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Aunty Jerusha, my pious relative who always reminds me that she wiped my bum when I was a tot, has always complained that I am pagan. I don't differ with her. Instead, I remind her that the man who helped Jesus carry the cross was a pagan.
To set the record straight, I firmly believe in all true religions. To me, the man who worships at the mosque, the church and the temple is doing the same thing- facing the light. It's only that their light comes from different supreme lamps. Their faiths, however different, are like rivers and lakes and ponds; they all contain water. Just like all true religions contain truth.
To that end, Easter season for me is a solemn period to do penance for the many times I fall out of the narrow path. I also read the Bible-one hell of a work of literature- for its timeless lessons.
In the history of written literature, no book matches the Bible in delightful multidimensional characters. One example is the unnamed socialite from Bethany, who washed Messiah's feet with expensive perfume, dried the holy legs with her hair and gave the son of man a tingling foot massage.
The Easter period in the Bible has Simon from Cyrene, who one of my wag friends calls 'Simon from Kiria-ini.' It's possible he was black but that's not explicitly stated in the Bible. What's definite is that he was a pagan-he might even have been coming from a kanuthu den in backstreet Jerusalem. That didn't prevent destiny from bestowing upon him the noble duty of bearing the Messiah's cross.
No fellows intrigue me more than the two thieves who were crucified side by side with Jesus. I am even surprised that there is no Hollywood blockbuster telling their story. Since it's an artiste's duty to retell untold stories, I dug out what could have actually happened. The two chaps were hustlers of the day. Let's call them Maish and Kim. After learning that Passover was coming up, the two went to Kamukunji area of Jerusalem, sourced shirts and other wares and started shouting 'shati mia mbiri mbiri!'
The Jewish shopkeepers weren't impressed by the mullah these chaps were making right outside their shops. So they bribed the kanjos of the day-Roman centurions to have them arrested. The kanjos whisked them to a kangaroo court where the verdict of death was issued to them for selling non-kosher goods. As they were being frog-marched to Golgotha, Maish called their friend Njoro and asked him to Mpesa them some money to bribe the kanjos.
'Usitume kwa hii,iko na Fuliza.Tuma kwa ile ingine.' Maish shouted into his kabambe phone fastened together with a greasy rubber band.
Maish then informed the kanjos that money was coming and there was no need to worry. After an hour, he squinted into his kabambe-Njoro hadn't sent anything. Again, Maish called Njoro who told him he was looking for float. As the sun set towards Golgotha hills, the angry soldiers started preparing the cross and warned Maish to stop joking. For the last time, Maish called Njoro-but found his phone off. 'Hii imeenda!' Maish told his friend Kim as a Roman soldier hammered a thick nail into his palm.
