Confessions of a former altar boy

Before my sinful past, I was a senior altar boy in the same parish with Kindred Spirit (RIP).  Members of kamati ya roho shafu (haters) spread rumors that Madam Boss pulled me from the goodness of the Lord.

I confess today: It was not Madam Boss.  I swear, it was about the mysterious disappearance of altar wine.

Now, Fr Minno didn’t like me very much.  My oversize nose scared the daylight out of Sunday school kids.

In designing of my face, God had either delegated the job to a trainee angel or had just finished making mosquitoes. How then did my nose end up looking like a proboscis?

If you doubt it, just look at my profile picture in the social media.  When I auditioned for Churchill Live, the camera had to span off to avoid further oh, oh horror!

So I failed the test to become an altar boy. The interview included what Catechist Andrew (whom we called Wanderea) called “genufectionario”. It meant quickly kneeling on one leg and bowing at the same time.  My right knee simply couldn’t do it. So I failed the test.

But God works in mysterious ways.

Now, several altar boys fell into sin.   Alter Boy Nicasio Ngumo looked at the rabbits of another boy with ‘cassogary’ eyes which means he did not only like them, but also got them at night.  Another, Peter Murari, committed a certain sin with a girl called Wakuruci.

To be honest, I also coveted Wakaruci, which was also a sin.

The thing with Wakaruci is that God had put this gap between her teeth. This gap caused a lot of problems in the village. It made boys on their way to school make instant round about. Grown men had their blood flow disrupted by the same gap. 

Then Fr Minno was transferred. With many altar boys deep in sin, Fr   Jennelio, the new priest said a special prayer for me and accepted me as an altar boy, warts and all.

ALTAR WINE DUTY

I was promoted to the duty of pouring alter wine from the big bottle into smaller ones and placing these on the altar before mass.

Now because I human like you, my nose told me that the wine didn't smell bad.  My smell buds communicated with the taste buds and told them: Look, like I told Man Adam in that garden in Iraq ( aeeh?) 'You imbibe this juice, you get Wakaruci and your mathematics grades will improve as a bonus.’. 

So my taste buds obeyed. They continued obeying.  A sip became a swig, which grew into a gulp. 

And one Sunday, the taste buds said ‘Empty the bottle, twende!’.  I emptied half a bottle in one swig. With half a bottle of good wine inside me, something happened. My knees refused to cooperate during “genufurectionario”. I wobbled and danced.

' Ah..you .. You did not add water to the wine?" Fr Jennelio hissed?  But I am not sure, he was himself smelling of something that was not tea.

He put his bonny hand on my collar bone and pushed me back. Catechist Wanderea frog matched me to the Kai apple fence at the back of the church and through a porcupine opening, pushed me into the dusty road side. That is why in the village, I was at one time known as ‘Porcupine, Frog Jump.’