How I Met Mother Mary...
Nineteen years ago I had the wonderful pleasure of visiting Zimbabwe with a great group of friends from Edinburgh University. We raised funds on the streets of Edinburgh and then flew out to Zimbabwe via Jo'burg. Our goal: to support the building of an agroforestry training center in Guruve, Zimbabwe.
Well, last year Jillian, Liati, Lucia and I accompanied our friend Nigel to Guruve in search of some well-known marimba maker. I took advantage to seek out the training center we had built all those years ago, and to my complete and utter surprise I found it; and found it without needing to ask! It was still standing, albeit with a broken window or two; but it was empty, locked up and seemingly non-functional. Unfortunately that's a sign of the times all over rural Zimbabwe, as the economy is starting to take a nosedive since the last general election did not usher in a new and golden era for Zimbabwe (as many had high hopes for before). The hopeful days/years since the 2008/09 harmonized national elections and the formation of the Government of National Unity (GNU) are a thing of the past; all that is left is an increasingly dejected, disillusioned, disenfranchised and desperate general populace. But I digress....
And so our quest to find the marimba maker took us out of Guruve town to a remote cluster of homes and huts in the countryside near Chatiza village. It was a 'church' of some sort as we were told on the way there, with the marimbas used in church events and actual marimba competitions. We were met by a couple of men dressed in similar garb, namely khaki trousers and shirt with broad-brimmed hats with a hand-embroidered star and a wide leather bracelet. Something was awry but we just couldn't put our finger on it. We left Nigel to talk marimbas as we followed the sound of live drumming and ululating behind one of the thatched huts. We were met by a throng of women and children singing and drumming to no one in particular (maybe us?); we were led through the mass which parted for us and were guided into a fenced-off shrine area. There we found ourselves staring at a shrine of sorts that had all the various names for Jesus inscribed on it: Yeso, Penaty, Emmanuel, Sapinaty, Jekia, Solopia, Dhegame, Christo, Mwana, Ndini... I had no idea there are over 200 names for Jesus!?
But strangely enough I did not recognize a single one of them really; most of them seemed to be in a foreign language other than Shona or Ndebele (or any other Zimbabwean dialect for that matter). And in the middle of it all was a picture of a small black boy. How random. What's that boys picture doing up there, we thought, as we meandered along the shrine area with random water features here and there, and soapstone statues strewn throughout. Did we want to see Mother Mary, we were asked. "Sure, why not?!" We have some time to kill. "Let's go see that shrine!"
And so a boy in a Chelsea Football Club T-shirt leads us onwards and into the nearby bungalow, into a seemingly ordinary Zimbabwean middle-class home, replete with the ubiquitous oversized faux-leather and wood sofa set and TV churning out Nigerian soap operas. Jillian and I exchanged perplexed looks. There's no shrine here.... And then her facial expression turned to one of total surprise and disbelief as she stepped through the threshold first into a bedroom with an ornate four poster bed and was introduced to Mother Mary. Yes, Mother Mary in the flesh! With Father Joseph at her bedside.... proud parents of Tepsy Nyanhete... the second coming of Jesus Christ.
Oh yes, right there in a remote part of Mashonaland Central province in Zimbabwe. Unbeknown to us we had stumbled upon the Mudzimu Unoyera church and its cult followers (we learnt all this on our drive back to Harare as we performed the strangest Google search in our lifetime : ''black jesus of Guruve'). Father Jospeh swooped Lucia off her feet and passed her to Mother Mary (real name Entrance Nyanhete) who was lying in the bed. As the photo here attests, Lucia was NOT a happy camper, looking at Mother Mary with total distrust. As more of an afterthought they motion over to the corner of the room and introduce Mother Mary's mother, Grandmother of Jesus, who was lying in a heap in the corner of the room (presumably alive but we couldn't corroborate that at the time). With Lucia safely back in our custody Mai Maria (as she sometimes goes by) embarked on a prayer song as cult followers (including the boy with the Chelsea FC shirt) packed in behind us with hands clasped in front of them in prayer.
It is hard to put the full scene that surrounded us at the time into words... bizarro, weird, outerworldly, freaky, stupefying, bone chilling, scary... I could go on. You see, Mother Mary was lying in this ornate bed all bejeweled, all in white, donning a white crown with light blue headdress and snazzy Raybans! She was surrounded by the most eclectic offerings ever including - but not limited to - baby plastic baths with naked baby dolls, stuffed animals, hanging Tweety Bird beach ball, Zimbabwe national flag, tinsel, fake flowers, real lemons, footballs; and all surrounded by baby blue mosquito netting.
