This drunk may just stagger through heaven’s gates

By Ted Malanda

To be honest, I have always felt that God was a little too harsh with Moses. True, by pretending to be the one who stopped the waters of River Jordan from flowing, Moses usurped powers that clearly did not belong to him.

It is almost like the time Dr Alfred Mutua issued a statement on behalf of the Judiciary. He received a thorough tongue lashing from my learned friends the next day. Someone even called him a busybody.

Anyway, for that small transgression, God showed Canaan to Moses but told him, "Ng’o — hufiki!" Now, I know the Lord doesn’t like busybodies like me attempting to pass judgment. Still, it’s my humble submission that compared to Moses, King David was a very bad boy.

Here is a crook who pinched another guy’s wife. As if that wasn’t bad enough, he ensured the poor chap was planted in the frontline of a bloody battle with Philistines — or some other Mungiki of that era — where he consequently got murdered. And that’s just sin one.

But King David was smart. Every time a prophet was dispatched to explain why and just how angry God was with his most recent bad manners, David would express his remorse in the most artistic manner — smearing himself with ash, discarding his royal robes for tatters, crying aloud for days, you know, the works. It helped that the dude could sing like Nyota Ndogo and strum a guitar like Musaimo. God just loved him. In fact, He lovingly described him as a "man after my own heart"!

And that’s the odd thing about God. I suspect He sets very high standards for serious people, like priests for instance. One little mistake and their pious lives are flushed down the drain. But for clowns like King David, He is always too willing to forgive, so long as they appear before a truth and reconciliation committee and seek forgiveness.

Last week, a drinking mate at my local staggered home after a swallow and died— peacefully, I like to hope, in his sleep. I never knew his name. He never quarrelled, fought, insulted or allowed his hands to trespass on the barmaid’s bottom. He paid his bills, passed a few rounds when he could and allowed us to partake of his choma.

Maybe, just maybe, he might stroll through the pearly gates. Somebody say, Amen…