In Summary
  • I was seated in church one chilly Sunday morning, listening keenly to words that will guarantee me space in the book of life, when Yvonne Chakachaka’s Umqombothi came on.
  • Those that know me well can attest to never hearing my phone ring because I shoot videos quite a lot, so I’ve learnt to have my phone on vibration throughout.
  • Sure that it cannot be my phone, I turned my head around to frown at that irresponsible congregant who could not tame his phone at such an important moment with God.

Our parents did not own cell phones, save for the rich few who had house telephones that were devoid of apps, games and anything interesting to a child.

They were therefore not faced with the problem parents of today have; fighting over cell phones with our young ones.

There’s this inborn affinity for those gadgets that comes engraved in the young ones of these days, and it manifests at very tender ages.

They are usually so swift and quick that you move away from your phone for a minute and they are already rummaging through apps, playing games or taking hundreds of poorly framed selfies.

Even with most apps locked with a security code, mine still finds something to do with my phone, sometimes with embarrassing outcomes.

SPACE IN THE BOOK OF LIFE

I was seated in church one chilly Sunday morning, listening keenly to words that will guarantee me space in the book of life, when Yvonne Chakachaka’s Umqombothi came on.

Those that know me well can attest to never hearing my phone ring because I shoot videos quite a lot, so I’ve learnt to have my phone on vibration throughout.

Sure that it could not be my phone, I turned my head around to frown at that irresponsible congregant who could not tame his phone at such an important moment with God.

To make it worse the particular song was about an illicit brew in South Africa! Who does that? It however occurred to me that the song was too loud and close to be my neighbour's, as close as my own pocket.

I was thrown into confusion, unsure of whether to pull out the phone and switch it off or walk out all the way from the front seat, through the aisle to the exit.

The pastor stopped preaching to remove his blazer and take a sip of water while giving me a moment to sort my shenanigans.

By this time, Yvonne was crooning in the chorus like an early morning bird; everybody’s eyes glued on me;

We MaDlamini (Everybody)
Uph'umqombothi (Come and drink my)
We MaDlamini (magic beer)
Uph'umqombothi

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