Esther Arunga Saga: Finger of God Church

As Kenyans reel from the incredible revelations that top television personality Esther Arunga has been ensnared in the activities of the hitherto unheard-of so-called Finger of God Church, weirder details are emerging that may make even the hardest of red-light district operatives blush.

According to a woman who has been in the church and who has since left after realizing that she was headed the direction that is the exact opposite of what she had been made to believe was towards a more rewarding life, for one to be accepted in the church that she says is actually a sect, one has to insert his finger in the privates parts of a woman in a bizarre act that in all descriptions and purposes is a pornographic initiation rite.

It is from this that the cult derives its finger of God name. Indeed, it is said, the worship in the church is nothing but partying that ends up in out of control sex orgies. Finger of sex church, sources say, would be the appropriate name of the church. The church at Runda Estate has eight bedrooms making it the only known church of its kind in Kenya, with live-in adherents partially cut off from the main society.

That the church has a thing with sex is illustrated by the fact that its adherents reportedly run sex related businesses. Arunga herself recently opened a spa in Nairobi's Runda area which apart from offering hairdo and beauty services it offers other services.

In Nairobi, spas are pseudonyms for brothels as apart from sauna hot baths, they also offer sex services with beautiful and nude girls who are permanently stationed in the spas ostensibly to offer massage.

One of the earliest followers of the Finger of God in Kenya Seanice Kacungira who until early this year was a presenter at Capital FM, has now opened a spa of her own in Kampala near the gates of the US Embassy and it is suspected that she is now on missionary assignment to fish more adherents in Kampala.

Capital FM intriguingly seems to be the media home of the finger church as the church's leader Joseph Omondi Hellon has been holding prayers called morning evolution sessions for staff every Wednesday. What remains unknown is whether the station's owner Chris Kirubi aka DJ CK has given a nod to the church although it is highly unlikely that anything can go on a weekly basis in his pet project radio station without his knowledge.

Incidentally, Arunga started her media career at Capital FM she presented the Saturday morning rock music show.

Capital FM also happens to be a rich fishing ground of the church as it has won the hearts and minds of Anne Kiguta, Cess Mutungi and Everline Wambui. KTN's Isabella Kituri is an usher in the church and has flatly refused to quit even after the human resource manager at KTN called her after the saga exploded and asked her to either choose the church or her job. Kituri lost her husband barely two years into marriage and experts have pointed out that she is just the right target for cultists as she might be vulnerable and gullible.

Lillian Muli of KTN is said to have been a member but left after a brief stay. Others in KTN who were approached but declined are Esther Kahumbi and Cynthia Nyamai. It is not known whether Esther Kahumbi turned down the offer. Mwenda Kiogoria attends. Linus Kaikai was once seen driving to the residence following the David Makali's vehicle. Makali is Omondi's music promoter. K24's Luois Otieno and True Love's Carol Mandi have been targeted as was Daniel Ndambuki aka Churchil alias Mwalimu King'ang'i.

At NTV, Jamila Mbugua is said to be a member while Peninah Karibe has been approached by Arunga. Apart from holding prayers at Runda, the members also congregate at the Lenana Conference Centre at Kilimani opposite DOD.

Others in the church that seems to derive most of its following from the media and entertainment industry are musician Kanji Mbugua and music producer Big Kev and events organizer Big Ted. Daughter of minister Anyang Nyong, Lupita Nyong'o is also alleged to have been approached. Classic FM's Maina Kageni is said to be a member. Jackson Makini alias Rakim Ngechu aka Prezzo was approached declined because he is a muslim.

At a press conference organized by Makali who owns the Sound Africa music company that has signed Omondi who is a saxophonist in a class of his own, Omondi declared that he will run for the presidency in 2012 with Arunga as his running mate. Now if anyone needed proof that this is a cult, that was it as it is only a deluded Omondi and Arunga who can imagine that they can become prezzy and VP in 2012.

Cults are known to specialise in self-belief antics that make their followers live in a dream world that they believe is real. In TV interview with K24's Jeff Koinange, Arunga compared herself with biblical Esther and said that she is the one who is going to save Kenya.

So blinded is Arunga that e-mails were sent from the next room to hers and she believed they were coming from international evangelist Benny Hinn who has since disowned the e-mails one of which is seen as the stroke that broke the camel's back as it instructed Arunga to dump the boyfriend, Wilson Malaba whom she was going to marry in April for Omondi's friend one Wambiti who has changed his name to Quincy Timberlake taking a name from global musical icon Quincy Jones and another from superstar Justin Timberlake.

To add insult to injury, Timberlake was made pastor of the church. With his woman gone, the man, Wilson Malaba started spilling the beans of the church that he was also a member of. It is worth noting that Arunga broke another engagement and called off the marriage that was supposed to take place in October last year.

