2.

Kanani and Faisi were going to “sow the seed.” Normally, Faisi sowed alone but Kanani was on forced leave. At seventy-four years of age, there was grumbling within Namirembe Cathedral administration that Kanani should retire. He was awaiting the trustees’ decision.

Faisi and Kanani Kintu were Awakened, an old sect within the Anglican Church. The Awakened were based at Namirembe Cathedral, though they had other churches all over central Uganda. For decades, the Awakened claimed to be the only people on the right course to heaven. They had declared other Anglicans Asleep, and Catholics were pronounced heathen for worshipping idols and a woman. Moslems were a primitive tribe.

Kanani and Faisi were a model Awakened couple. They lived a basic life. In fact, they wore poverty like an ornament. Faisi’s ankle-length skirt was thick and woolen. Bought second-hand, she had worn it for the last ten years. There was neither adornment nor paint on her body. Her hair was cut so close that she brushed it with a shoeshine brush. After paying the tithe, Kanani and Faisi still spent most of their earnings on God’s work.

Since the arrival of the deafening and predatory Pentecostal churches from America in the 80s, the Awakened had become an endangered species. The Pentecostals had drowned them with their discothèque music, frenzied dancing, and ecstatic prayer. Kanani and Faisi had disagreed with the Awakened’s decision to “withdraw from towns and cities to go into the hills.” The brethren had pointed to the “signs of the times” and declared: “When you see false prophets you know the end is nigh. Get out of Babylon.”

“But no one knows the day or the hour except He,” Faisi had argued. “The world needs our true witness now in the age of false witness more than ever.”

But the brethren did not listen. Now that prophecy had come to pass with cruel irony. The end had crept upon the Awakened sect but there was no Christ in sight. Kanani sucked his teeth in anger.

They alighted in the new taxi park and Kanani looked around. Because his life had rotated around Namirembe Cathedral, which was close to his house, this was the first time in a long while that he had looked at the new taxi park properly. The new shops, small and box-like, looked like shipping containers. No doubt the city engineer had a cave-like architectural vision. Kanani chastised his mind for wandering into worldly issues. He looked at Faisi and envied her unwavering focus. Faisi now had a spring in her step and a cheerful smile played on her face. It was as if an invisible hand guided her. A taxi broker saw them coming and asked with respect, “Kyengera, Nabbingo, Nsangi, old ones?”

Faisi smiled in agreement.

“If you sit at the back of the van you won’t be disturbed,” the broker advised helpfully.

From his vantage view at the back of the van, Kanani watched as one by one passengers climbed in. He contemplated the reasons why these passengers had been chosen in particular. This could be a pertinent point to put to them. Why you, why today? But then a thought intruded on him: is this how those suicide bombers felt as their victims boarded the American planes? Did they sit there wondering, why him, why her, why today? Kanani shook the thought out of his mind. He was vexed that his thoughts kept straying that morning. In any case, he and Faisi were agents of life, not death.

The last passenger hopped onto the van and as they drove out, Kanani felt Faisi gearing up. He slipped the Bible into her hands. After ten minutes of driving when the passengers sat back to enjoy the cooling air wafting through the windows, Faisi launched.

“Praise God, brothers and sisters.”

The air was stunned. Passengers’ shoulders sagged.

“I thank God for He saved me.”

Faisi clutched the Bible as if it were a battery powering her.

“God has sent me with a message for you.”

The passengers whimpered simultaneously. It was the whine of a people who had given up on anything good happening to them.

“I was a sinner but He set me free.”

While other passengers decided to ride out the onslaught silently, a lad sitting a few seats away from Faisi turned and laughed. “Why do you still look trapped?”

Rather than Faisi, the passengers vented their frustration on the lad. Faisi raised her voice above their annoyance.

“I was an evil woman.” Faisi had a strong alto.

The passengers glared at the lad, their eyes saying: See what you have done now, but no one else seemed moved. Confession to evil was not potent anymore. People had hardened. Nonetheless, Faisi had cleared the field. Kanani waited to see how she would plough.

“I was a slut.”

A woman sighed contentedly.

“I preferred married men. I aborted three of my unborn babies.”

A man cracked his knuckles but the women were not moved. Shock had not worked either. Kanani became anxious.

“Eventually, I settled down with one married man. But God punished me. I couldn’t have children. In a rage of envy, I killed his wife’s children.” Faisi paused for effect, “All three of them.”

The passengers were still.

It was a moment of balance: the passengers could believe her and get angry or they might not and laugh. Kanani sat on the edge of his seat praying that they would get angry. Wind whirled through the windows.

“No one knew about me. The children dropped off one by one and within five years, they were finished.”

Kanani worried that Faisi had overdone it.

The lad, now nervous, glanced at Faisi. A man sitting to her left shifted, but there was no room to move. The van’s engine purred. She had them, Kanani wanted to clap.

“I did,” Faisi choked. “And for what?”

Looking at her, Faisi was an old woman seeking respite from an old sin. Words came from far beyond pain. “Because of a man . . . a mere man,” her lips trembled. “Those children, I remember them, especially the little girl. They died because of . . .” the words trailed away.

After a measured pause of sniffing, Faisi infused her voice with optimism.

“But then I saw the light and I confessed to my husband. He did not believe me and I left him. However, God had plans for me. He sent me another husband. I confessed to him as well, but he married me and we have two children. Now I serve the Lord.”

A sign for Buddo Hill, Buganda’s traditional coronation grounds, whizzed past. Kanani sensed the passengers slipping out of Faisi’s hands. If a passenger stopped the taxi to alight, it would be impossible to recover the ambience.

“Whatever you’ve done . . .” Faisi’s voice soothed, “God will forgive. No sin is bigger than His mercy. However, you can’t hold on much longer. You don’t know what the next hour might bring.”

She paused to allow the passengers to contemplate whether they would make it to the end of the day alive. As the van drove through Nabbingo Town, Faisi concluded, “That is the message God’s sent you today.” She took a short breath and called, “Getting off right there.”

The driver stopped the van.

As Faisi and Kanani paid their fare, the passengers hurled,

“They should swing from the gallows!”

“They commit crimes and claim God’s mercy!”

“That’s why I keep away from churches . . . they’re full to the rafters with criminals I swear . . . including the pastors . . .”

Faisi smiled patiently. Kanani closed his ears but not before he heard someone ask, “Is that the fool who married her?”

When the taxi drove off, Kanani and Faisi crossed to the other side of the road. They waited for a taxi bound for the city.

“Oh,” Faisi held her forehead in anguish. “I forgot to quote the Bible.”

“Never mind,” Kanani soothed. “You did well; your timing was impeccable.”

“It was God’s mercy.” Faisi never took credit for anything.

“I like the way you rounded up the message with a sound of hope.”

“But a quote would have washed the Word down beautifully.”

At that moment, a van came along. Kanani made to flag it down but Faisi stopped him.

“Not that one, it’s half-empty. Wait for an almost-full one.”

It was Kanani’s turn.