Suffice to say the song went for what seemed like an eternity, and by the end of it we were ready and rearing to extricate ourselves from that crazy moment. But not before they explained to us that she had been singing mostly in Tritnoi, their very own language. This explained all the strange names for Jesus, including their very own Jesus: Jepsy Nyanhete Jekia Mambo Tenzi. Unfortunately we couldn't meet the Second Jesus as she had gone on a shopping trip to Harare! And oh yes, Jesus is actually a girl, and is now 23 years old. And coincidentally her father is a carpenter... and she rides a donkey... CLEARLY she IS the second coming. All the signs are there!
Once out of that freak show we were shown the 'temple' which resembled more a school classroom with children's plastic chairs in a V formation with a silver stone-sculpted throne presiding over it all. More random offerings were strewn haphazardly throughout the room including mountain bikes, more plastic flowers and sculptures. On the walls were photos depicting baby jesus' life and family members interspersed with Robert Mugabe/ZANU-PF campaign posters. There was Baba Johwani aka John the Baptist, Olekan Lened aka Father Japlet, and Ishe Mambo Mhozisi aka Moses (Jepsy's younger sister!). Old newspaper clippings were taped to the wall with fantastic headlines: 'Jesus is ALIVE!', 'She is only six - but she's got her own disciples and church... Jesus of Zimbabwe', 'Like Jesus of Nazareth she rides a donkey...' Speaking of her younger sister Moses, supposedly a news crew went to the church and tried to lift the then-six year old Moses but could not, and so concluded she must have spiritual powers as "she was like a piece of iron stuck into the ground"!! You just CANNOT make this stuff up.
Oh, I could go on for hours about this experience, but I will finish off by saying that beneath the thin veneer of wackiness lay an even more bizarre and disturbing past involving police raids, Girl Jesus of Guruve enrolling in 1st Grade for a term, sister Moses being taken into custody in a foster home in Highfields, Harare, and Mother Mary spending the better part of a year in prison for beating up a policeman! If you want more salacious details on Jepsy... I mean, Second Jesus and the Mudzimu Unoyera church, see this recent article about her proclamation/vision that all her female followers should wear trousers from now on and this older article about the church's past malfeasance. After reading that we thanked our lucky stars that we managed to get away without incident but with one damn good story!
Next installment I will talk about more lighthearted and mundane things such as the art of ironing underwear, a tennis coach called Liberty and how it was to be interpreter to Miss World Heritage Ecuador 2013...
Well, last year Jillian, Liati, Lucia and I accompanied our friend Nigel to Guruve in search of some well-known marimba maker. I took advantage to seek out the training center we had built all those years ago, and to my complete and utter surprise I found it; and found it without needing to ask! It was still standing, albeit with a broken window or two; but it was empty, locked up and seemingly non-functional. Unfortunately that's a sign of the times all over rural Zimbabwe, as the economy is starting to take a nosedive since the last general election did not usher in a new and golden era for Zimbabwe (as many had high hopes for before). The hopeful days/years since the 2008/09 harmonized national elections and the formation of the Government of National Unity (GNU) are a thing of the past; all that is left is an increasingly dejected, disillusioned, disenfranchised and desperate general populace. But I digress....
And so our quest to find the marimba maker took us out of Guruve town to a remote cluster of homes and huts in the countryside near Chatiza village. It was a 'church' of some sort as we were told on the way there, with the marimbas used in church events and actual marimba competitions. We were met by a couple of men dressed in similar garb, namely khaki trousers and shirt with broad-brimmed hats with a hand-embroidered star and a wide leather bracelet. Something was awry but we just couldn't put our finger on it. We left Nigel to talk marimbas as we followed the sound of live drumming and ululating behind one of the thatched huts. We were met by a throng of women and children singing and drumming to no one in particular (maybe us?); we were led through the mass which parted for us and were guided into a fenced-off shrine area. There we found ourselves staring at a shrine of sorts that had all the various names for Jesus inscribed on it: Yeso, Penaty, Emmanuel, Sapinaty, Jekia, Solopia, Dhegame, Christo, Mwana, Ndini... I had no idea there are over 200 names for Jesus!?
