At the foot of the mountain, preacher was only available to a grieving granny at a fee

A section of Karatina Town.{Standard]

My tour of the "murima" couldn't be complete without detouring through Karatina, the bastion of former Deputy Prezzo Rigathi Gachagua aka Riggy G. I wanted to hear what the "ground," was saying, given the regular invocation of this phenomenon in our political discourse.

And I was fortunate because Karatina is one of those places where you just phone and say I'm in the hood, and doors are opened for you. We were welcomed into the home of an elderly but well-connected couple. They are what local media might call prominent local businessman and woman.

In the event, it's the lady of the house who received us. Two years ago, she narrated, at the height of the political campaigns, local politicians assembled at a local church and reportedly raised Sh7m to furnish the church.

Most of it was in cash, she says, chuckling that she didn't realise a million shillings is such a huge pile of cash. But that's where the cash ended: on display in the baskets it was collected in.

To date, she said, the preacherman said the politicians asked to have their money back. No, the church did not reject the offering; it's the giver of the money who asked for it. And so, it was given back. "We still use the plastic seats we wanted replaced," the lady revealed.

That's not where matters ended. There was death in her family, and she reached out to her preacher to pay the final ministrations. The preacher said he wasn't available. But the persistent lady reached out to her church elder. The preacher acquiesced.

On the day of the burial, the lady went on, the preacher said he'd only come if he received a "transport" allowance of Sh10,000 paid to facilitate his movement, even though he's based in the township. "I still go to church," the lady said softly. "But my heart is not there."

That's what happens when money becomes the measure of a woman's worth, when men are willing to do anything for cash. Fortunately, given the depth of our rot, we don't have too far left to sink to.