Invisible Strings by Naledi Mashishi

Author:Naledi Mashishi
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2023-06-28T10:45:36+00:00

Twenty

Solomon liked to think of the first healing as the moment he struck a staff on the banks of the Red Sea and parted the waves. The people came behind him first as a trickle and then as a stream, following his footsteps enraptured by the proof of God’s power he had laid before them, journeying closer to the promised land by way of his church. There were so many people flowing into his pews and gallery, pressing against the sides of the church and eventually pouring out into the makeshift pews the church had been forced to place new rows using the remaining maroon plastic chairs on the hard gravel of the church grounds. More still came each week. With the new cash injection from the healings he was able to start making improvements first around the church and then in his office. He was able to replace the oak desk, chairs, and couch with a more modern one. He found a few prints he liked online and put those up on his wall. He bought his first iPad to prepare his sermons and took it with him when he stood at the pulpit. One day he walked past a jewelry store and saw a watch with a price tag that a few months ago would have been unattainable. He bought it on the spot.

While he enjoyed the new perks the healings brought with them, he had to confront the the practical problems that came with the swelling crowds. ‘Either we will have to consider having multiple services each day like most other churches or we will have to find a new space,’ Mrs Vilakazi protested during a church committee meeting. She was one of the few remaining members of the original committee. Solomon had added Bongani to the committee, and swapped out the old treasurer with someone more agreeable. With his new ability to perform miracles, he had the rest of the committee eating out his hand. ‘We need new voices and energy here,’ he had explained. It was only Mrs Vilakazi who insisted on being difficult by being even more vocal during meetings. This time around committee members nodded their heads in agreement.

Solomon had to concede she had a point. The church had become overcrowded, with people practically sitting on top of one another. The litter from abandoned pew leaflets, plastic water bottles and food packaging was starting to build up on the church grounds. Long queues had started snaking outside the bathrooms where toilet paper disappeared at an astonishing rate and the toilets themselves became clogged on an almost weekly basis. He could no longer ignore the stench of sweating human bodies pressed close together as he preached inside the church. He had considered doing morning and evening mass, but the problem was Thato.

‘No man, you can’t give her energy drinks. She’s nine,’ her mother had said when he proposed it to her.

There was of course the proposal that they keep the healing for the main 12 o’clock mass and have morning and evening mass without the theatrics.

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