How I was nearly delivered from the evil spirits in my forehead

Long ago, in primary school, a friend who was very concerned about the disturbing size of my forehead (she actually thought it was an impairment of sorts), suggested that I put slices of tomatoes on my forehead when going to sleep each night for two weeks. She told me that the tomato juice would absorb all the water and air trapped in my forehead, and my forehead would reduce considerably and my hairline would no longer be behind my ears. I didn’t really care about my looks but I saw the damage my forehead was causing to the people around me, so I decided that the tomato remedy was worth a try.

Of course, two weeks later my forehead was still bigger than a Luo man’s ego. So my friend said that my ‘condition’ needed divine intervention. She told me that she would take me to her church, where the powerful, miracle-working pastor, who happened to be her uncle, would pray for me and I would be healed and be free from my forehead.

I decided to give it a shot.

That Sunday, she told me that she had briefed the man of God on my ‘condition’ and she had faith that I would leave the church liberated from the yoke of large foreheadness. It was a small mabati church behind a slum establishment. It was an Akorino church with two flags outside the door, where the drums had been laid to soak in the sun so that they could cause the maximum damage possible to eardrums within a 500 mile radius. The pastor was called Luke, but everyone called him Ruka, with a few calling him Luka.

After the vigorous and exhausting kīgoco, Ruka announced that there was a girl in the congregation who needed salvation from an unknown ailment of the head. My friend dug her elbow in my ribcage and whispered, “Ni wewe.” (It’s you)

I was called forth, and my friend was delightful enough to accompany me for moral support. Ruka held my forehead and shook my head a bit, then he loudly declared, “Maya mooothe nī maī!” (Aaall this is water!)

Some looked at me with pitiful eyes while others broke into tearful prayers.

Ruka pointed at my large forehead with his thumb and said, “Haha nīho ibirisi, pepo mbaya, wa maī maya me mūtwe akomaga!” (This is where the evil spirit of this water in the head sleeps!)

And the water and air trapped in my forehead were rebuked. It was a very emotional time for everyone, if the speaking in tongues while wailing and rolling on the floor was something to go by.

After everyone had calmed the fuck down and controlled their excitement about my forehead, a certain WaKamau was asked to bring a pair of scissors so that my hair could be cut since it provided a conducive breeding environment for the evil spirits that tormented me by making my forehead big. It was reported that the pair of scissors were missing. So I was given a pink kitambaa to tie around my head in the same fashion the women and girls in the church had tied theirs. I was asked to go back the following Sunday for a ceremonious shaving of my hair, the final step to attaining freedom. I was also told to give my forehead two weeks and it would reduce to a normal, acceptable size.

Of course, it never happened. My forehead game was strong and engraved deep inside the roots of my genes.

So I accepted the plans that God had for me regarding my head, and these days, I take attention off my big forehead by showing some cleavage.

If I win the Sportpesa jackpot, I will get a forehead reduction surgery.