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Sunday Morning

Sunday morning is one of the best days in my life. I can stay the whole day in my pyjamas and not feel guilty about it. I can spend the whole day in bed too. Everyone understands and I think God being the kindest of them all deeply understands.
Actually, I should be in Church. But the nice soft cheerful music from the radio is too tempting, so I roll myself into a ball and cover myself with a heavy blanket, leaving a little space for my left ear to absorb the music.
I don’t know who sang these Sunday songs but the lyrics endear me to them.
“Sunday Morning up with the Lark. I think I’ll take a walk in the Park. Hey, hey, hey its a beautiful day! Ha ha ha beautiful Sunday, this is my, my, my Beautiful Day. When you say, say, say, say that you love me…Oh my, my, my its a beautiful day.” I sing loudly from inside my blanket and I feel soooooo good.

I remove one arm from the blanket and reach out for a biscuit on top of the side table. I know I should brush my teeth, but excuse me, this is Sunday and anything goes.

“Good Morning Mr Walker, I’ve come to see my daughter. Oh Mr Walker…You promised you would marry me but now I am tired waiting…” I love this Dee Jay.
I am not going to watch television this Morning as I often do.
The last Sunday I watched television it was hundreds of prisoners from Kamiti Maximum Prison dancing and singing and preaching the gospel. I am not sure if it was a Sunday or Monday but it was on new year’s day 2012.
I looked closely…Surely, is this not the man who raped my three-year-old cousin Jacinta and ate up her liver? The court ruled that he be hanged and we celebrated that justice had been done.
Why is he dancing so happily on the screen and whoever thought of this crazy idea of prisoners on death row preaching the gospel to Kenyans at home?
I was distressed and called my mother. “Have you seen Jacinta’s murderer on TV preaching the new year gospel.?”
“Yes. I saw.  It seems like he has been converted and we should not judge him. We have to forgive and forget!” My philosophical mother explained.

I do not agree with her but I do not argue. Mother always knows best. But I do wonder in my heart. Are there no preachers in Kenya that Jacinta’s killer is the one preaching on television? So as I have already said, I am not watching TV on a Sunday morning again. It kills my spirit.

I remove the same arm from deep inside my blanket and reach out for an apple. This is soooooo nice! My doctor always tells me that nice is not a nice word to use but the apple is nice anyway.

Maybe so as not to feel guilt about not going to Church, I will later wake up…maybe in the Afternoon and read the Bible. Oh Gosh. Please don’t tell anyone. I don’t have a Bible. Must pass by the Bookshop tomorrow and buy a copy.

“When I was just a little girl, I asked my mother, what will I be? Will I be faithful, will I be rich, hear what she said to me…Que Cera Cera…whatever will be, will be…the future’s not ours to see, Que Cera Cera…”. I love this Que Cera philosophy. I throw the blanket off my body and rush to the kitchen to make some lunch. There is hardly any food. I think I have two eggs left. So I boil the eggs. This is bad because it means I have to go to the Supermarket to buy some food.

Anyway, Thank you Mr Dee Jay for making my Sunday great. You are my Sunday Best!

Happy Sunday.

Copyright Omwa Ombara, 2012

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