Wednesday, January 27, 2010

Kafupi Reborn

Kafupi Reborn

Last night I turned on the TV, and there was a presenter saying ‘We now go to the Holy Cathedral of St Barabas in Ndola, where the notorious thief Kafupi Mupupu is officiating at the funeral of his departed relatives.’

The camera now took us to the church scene where little Kafupi, all dressed up as a priest in a long cassock, with arms raised to heaven, was swaying in front of a row of coffins, as the congregation swayed in harmony with his holy gyrations.

‘Oh Lord,’ implored the Reverend Kafupi, his back to the congregation, ‘we ask that our dear departed friends can be born again, just as I was born again after my troubles and transgressions.’ Now he swung round dramatically to face his audience. ‘Yes, I too was born again. I was once a common thief, down and out, and before the judge. But I turned to the Lord and asked for his guidance.’

‘Hallelujah!’ sang the congregation. ‘Praise the Lord!’

‘And the Lord spoke to me,’ continued Kafupi, as he walked up and down in front of the altar, followed by his devoted wife Plundera, who kept lifting his long cassock to prevent him from tripping and falling down flat. ‘And the Lord spoke to me, saying Read the New Testament and ye shall be born again.’

‘Amen,’ sang the congregation.

‘And I read the story of Jesus and I saw its meaning,’ declared Kafupi. ‘I saw that Judas had been paid thirty pieces of silver to reveal to the Roman soldiers the whereabouts of Jesus at Gethsemani. And now at last I realised the meaning of the scripture. Jesus should have paid the soldiers a hundred pieces of silver to save himself.’

‘We can all be saved!’ chanted the congregation.

‘I read the book and I wept for Jesus,’ said Kafupi, as Plundera took off her chitenge to mop the tears flowing down his face. ‘If only Jesus had given a brown envelope to Pontius Pilate, he could have received a favourable judgement. If only Jesus had given a new palace to King Herod, he could have lived to a ripe old age and written many more entertaining parables. If only Jesus had offered the Pharisees a controlling share in his new church, with no windfall tax, he could have grown as rich as Caesar.’

‘As rich as Nyamasoya,’ chanted the congregation.

‘So the Lord showed me the way,’ continued Kafupi, ‘and I am born again. Even without the inconvenience of crucifixion, my innocence has been restored. My heart, which was so wicked and shrivelled, overnight became good and strong!’

‘A miracle!’ exclaimed the audience, as the mighty Plundera picked him up and gave him a big kiss.

Now the Reverend Kafupi pointed at the row of coffins. ‘And so I come here to this funeral today, as the one anointed by God to resurrect our departed friends.’

‘The Apostle of God has spoken,’ chanted the congregation.

‘In the first coffin,’ said the Reverend Kafupi, ‘we have the recently deceased Judiciary, which has now been privatised, and is born again as Instant Justice!’

‘Praise the Lord!’ sang the congregation. ‘Give us pangas and we shall do His will!’

‘In the second coffin,’ intoned the Reverend Kafupi, as Plundera sprinkled Holy Water upon him, ‘we have the Police Service, which is hereby born again as the Party Savages.’

‘Vengeance is ours, ’ sang the congregation.

‘In the third coffin we have the Constitution,’ declared Kafupi, ‘which is due to be burnt to a cinder by a new parastatal, the National Cremation Corporation. After the Constitution has gone up in smoke, it will rise up to heaven, and then descend on the third day as a black suffocating cloud, called the One Party State.’

‘What goes up must come down,’ sang the congregation.

Now little Kafupi climbed upon the fourth coffin and did a little dance, in which he was joined by his huge wife, the voluptuous Plundera. As both of their pairs of high heels clattered upon the coffin, Kafupi shouted ‘Here lies the remains of The Law, which will be born again as two twins, the Law for the Poor and the Law for the Rich.’

‘We must take special care of the poor,’ sang the congregation.

‘This fifth coffin,’ said Kafupi triumphantly, ‘is stuffed with money stolen from the National Pension Fund.’

‘Where are the pensioners?’ asked the congregation.

‘Be joyful,’ laughed Kafupi, ‘they’re already in heaven.’

‘Hallelujah! Honour thy father and thy mother,’ sang the congregation.

‘And finally,’ said the Reverend Kafupi, ‘in this sixth coffin lies Democracy, who tried to cause chaos and anarchy by taking excessive liberties with her freedom of expression, and was therefore gang raped by the Official Rapists of the Movement for Molestation and Defilement. In order to prevent such indiscipline in future, Democracy will be born again as Dictatorship.’

Sara turned to me in disbelief. ‘Are they worshipping God or the Devil?’

‘Hard to tell,’ I laughed. ‘In this church, God seems to have been born again as the Devil.’
‘But in a Christian nation,’ Sara wondered, ‘how many will vote for the Devil?’

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