The Road to Hell (1)

There is nothing unique about Kununka as a village… That is, if you imagine the tarmac road from the capital city of Nairobi had an invisible portal to the past.

And not only the past.

The existence of this village is an anomaly in the general time-space continuum.

Unfortunately, the religious bubble that isolated the village from the real world could not last as long as its inhabitants hoped. In simple terms, this isolated village has not escaped the aggressive development of the country and the sins it brings.

Kununka has gradually been drawn into the horrific and heathen twenty-first century.

The beginning of the end of the 'true holy age' in the village came with the return of a beautiful but broken soul from the village, a persecuted son of the Ameru people. He did not bring darkness with him, but he ushered in an era that broke the glass dome.

The true Puritans who still remain in the corners of the village believe him to be the antichrist. 

But despite his trauma, his failings and his unnatural relationship which would undoubtedly drag him to hell, he was not a devil. 

If anything, he was nurtured into who he became through the fires of religious persecution.

This 'damned' child, Jeremiah, worked in a revolutionary company, Rendition Energy.

The goal of this international subsidiary was to change the face of renewable energy in Africa. Moreover, the founder was passionate about the involvement of local communities and indigenous people in the innovative solution aimed at saving the world.

And one could not get more local or indigenous than Kununka. 

Jeremiah found himself thrust into the arena of his old life through his work. His success brought him back to the place he hated with all his heart because it reminded him of how small, weak and stupid he used to be.

As one who had suffered under the painful clutches of religion, he swore would never return to the prison he barely escaped. However, his short visit as an ambassador of Rendition Energy was a blessing in disguise for many because he ushered in the need to transform the face of Kununka.

And the experience was not useless to him either. His return allowed him to face his past and come to terms with who he used to be, who he was, and who he wanted to him. When he returned home to his long-suffering lover, he could truly see the sun shining beyond the gloom of his life.

But the dramatic and scandalous tale of Jeremiah is a story for another day.

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The new beginning in Kununka was not expected.

The initial start of the transformation in the village was small, almost imperceptible, but the flap of the butterfly wings caused ripples and waves and perhaps, one day, a tsunami will cleanse the sins of these Pharisees.

When Rendition Energy launched the project, they started with the simple integration of solar panels in homes and kiosks to power the needs of a few individuals. However, the dream was not so small for the international company.

The ultimate focus was on climate change and the generation of renewable energy credits. And as the company began to build a wind and solar farm on the unused land, the small village was forced to re-evaluate itself.

There was nothing that can force people to change faster than the promise of money.

Of course, the more things change, the more they remain the same.

Even with the benefits of technology, no one was in a rush to ditch the old ways. The religion and the culture of the village were entrenched into the bones of the old as they died and the flesh of the young as they were born.

But all hope was never lost.

It should be noted that no hero was rushing to rescue the village and bring them to the age of enlightenment. No one would dare.

After all, a place like Kununka is not as simple as it seems, and one might die before one realised what was happening.

The people in that old place were willing to die for their strange beliefs.

Fortunately, all humans, even those lost in the haven of self-righteous hypocrisy, are capable of evolution.

But the growing pains...

In any case, to understand Kununka, its people, its churches, the growing pains and gradual change, we must start at the beginning.

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The small village, of Kununka is not one of those famous villages with the traditional, old-time charm of an African locale. It is just a village; simple, without old buildings of historical, cultural, religious or educational significance.

The old things have long turned into ash.

This village, for years, refused to cross over to the current century that embraces modern technology, information, and the Western pleasures seen on streaming services. In fact, there are no malls, supermarkets, or good bars with half-decent cocktails.

It is a completely undeveloped place where an elephant will walk across the road proudly, even when the season is not right. The fences around the nearby game reserve are barely standing. They might scare a squirrel or two, but they cannot stop anything big enough to kill a human.

Unfortunately, you will also not find tourists coming to look at these stray elephants or the possible appearance of man-eating lions and hyenas.

Kununka, this eerie village, is so shrouded in such unremarkable obscurity that its features cannot be seen on the most advanced GPS apps. Perhaps, only a military-grade satellite would detect the settlement amid the hills and trees.

If a curious person wants to find this little place, they must do it the old-fashioned way: by asking the locals for directions. Or maybe, one might use a compass or follow the migratory birds known to nest in the myriads of hills surrounding the small village.

But there is one thing that stands out in Kununka in comparison to other towns and villages in Meru County: the churches.

Despite the inconspicuous nature of the location, it is said that one cannot walk for longer than fifty metres without seeing a church. If you throw a stone randomly, it is likely to land on church grounds, or at least, hit a religious person.

It is important to mention that the traditional churches built by old-timey white missionaries in the nineteenth and twentieth centuries have long been overtaken by modern houses of prayers. British architecture no longer graces the landscape.

The unusual ecclesiastical revolution has not only taken away the physical monuments of colonial churches. It has gone a step further by embracing a new form of self-identity.

One can also no longer see the simple and clear church names of the past, like Methodist, Presbyterian and even the quintessential Catholic.

Like the many emergent genders and sexualities on social media, the 'modern' houses of prayers in Kununka village do not embrace simplicity in their identities and titles.

All these churches have taken on unique and often, unnecessarily descriptive names. In some cases, these names can be just a tad nonsensical.

And they get increasingly ridiculous with every passing year.

To a seasoned memer, the crude but hilarious signboards appearing every few steps are like scrolling through a meme website.

One cannot help but question the sanity of the church leaders.

But it seems to work for them.

No one can say for sure how the little village of Kununka and its even smaller marketplace became an ecclesiastical centre.

Many theories exist in an attempt to explain how a simple African village turned into a cesspool of religion, especially among the non-religious folk.

The speculations are quite wild and have changed with time, and naturally, there is the most popular 'origin story'.

Rumour has it that one man filled with holy fervour came from 'outside' of Meru County, moved into the village, and started the religious revolution that ended up sweeping Kununka and beyond.

He had a passion for witnessing and preaching to the idiots who still lived in mud houses and mutilated the bodies of their children in the name of culture and tradition.

It is uncertain if the source of the religious phenomenon is true or not. The only thing that could be proven was that this famous man was not from the Meru tribe or the village, despite his gradual naturalisation.

He always claimed to have gotten a calling to serve in the dark corners of the country. His followers believed him because no one with a functioning mind would move to Kununka intentionally and live in obscurity.

Unless they were crazy or running away from something…

Something scary enough to force them off the grid.