Bless me Father

Mukuka sat on the wooden stool, anxiety twisting in his stomach as he waited for Father Yacobo to hear his confession. He was unsettled, his mind racing with the weight of the secret he was about to reveal. 

The makeshift church, also known as ‘insaka’, stood on four sturdy wooden planks, its open walls offering a glimpse of the village beyond. Inside, simple oblong wooden benches were scattered in the centre, bare except for the dust that had settled over time.

Five years earlier, missionaries from the north had arrived, bringing stories of a great God who could call down fire from the sky or make the earth open up and swallow the wicked. At first, the villagers resisted, sceptical of this new faith. But when the Chief’s kind-hearted brother embraced this strange God, giving his life to Him, some of the villagers began to listen and follow.

Father Yacobo, the first Christian convert in the village and brother to the Chief, entered the church with the last bite of his lunch still in his mouth. His chewed food was barely concealed as he walked through the open doorway. He wiped his hands on a cloth made from tree bark and sat down on a stool opposite Mukuka.

“Mukuka, my son, is this your first confession?” Father Yacobo asked, his voice steady yet kind.

“Yes, Father, it is,” Mukuka replied nervously, his hands trembling slightly in his lap.

“Then let us begin with the sign of the cross,” Father Yacobo said, motioning across his chest. Mukuka quickly followed suit, his movements hesitant but reverent.

“Bless me, Father, for I have sinned,” Mukuka said in a low, hoarse voice. “I have fallen in love with my friend’s wife.”

At those words, Father Yacobo’s throat tightened. The last lump of nshima with dried fish, which had been slowly making its way down, became lodged in his throat. His breath faltered, and he began to cough violently, clutching his chest in an attempt to dislodge the stubborn food.

"Father, are you alright?" Mukuka asked with genuine concern.

Father Yacobo took a slow sip of water from the wooden cup on the nearby stool, feeling grateful for the villagers who always ensured he had water when he needed it.

"I'm sorry, Mukuka. Please, continue," he said with a smile, trying to ease the tension.

"We didn’t plan it, Father. It just... happened. When I held her in my arms, it felt so right," Mukuka said, his voice filled with warmth and sincerity.

"Ah..." A soft voice suddenly called out from behind the thicket.

Both men turned in surprise, but no one was visible.

"Did you hear that?" Father Yacobo asked, his brow raised in curiosity.

Mukuka nodded, standing up from his stool. He walked a little way into the bushes and looked around, but when he found no one, he returned to his seat.

"My friend doesn't treat her well, Father. She’s such a beautiful, kind-hearted woman. We just want to be together, to run away," Mukuka added, his voice filled with both longing and sadness.

Father Yacobo's eyes widened slightly, but before he could respond, a woman suddenly rushed into the insaka, her anger clear.

"You... you ungrateful dog!" she exclaimed, stepping toward Mukuka with her hands raised. Father Yacobo quickly moved to stop her, but the woman, her face full of hurt, grabbed her husband's neck, her small hands holding onto him tightly.

Though Father Yacobo tried gently to pull her away, the woman held on, her grip surprisingly strong despite her small size.

“Mwenya, release your husband!” Father Yacobo shouted amidst the ambush, his voice thick with disbelief. “This is unforgivable! How could you listen to another man’s confession?” 

But his words were lost on her as the small woman continued her relentless assault. Father Yacobo, shaken by the scene, recalled how devoted and God-fearing Mwenya had always been. With renewed urgency, he shouted, “God will punish you for this!” 

At the sound of his words, Mwenya abruptly halted, her expression shifting. She adjusted the animal skin wrapper around her waist and stood upright, a calm, almost serene composure overtaking her, as if nothing had transpired. 

Mukuka, gasping for air and clutching his throat, staggered to his feet. “You nearly killed me!” he roared, his voice hoarse with anger. “What kind of wife are you?”

“I’m the woman you were planning to leave. Why would you expect me to act like a wife, you cheater?” she replied, her voice calm but firm.

“That was my confession. You weren’t supposed to hear it. It’s between me and God,” he shouted, his frustration rising.

“I’ve heard many confessions. Yours is not the not the only one. Mulenga, your sister’s husband, and your mother are in love with each other, and I never said a word to anyone about it,” she retorted.

Father Yacobo’s jaw dropped in shock, “Mwenya, how dare you listen to people’s confessions?”

Mukuka paused for a moment, then raised an eyebrow. “Wait... did you just say that my sister’s husband is in love with my Mother?”

Mwenya turned away from her husband, focusing her attention on Father Yacobo. She spoke matter-of-factly, "I confess my deeds at the end of each week. Everything is forgiven and forgotten after that."

Father Yacobo’s voice grew stern. "That is not how confession works," he said sharply. "You can’t go around sinning with the assumption that it’s all erased by a simple confession. And I’ve never heard you confess any of it."

Mukuka, still confused, asked, “Did you say that Mulenga, my brother-in-law, is in love with my mother?”

Mwenya, barely hearing him, was seething angrily at Father Yacobo’s accusation. “Don’t lie, Father! I’ve always told you I have a habit of listening in on people’s conversations. Isn’t a confession to you just another form of conversation?”

Father Yacobo opened his mouth to respond, but Mukuka cut him off, shouting, “Woman, what did you just say about Mulenga and my mother?”

“You and your whole family are just strange,” Mwenya snapped, standing right in front of her husband, glaring up at him. “Why are you so shocked? How you fell in love with your friend’s wife is exactly how your mother fell in love with her daughter’s husband.”