Another time, a man invited her to Mombasa after lying to her that he was a big shot in a blue chip company only for her to realize that the boy was jobless and lived with his mother and had no house of his own. The boy never took her to his home and she stayed in a hotel room.

But even as Arunga last week' projected her mid-range future plans, others were worried about her immediate future with her thousands of admirers sympathizing with her for resigning from her enviable job into the vagaries of tarmacking.

[Courtesy of SirKen]

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Signed: Dr. Mwas
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Nairobi City Council and Anti-piracy Personnel: Dogs

Did I punch him? Oh yeah. Did I beat them up? Of course, and it felt good, so good. People are not supposed to come to your premises and make wild accusations about you and your activities. People are supposed to be respectful of your space. Even the authorities are supposed to bust into your place like you walk around loaded. They are supposed to ask nicely.

Three days ago, a couple of Nairobi City Council askaris came to my business premises and demanded to see the business registration documents. The certificate was hanging on the wall. Knock yourself out, I retorted pointing at a framed document on the wall. They checked it and left without a word. I went about what I was doing and left shortly afterwards leaving my assistants in charge.

I got a call an hour later, about 10.30am. The buggers were back. I rushed back to my business to see what they wanted. They were accompanied by two tough talking officers of the anti-piracy unit. Apparently somebody reported that my computers were harboring a few gigs worth of pirated material. I told them they weren’t and so they should not waste both of our time. One of them wrote something while the other called someone on their phone and told them to hurry.

The caller asked to check my computers for pirated material and I declined. At this point, I asked to see some sort of identification and prove that they were indeed who they said they were. They did. Then the two council askaris decided there was nothing I could do and they will check even if I refuse. I stood my ground and told them to go to hell or bring a warrant. Unfortunately, things don’t work like that in this country. They restrained me and gained access to one of the computers. It was no point fighting off three grown ass men so I let it go but not for long.

I saw the mop at one corner of the room and in it a great weapon. Without any thoughts I took it and attacked my oppressors. Three of them ran out but the guy going through the computer wasn’t quick enough so he got served. Several punches before he hit the door. The caller promised me misery.

They ran to get the police. My two assistants who were kinda dumb-founded when the scuffle ensued composed themselves and tried to talk sense into me. They argued that I should just pay the council askaris and the anti-piracy goons off and let them be. The damage was already done, I told them. The police came and took me in.

Three days of remand, threats, intimidation and extortion. Three days in a hell hole. All for money. Well, they had me convinced I may never see anyone I knew for a long time unless I bribed someone. How much? Thirty thousand bob. Well you read write, sh. 30,000. I ended up paying sh. 20,000 but it hurts. It hurts to think that someone might have orchestrated this whole show and enjoyed my misery in the shadows. It hurts that the very people supposed to serve and protect us are our predators. I have heard it said that some people would rather meet gangsters at night than meet the police. I think now I know why.

Am I alone in my predicament? You tell me.

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Signed: Dr. Mwas
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Part 1: Poor Beggars

I have heard it said more than once that Kenya is a country of ten millionaires and ten million peasants. If you ask me, I think Kenya is a country of tens of millionaires, tens of millions of poor people and wall in between them. Everyday the rich are getting richer and the poor are getting poorer. It’s the story of our lives.

When a government is made up of hungry hyenas who eat even their own children, a big gap develops between the authorities and their subjects. More often than not, various characters take advantage of the gap created for personal gains. This only adds to the disillusion already rooted in the public. People will always see the government as the enemy. No leader, especially the politicians, remembers he was put there by a society that had faith and believed in him.

When people cry to the government to fill the gap and it ignores them, crime happens. Gangs sprout to govern areas ignored by the administration. They extort, kill, rob, rape and perform other inhumane injustices to the people they claim to police and protect. Those same gangs form coalitions and alliances with the state police and henceforth, they would be untouchable.

When the cry of the people becomes too great, sects are formed. I am not pointing fingers here but that is how a movement like Mungiki thrives. It exploits the gaps left by the central government. It preaches hope and ends up the personal gainer. Just look at what is happening to the matatu industry. How does one go about reversing the whole cycle after they stood there and watched it all happen?

After decades of grand corruption, Kenya’s economy has been reduced to what you could refer to as a past-retail-date retired whore. There is no more revenue to sustain the big mouths of the politicians and the big guys at the top. They are living like kings yet Kenya isn’t a monarchy. In their big tinted cars and helicopters, they see themselves as semi-gods.

The other day I was analyzing the stock market and one thing stood out very clearly: It’s the rich man’s playing field. It’s been proven that if you know what you are doing, you can make millions of shillings from the stock market. Take a stock like Kakuzi, for example. If you bought its shares towards the end of January, now your investment has yielded about 25% (beginning of March). Imagine you had about half a million shillings to play with.

Its time people stopped fearing the monsters that govern them. Civil justice is very sweet. Stand up for the future, don’t live for today...

