“A prophet is never honored in his hometown.” Gavi laughed at the village central water borehole.
He was a renowned prophet. His fans throughout Marondera Village went to him with all kinds of problems. Men nursing hunting wounds, couples about to divorce, and schoolkids wanting to ace final school-year exams all relied on him. Prophet Gavi would “fix” their problems with just a prayer and anointing oil, they insisted.
A few days before the borehole incident, Gavi had performed one of his miracles. He performed a prophetic ritual to bring back a woman’s lost husband. He had eloped with a younger woman. The man came back soon after the woman’s feet had been sprayed with cold olive oil by Gavi in a prayer ritual to draw her husband back home.
The woman was ecstatic. She offered to give Gavi a basket of fresh eggs and a goat. In public, Gavi insisted that his “gift was free to humanity.” However, rumors circulating in the village were that Gavi would gladly receive gifts in private.
As the prophet’s works and fame grew beyond Marondera Village, more fame and fortune followed him. Politicians, businessmen, and even other prophets wanting to nurture their luck came in their numbers. Fleets of cars parked outside Gavi’s newly renovated home daily. He became a mini celebrity prophet. Well-heeled foreigners received first preference. The humble villagers who lived next to him increasingly became a second priority.
“You need to make an appointment to see me,” he told Mai Chaku, a widowed lady who lived next to his homestead. She asked for prophetic help to punish a thief who had stolen three sheep from her homestead.
“I’ll need six chickens to get the thief to return your three sheep, Mai Chaku,” he told her.
“You’re asking for payment, Gavi, from me, your neighbor?” she replied.
“Look—my time costs money,” he told her.
“This is unlike you in the past. You have changed,” she said.
“Well,” he said, coughing, “this is like me in the present.” He strolled around the yard before turning back and looking at her again.
“Widow—pay for my prophecy or lose your sheep forever” were Gavi’s final words.
Mai Chaku and many locals began to openly pay for Gavi’s services. They had no choice. Their old, humble, and generous prophet was now an egoistic figure sought after by wealthy foreigners. Many came to have their dreams, visions, and thoughts interpreted by the “Prophet Man of God,” as Gavi styled and bragged of his new moniker. His charges got steep suddenly—from free consultations to $20 or two brown chickens for interpreting dreams. He also charged $40 or six brand new pots for “whipping a cheating spouse with a mystical rubber stick.”
Meanwhile, the villagers grumbled about Gavi charging exorbitant prices for his prophetic gift meant to be affordable and accessible for locals.
“My gift works; pay or live with your problems,” he would brag in village squares, donning new suits and flashy hats given by wealthy foreign visitors.
Pio and Gudo were gold dealers and sons of Marondera Village who were now residing in the Republic of South Africa. Back home in Marondera Village, the pair was well respected for their ability to mobilize the community to clear bushes to stop mosquitoes from spreading. They also repaired broken windows and floors at local clinics. On visits back home, Pio and Gudo were increasingly vocal about Gavi’s money-making prophetic services. He was fleecing locals, they said.
“He suddenly got sick,” Pio told Gavi while he was carrying Gudo on his back.
Gudo’s cheek was swollen heavily, and he was looking pale as Pio lowered him to the ground in front of crowds who had gathered around the prophet’s home. They wanted to see a miraculous “healing.” Gavi paced around the crowds, satisfied that his most vocal critics were at the moment of their weakness, requiring his critical help.
“I’ve always warned you to watch your mouths. Now the angels are punishing you,” Gavi cautioned Pio and Gudo, who were pleading for help at his knees.
Gavi touched and massaged Gudo’s left cheek that looked heavily swollen. “He needs to be exorcised, this one,” he said to the roar of an appreciative crowd gathered nearby.
The gods were punishing Gudo for his secret adultery liaisons. The gods had injected fluid into Gudo’s cheek, making it swollen. No doctor would be able to surgically operate on him and heal him. Gavi demanded a cow in payment. Gudo’s right cheek would also swell in a week, and both cheeks would burst, he warned. The crowd, hearing this menacing “prophecy,” made shrieks, pleading with Gavi to save Gudo.
Gudo suddenly sprang up forward, full of energy, and walked along with Pio towards Gavi. Gudo opened his mouth and coughed. A yellow guava fruit that was filling his cheek fell to the ground.
“This guava is the curse, the infection of the gods, which requires we pay you a cow,” said Pio, mocking Gavi, who stood frozen, shocked. The two had done it again. They faked Gudo’s sickness to expose Gavi’s fake prophetic tendencies.
Gavi was at last outed as a fake prophet. Derided and shunned, he was expelled from Marondera by the village chief.