But strangely enough I did not recognize a single one of them really; most of them seemed to be in a foreign language other than Shona or Ndebele (or any other Zimbabwean dialect for that matter). And in the middle of it all was a picture of a small black boy. How random. What's that boys picture doing up there, we thought, as we meandered along the shrine area with random water features here and there, and soapstone statues strewn throughout. Did we want to see Mother Mary, we were asked. "Sure, why not?!" We have some time to kill. "Let's go see that shrine!"
And so a boy in a Chelsea Football Club T-shirt leads us onwards and into the nearby bungalow, into a seemingly ordinary Zimbabwean middle-class home, replete with the ubiquitous oversized faux-leather and wood sofa set and TV churning out Nigerian soap operas. Jillian and I exchanged perplexed looks. There's no shrine here.... And then her facial expression turned to one of total surprise and disbelief as she stepped through the threshold first into a bedroom with an ornate four poster bed and was introduced to Mother Mary. Yes, Mother Mary in the flesh! With Father Joseph at her bedside.... proud parents of Tepsy Nyanhete... the second coming of Jesus Christ.
Oh yes, right there in a remote part of Mashonaland Central province in Zimbabwe. Unbeknown to us we had stumbled upon the Mudzimu Unoyera church and its cult followers (we learnt all this on our drive back to Harare as we performed the strangest Google search in our lifetime : ''black jesus of Guruve'). Father Jospeh swooped Lucia off her feet and passed her to Mother Mary (real name Entrance Nyanhete) who was lying in the bed. As the photo here attests, Lucia was NOT a happy camper, looking at Mother Mary with total distrust. As more of an afterthought they motion over to the corner of the room and introduce Mother Mary's mother, Grandmother of Jesus, who was lying in a heap in the corner of the room (presumably alive but we couldn't corroborate that at the time). With Lucia safely back in our custody Mai Maria (as she sometimes goes by) embarked on a prayer song as cult followers (including the boy with the Chelsea FC shirt) packed in behind us with hands clasped in front of them in prayer.
 |
| Mother Mary with a baffled and visibly disturbed Lucia! |
It is hard to put the full scene that surrounded us at the time into words... bizarro, weird, outerworldly, freaky, stupefying, bone chilling, scary... I could go on. You see, Mother Mary was lying in this ornate bed all bejeweled, all in white, donning a white crown with light blue headdress and snazzy Raybans! She was surrounded by the most eclectic offerings ever including - but not limited to - baby plastic baths with naked baby dolls, stuffed animals, hanging Tweety Bird beach ball, Zimbabwe national flag, tinsel, fake flowers, real lemons, footballs; and all surrounded by baby blue mosquito netting.
Suffice to say the song went for what seemed like an eternity, and by the end of it we were ready and rearing to extricate ourselves from that crazy moment. But not before they explained to us that she had been singing mostly in Tritnoi, their very own language. This explained all the strange names for Jesus, including their very own Jesus: Jepsy Nyanhete Jekia Mambo Tenzi. Unfortunately we couldn't meet the Second Jesus as she had gone on a shopping trip to Harare! And oh yes, Jesus is actually a girl, and is now 23 years old. And coincidentally her father is a carpenter... and she rides a donkey... CLEARLY she IS the second coming. All the signs are there!
 |
| The Mudzimu Unoyera 'temple' |
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| Jesus and His Donkey (not to be confused with Mugabe..ahem) |
Oh, I could go on for hours about this experience, but I will finish off by saying that beneath the thin veneer of wackiness lay an even more bizarre and disturbing past involving police raids, Girl Jesus of Guruve enrolling in 1st Grade for a term, sister Moses being taken into custody in a foster home in Highfields, Harare, and Mother Mary spending the better part of a year in prison for beating up a policeman! If you want more salacious details on Jepsy... I mean, Second Jesus and the Mudzimu Unoyera church, see this recent article about her proclamation/vision that all her female followers should wear trousers from now on and this older article about the church's past malfeasance. After reading that we thanked our lucky stars that we managed to get away without incident but with one damn good story!Next installment I will talk about more lighthearted and mundane things such as the art of ironing underwear, a tennis coach called Liberty and how it was to be interpreter to Miss World Heritage Ecuador 2013...
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