Prophets, miracle workers and charlatans

I was in a supermarket in Nakuru earlier this week and I noticed a large number of women wearing funny looking head gear and long, loose-fitting dresses. They were walking around the supermarket with a pious demeanour and a judgmental look for the rest of us.

I asked a friend what the occasion was that we had people with similar attires in town. He cured my ignorance by telling me that the ‘Prophet’ was in town. Prophet Owuor that is.

That same evening, I saw on the news that the highway between Nakuru and Njoro turn-off was closed for his entourage of high performance vehicles to speed through. After all, the man of God had quite a few miracles to attend to and any delay could have led to loss of life or unnecessary suffering for those waiting to be healed.

The motorcade looked better than the presidential one, what with police outriders, a fleet of Range Rovers and Mercedes Benzes, among other vehicles. And they were breaking all traffic rules. Where is NTSA when one needs it?

This is the kind of behaviour that can land the average person in a lot of trouble with the government. But not for the prophet. This is arrant nonsense. How can the government allow an individual to inconvenience thousands of fellow Kenyans just because he can and has the money to splash around, hiring police cars and bodyguards?

What kind of impunity is this? I thought it was only the presidential motorcade and the occasional ambulance and fire engine that have the right of way on our roads. But, not in Kenya. Prophets, it seems, also have their way on our roads.

Away from Owuor and his impunity on the road. I once witnessed a miracle worker cure all manner of maladies, real or imagined. As I watched his show (for it was a show), I couldn’t help but pity the masses that were shouting themselves hoarse whenever a ‘miracle’ was performed. The blind saw. The deaf heard. And the crippled threw their crutches in jubilation as they hobbled on stage. There was even a token caucasian to lend credence to the entire spectacle.

The man of god was calling out for the blind, deaf or anyone suffering from any disease to come to the front and they would be cured instantly. Based on the number of musclemen surrounding the stage, I suspected that a genuinely blind person, or a genuine person with disability who attempted to access the stage would have been bundled back to the remotest part of the stadium forthwith.

I believe a little coaching could have taken place before one headed to the stage, including how to behave when you have the power of sight for the first time in your life. Or, how to throw the clutches jubilantly in the air, crawling on stage for the first few seconds before the realisation hits you that you can actually walk; it is only then that you sprint from one end of the stage to the other.

The flock of sheep (ha!) that follow charlatans who claim to be miracle workers are nothing more than sheep. In fact, they give sheep a bad name.

I have nothing against people who are religious (or not): Your faith and religion, or lack thereof, is none of my business. My faith and religion, or lack thereof, is none of your business. But, when reality clashes with charlatanism, I would choose reality any time.

There was a time I would engage anyone and everyone on matters religion but I grew out of my obsession with the realisation that matters of faith and religion are individual choices. Of course, I engage some friends in intellectual jousting on religion just for intellectual stimulation. But we do not judge each other.

I always wonder: Why can’t these miracle workers go to hospitals and cure all the people suffering there? I am sure the government would appreciate such a gesture since it would have budgetary implications for the health sector.