent with hangover than ‘Black Label’ beer,
far more intellectually agreeable on the palate than ciders (for ‘what are
magnesium and alcohol combined in my system going to do to my chemical engine
called the body?’). I love Hansa also
for the fact that it is currently far cheaper than Hofbrau, Heineken and all
these versions of any man’s alcoholic suicide act: Beers).
I must have quaffed too many of my otherwise ‘benign’ Hansas
that particular Saturday for even as Sunday evening greeted my schedule, my breath still ponged of
alcohol, or so a friend must have told me.
But Sunday evening remained one more prayer session where my holy,
albeit drunken, hand would be required by God and his servants…God my God can’t
you see I am still drunk? Why do you after all want to use a drunkard for your mission on earth? You're crazy, God, huh?
God seems for me to be still alive only a bit too deaf for
my liking for he did not only refuse to reply me, but He eschewed the act of
striking me dead during the act of playing one of the saints in His service
while there is no greater sinner in the world than I!
Indeed, young South Africans who wanted to achieve their
ambitions through career success and hard work are calling for Phiri to pray
for them!
Yes, prayers were for bright careers, but as indicated
already, careening before the career prayers were the molecules of the alcohol
I had ingested the previous day! The
atomic materials (full of smell of course) were swerving in and around the atmosphere and
at one point I prayed to an un-liked God the wind would blow from the direction
of the two supervising preachers as I was in turn supplicating for my dame-cum-convert-dream-towards-South-Africa's-best-school-teacher.
God must have obliged because the two priests
minded not my smelly drunkenness but they seemed to assay with my prayers that
the convert's wishes were destined to come true as her faith was working for
her.
It is the poor woman we were as a church in the first place trying to help that
finally sold out my frailties as the biblical imbiber of wine! B***h, I still say even as I write this: WHAT
ON EARTH DO YOU WANT OUT OF YOUR OTHERWISE BORING SCHOOL-TEACHING LIFE? I am here to pray for your better success,
remember?
The teacher was going to have none of my whatever-crooked-mind.
She immediately broke free from my praying embrace over her.
She ran to the
two preachers and declared me an impostor for being a drunk and man of God at the same time and of
course she hid the fact that we had together done other things more sensitive
than drunkenness.
I approached the two men of God to explain.
They backed off from me, like two soldiers on a drill, only
in reverse.
Since I never give up on any project even if it kills me, I
kept on approaching them one of which was berry-brown and the other a bit
darker if in the sense of the swarthier juniper berries.
The servants of God kept on backing off from my approaching self and
essentially refusing to accept my plea for a chance to express my reason for privately remaining a sinful man, God's work notwithstanding.
However, there was something pretty big awaiting the two
restive servants of God. They were
destined for sudden death for spiting a Phiri!
And here is how the divine fatalities were supposed to be realized.
Anybody who knows Mpumalanga Province of South Africa (I am
currently visiting the Province from Gauteng Province’s Mamelodi Township)
shall never forget about the dongas, gulleys and cliffs that spice the otherwise totally beautiful province AND THE TWO PREACHERS WERE REVERSING INTO ONE OF THOSE CHASMS!
Talking of which Mpumalanga damages to the earth's surface natural or man-made, over and above the dongas,
there are also humongous potholes not only to be found in this self-same province…a
perpetual tourist attraction for this part of the land…but there is always the breath-taking
God's Window to be found in this self-same Province of The Rising Sun.
And since the twosome were children of God, they surely were heading for
that scary God-window prior to plummeting down to their own destruction, the
amateur preachers!
“You idiots!” I shouted at them just before they disappeared down the God’s Window cliff. “You are heading for sure death the way you
are stepping backwards, Buddies and not even God will save you for your
foolishness! Hear me out, will you? OR ELSE DIE!”
“You bet?” one of them religious Smart Alecs responded, backward
gait unmitigated.
“But why don’t you, Brothers, want to listen to me as to why
I drank too much alcohol yesterday?” I asked genuinely concerned.
“Why are you not
prepared to listen as why I still remain emotionally attached to this woman new
convert to career success in South Africa?
Would you rather die through some godly suicide rather than listen to
your fellow human being?” I asked as the first guy’s boot trampled out and onto the chasm
of God’s Window (hitherto fenced with some steel rail in order to prevent
overexcited tourists and over-depressed neurotics from plunging to their own deaths).
“O so you are worried about our fate on this cliff,
Manyanya?” asked the more impudent of the two men of God and men I still despised for their
cold shoulder towards me. “Let’s show
you a godly thing or two, Mr Phiri!”
I was amazed as a sheet of invisible glass was extended to
the reversing pair, and they continued to walk backwards over the cliff! They showed me that God is still alive for
those who believe in Him or Her.
I told them: “Please spare me all these shows and godly
pomp! I have read enough of them in the
Bible not to believe in them.”
As I uttered those words, the two men came back from their
glassy safety net over God’s Window.
There was a huge explosion and sparks that flew all around me in that benighted
moment. I only remember the booming
sound and the red sparks that flew all around me.
Obviously God and his two men were trying to impress me with
their powers or more preferably, their magic.
I still doubt if God exists, but if he does, I remain His friend
or Hers, if she be female.
That is how the dream ended and I realized when I woke that I had justfinished my first night with my three-year-old daughter Tamara after about amonth’s estrangement with each other while she was with an over-loving paternalgreat aunt of hers who was refusing to let go of a beautiful thing I broughtinto the world 10th day of the 10th Month the 10thyear of our century and millennium 10th minute before the 10thhour South African Time in Pretoria!
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