Mulenga raised his hand to strike his wife, but before he could, Father Yacobo stepped in between them. Unfortunately, the slap landed on Father Yacobo’s left cheek. It stung, and for a moment, he was tempted to return the gesture with a punch or two. But instead, he simply took a few deep breaths, trying to steady his emotions.

"I'm sorry, Father," Mukuka cried out, clearly distressed.

Father Yacobo shook his head gently. “It’s alright, my child. But just think—if that slap stings me, imagine how much harder it would have been for your wife.”

From behind, Mwenya’s voice, sharper than before, said, “Exactly, Father. Imagine how I would have felt after that slap.”

Father Yacobo smiled wearily, his anger rising again as he sighed quietly. “I don't have to imagine it." His anger was evident as he stood in a way that allowed both people to clearly see his expression. With a calm yet firm tone, he said, "Can you both sit down? We need to talk."

The two complied, sitting silently as Father Yacobo took a deliberate sip of water before joining them.

"First," he began, "I expect an apology from you, Mwenya. It is completely unacceptable for you to listen to people’s confessions. You need to apologise right now."

Mwenya responded idly, "I'll apologise on Friday during my confession, Father."

Father Yacobo's gaze shifted to Mukuka, who, clearly frustrated, spoke up. "You see? This is another reason why I want to leave her. She never admits when she's wrong, and she's too stubborn to even try."

Father Yacobo took a deep breath in and continued, “ Mwenya, you are banned from confession until you apologise,”

Mwenya looked away with tears in her eyes. 

“Mukuka, you must apologise to your wife; you sinned against her by falling for another man’s wife. I cannot permit you to hurt your spouse in such a manner.”

“But I don’t want her as my wife anymore,” he cried.

“Then you should have never married her in the first place! How are you going to leave her with eight children and no support?” Father Yacobo scolded.

“Not only that, Father, he’s bigger than his children! Who would want me after him?” Mwenya sobbed.

Father Yacobo’s stomach churned. He had to beat his chest and clear his throat, trying to suppress the nausea rising within him.

“What do you mean I’m bigger than the children?” Mukuka asked, confused. 

Father Yacobo frowned at the man’s inability to understand his wife’s careless words. He struggled to avoid imagining the tall, huge man with his petite wife in a compromising position. “Heaven help me,” he thought.

Mwenya’s voice trembled as she spoke. “You’re… you’re big down there. It was easier to give birth to our children than to sleep with you.”

Father Yacobo coughed violently.

"Father, are you okay?" Mwenya asked, concern written on her face.

"I'm fine," Father Yacobo replied, taking another sip of water and clearing his throat. "But you shouldn't talk about your husband like that."

"Father," Mwenya said, "if I had corners in my private parts, this man would fill them. He doesn't seem to understand that after we make love, I have to learn how to walk again the next morning."

Father Yacobo took another gulp of water, worried he might lose his lunch if this conversation kept going in this direction.

Mukuka, now visibly embarrassed, struggled to meet Father Yacobo's eye. But Mwenya, unfazed, continued, "You'll be doing me a favour if you leave me. I bet your friend's wife won't be sticking around after your first night together. She'll probably be out the door before dawn, unable to walk fast enough to escape."

"Don't say that in front of Father," Mukuka finally spoke up, his voice tight with discomfort.

“He should know the truth. If you can tell him about your new love, you should be able to tell him about your body as well,” she said.

“Let us all just... take a short break,” Father Yacobo interjected. He motioned for the couple to speak to each other while he stepped outside the insaka and stood at a distance in front of a big tree to kneel and pray.

"Lord, could this day get any longer? What kind of confused souls have you sent my way? Mukuka is in love with his friend's wife—just like his mother is infatuated with her own son-in-law. What a scandalous family! And then there's Mwenya, his wife, who's been listening to everyone's confessions—and oh my, the woman can talk. What kind of wife speaks so freely about her husband's... body parts like that? There couldn’t be a more confused pair.

I pray that, in Your miraculous way, You keep them together. They truly deserve each other."

Father Yacobo couldn’t help but recall Mwenya’s description of her husband’s body, and before he knew it, he burst out laughing. He quickly covered his face, bent his head, and chuckled quietly to himself.

As Father Yacobo’s shoulders shook with laughter, Mukuka and his wife watched him from a distance, their hearts heavy with a growing sadness.

“Look, Father Yacobo is crying because of us,” Mwenya whispered, her voice thick with sorrow.

“We must be doing something terribly wrong for such a good man to cry,” Mukuka replied, his words laced with guilt.

They sat together and talked quietly, confronting each other and expressing their frustrations. By the end of their conversation, they knelt down to pray together. When Father Yacobo finally returned to the insaka, wiping tears from his eyes, he found the couple kneeling in silence. Their hands were tightly clasped, and their heads were bowed. As they looked up at him, their faces were filled with regret. In unison, they pleaded, “Bless us, Father, for we have sinned.”

“I’ve betrayed my wife, and I am deeply sorry,” Mukuka said, his voice heavy with regret. “I promise before God that I will never leave her and that I will love her with all my heart for as long as I live.”

Mwenya, her eyes filled with a mix of hurt and hope, spoke next. “I’ve listened to other people’s confessions and have not been remorseful of my deeds. I promise to stop doing that. I also promise to love my husband and stop being stubborn.”

Father Yacobo smiled warmly, his heart full of gratitude. He had prayed for this moment, even if it had felt like an impossible request. With a sense of peace, he made the sign of the cross and blessed their marriage.

The sun hung low behind the tall trees, casting a golden glow over the sky. The couple walked hand in hand toward their home, their voices light with laughter. Mukuka smiled as he watched Mwenya laugh, and for the first time in a long while, they both felt a deep sense of love and happiness.