[[ ...to be continued.]]

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Signed: Dr. Mwas
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At Dawn

Dan stared out into the night, wishing he had a place where pain was a different version of what he felt everyday. He wished he had a home, no matter how unwelcoming. His stomach rumbled and reminding him of something he was all too aware of. The last meal he had was a day ago but he was used to the hunger pans. In fact, Dan consoled himself with the fact that his body had become accustomed to long hours on an empty stomach. His friends called it a survival technique. They slept out in the open, in dark alleys.

His friends were a couple of years older than him. They made him do all the hard work and run more errands than fair. They were all he had and he would rather die than branch out on his own. Dan therefore, did his and most of their part without complaint. Someone had to keep the family together, he consoled himself. He sniffed away at his tube and did his part.

Dan and his friends usually worked at the garbage site. They collected recyclable plastic and paper and sold to some guy who they didn’t care where he took it. The arrangement worked most of the time but sometimes the buyer didn’t come for days. They had to beg for food at times. When begging didn’t work, they resulted to harassment, mugging and shoplifting. The authorities were always after the gang. They had a right to. Dan’s family was not the most law abiding entity. They had to do what they had to just to survive another day.

Trouble and tragedy were always sniffing in Dan’s way. One night in town, a mugging almost went terribly wrong. The victim was a plain clothes policeman. When they came upon him, he whipped out his pistol and fired at them. Luckily no one got hurt. Two months later, Alex and Ben were lynched by an angry crowd who cornered them after snatching a mobile phone and a handbag from a couple near a bus stop. The two were older members of Dan’s gang.

Aged fourteen, Dan saw a bleak future for himself. Everyday he asked God what he did to deserve the kind of life he had. He wondered what kind of mother would let her child rot in the streets. Why was the world so cruel to him? Where were all the good Samaritans? Did anyone even notice he existed? No answer.

The day the government resolved to round them all up and absorb them to the youth service and the education system, Dan saw light at the end of the tunnel. He read opportunity in the initiative. He never imagined going to school at all. He never thought he would. Now, he actually had a chance at life and he was going to take it. When the officials came to take him and his friends to government training institutions he was ecstatic. He ended up at a children’s orphanage. There, he would be fed, clothed, schooled and accommodated. He woke up at dawn the next morning rested and warm. It was the dawn of the first day of the rest of his life.

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Signed: Dr. Mwas
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My Motherland

My eyes are sore. I have cried for you for far so long. Looking at you now through, teary bloodshot eyes, I can’t help pitying you. However, pity on you is pity on me. You are my mother, my father, my brother and my sister. You are my heritage, my roots and my future. You are me.

I sit on the sidelines everyday and watch as my eldest brothers and sisters fight with our cousins. Wearing expensive suits and driving those big cars you would think they have anything between their ears, inside their skulls. They have grown horns, they no longer neither listen to us, the young ones nor pay any attention to the words of their wise parents and elders. Greed and senseless hunger for power is eating them alive. All they see us for is their slaves and clueless packs of hyenas. Hyenas they can get rid of when we serve our purpose in their endless quest for power and show for might.

I weep for my brothers and sisters born second after our eldest. In their rush to support our elder kinsmen, they trample over us. They forget they will need us to line with or behind them on judgment day. They forget that we are their soul source of resources. They treat us like outlaws, like we don’t belong. They take us for granted.

Many of my peers are lost. Time and again, they allow themselves to be treated like tree stumps or recyclable plastic. They fall farther into nothingness every time our eldest stage one of their show of might parades. Many result to cheap consumables that eat them away like cancer and many others sink into grave poverty. For the rest of us, everyday is a fight just to survive. We make endless sacrifices that only God notices. Very few of the vultures that are our eldest and second born kinsmen and cousins notice let alone recognize our efforts.

I thank God for our elders. By elders, I mean all the wise people out there trying to drum sense into the madly selfish world I live in. Before you quote me out of context, wise does not necessarily mean old. I salute all of our brothers, sisters and cousins telling our stories back to us and to our neighbors; near, far and wide. Traditionally, warriors were and still should be protectors. I respect those few of our warriors that have not and are not contemplating crossing over from protectors to predators. For all of you who are like me; fighting to take back our respect and restoration of law, order and justice; you hold a special place in my heart.

Let this be a warning to all of you brothers, sisters and cousins. I am on a warpath and I am fighting to survive. You have walked on me for so long. I am tired of your constant lies and empty promises. I refuse to follow you anymore. I am going my own way, a righteous one and I will find justice.

Cleanse your houses and cultivate love before I get to your doorstep. I am burning down your bridges of hate, tribalism and ethnicity. I am knocked down all your walls within which filthy corrupt deals are made. I am distilling all your hate-filled messages and cutting out your poisonous tongues. It is not revenge. I have to take back my motherland.

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By George Mwangi
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