I loved Brother Nick! He was twenty-six when I joined the group. By then my preparations for my final A-level examinations had been hampered by a bout of chicken pox coupled with hives. I was out for one and a half months, switching between hospitals and my bedroom back home.
It didn’t help that I had wasted my first year in Advanced level immersed in Fifa 14 and Game of Thrones. The idea was to fully lock in in my second year and go for that slam-dunk fifteen points. Failproof, right? But there was that spanner in the works.
I attended one of the youth prayer sessions, two months before the examinations. Nick was there. After the session he asked me to stick around for a chat. I reluctantly stayed because every minute counted with the exams drawing closer and closer.
Nick told me a dark cloud was hanging over me. Not in a prophetic way! The worry on my face was clear, if you looked closely. I told him about my exams coming up and how chicken pox and hives were affecting my preparations.
“You survived the worst part, mfana wangu. Just go and finish the job!”
And that was exactly what I needed. No fake advice, no over-the-top motivation or prayer. Just that was enough.
I went back to school, shook myself up and stopped feeling sorry for myself, and got on with my work. I didn’t get the slam dunk I was hoping for but I performed fairly well. Years rolled by. Exams came and went. Engineering school followed. Then work. Before I knew it, nearly a decade had passed since that conversation with Nick.
I walked into Hometown Pub and Grill, as was my ritual, for a few pints of Zambezi before going home. I couldn’t believe who I saw in there. The bar was close to empty but seated directly by the bartender’s desk was Nick, a quart of Castle lager right in front of him… It wasn’t uncommon to see a member from church drinking—I mean, look at me. But I had always felt Nick was different. He was dedicated, a man after God’s heart. The model we were told to follow in our childhood. ‘Hamuonewo Nick here?’ was my mother’s signature line every time I embarrassed her with my shenanigans. All of that was running through my mind as I fixed my gaze on him. He caught it and waved back at me. I haven’t really changed, have I? It was almost 10 years since we last had met.
“Wa-wadii younger!” he said when I joined him by the counter desk.
“All good. How’s it?”
Before he could respond, Let’s link up and drink up, no need to worry tonight… boomed from the club’s speakers.
Nick raised his Castle bottle up in the air in sync with the song before taking another huge gulp… Damn, how drunk was he? I smiled trying to mask the judgement going through mind. “What are you drinking? What are you drinking?” I said.
“Give him a Zambeziiii!” he yelled at the bartender. She handed me a cold bottle. I nodded to Nick in appreciation.
“It’s your lucky day today, kid! All drinks on mee!”
“How’s church?”
“Are you still going?”
“Yes it’s all good.”
“Haa mfana that church almost ended me.” His voice was now a bit measured, filled with regret, it seemed to me.
“After my break-up with Nancy, things didn’t end up going well.”
Sister Nancy was a fellow church member, leader of the choir, praise and worship and a fervent intercessor. It seemed like a match made in heaven. Literally! I was shocked it didn’t end well.
“What happened, bro?” I enquired taking a gulp from my Zambezi.
“Haa bro, that girl never really loved me. The relationship itself was put in a motion by Pastor Kamutsa. It was pure matchmaking. Silly me thought was Christ ordained…” Nick chuckled a little, taking sips from the bottle, normal sips now, not gulps. He would take one and looked off into space.
Man, he seemed deep in thought, I contemplated giving him a hug…
“But after four years, four fucking years, younger, she finally told me the truth. That she wasn’t sure about us, and she was doing this for the church… She said she was choosing herself now and we didn’t align. There was a little pause, and she walked, bro, gone with another man… I loved her, broo.”
“Eish mdara…” I said, but I didn’t know what to say at that moment,.
“And that bloody church blamed me! Can you imagine, saying I wasted her time. From the pastors elders, all of them, I couldn’t take it anymore. So I left, and found love in a hopeless place.” He raised his bottle… “To us bar rangers!”
As we clinked bottles, I couldn’t help thinking of the man who once told me to finish the job. Back then he had helped me survive my darkest season. Now, sitting beside him in a half-empty bar, I wondered who would help Nick survive his.
