Episode 2 – Batunga meets God
…And so it was that Batunga Knoboo found himself sitting atop a sun-baked hilltop, somewhere deep within the African hinterland; legs crossed, eyes shut, relaxed and swimming in a sea of his own consciousness. He was navigating the many channels and tributaries that his memory had carved out; picking up long forgotten mementoes that would suddenly kick-start a train of memories. Batunga Knoboo, the nerdy kid with the big afro who everybody picked on in school. The shy and insecure kid too scared to approach girls in case he pissed his pants or worst still if he got a hard-on. His mind floated above the landscape of his memories; he remembered the time when he had once developed an almighty crush on a girl in his English class; her name was, surprisingly, Cookie. A sweet little thing she was too, slender frame, pert little breasts, a certain walk (equivalent to the peacocks tail) that left tongues wagging and eye sockets empty with their contents in the ceiling, and then she had those eyes; these sultry eyes that sucked you in and could drown a 1,000 men. Just looking into those dark eyes would leave a man defenceless. Every morning, before school, Batunga would pump himself up into a mental mindset as follows:
“Ok if I see her in school, I’m just gonna walk pass as if she’s not there. Just gonna walk pass. My mind is elsewhere. I see nothing. I hear nothing. Feel nothing. Like the wind I will float by…like the wind I will disappear. Like the wind I will be gone…”
This mantra he’d repeat to himself on his way to school everyday. And what would actually happen?
He’d see her advancing towards him from the other end of the corridor. Her frame swaying in slow motion like branches in the breeze, her smile lighting up everything it fell on, her hips swaying and those eyes like a black hole of the soul. As she approached, Batunga’s control over his bodily functions would start to deteriorate. His arms were usually the first to go, not knowing what to do they’d start swaying around like pendulums; knocking over anything within radius. His knees were usually next, becoming weak and unable to carry the weight above, they’d start buckling under the strain, leaving him with a limp and awkward walk. Then his eyes-balls would start doing funny things; tumbling and swivelling around his sockets like billiard balls, then his pores would suddenly snap open releasing a deluge of sweat that would start working its way down from his brow; his cheeks a-flush, his tongue lolling around like an suffocating eel and his spit cappuccino’d into a soapy lather that would start dripping down his mouth. Not a pleasant sight. If you didn’t know any better you’d say he was having a fit.
But the worst thing was that she never even noticed him. Never even noticed him! Never even noticed him turn into a human Cappuccino machine! This used to keep Batunga awake at night and he would mull over it over and over again. I mean, yeah it’s a good thing she never noticed him turning into a palpitating foam ball, but (and there is a but) how much it would have meant if she did notice him! Because if she noticed him it meant he would forever be imprinted inside her sweet little brain. Just being a memory inside her brain was enough; even if it was just “yeah, I remember Batunga, he’s the weird bloke with the foaming mouth and stringy walk” – At least he’d made an impact and had imprinted himself forever in her memory banks! But no! He couldn’t even manage that…
So, as Batunga sat on the lonely hilltop; the midget flies orbiting the dome of his head like satellites, the bird still wallowing away on the nearby Kapookoo tree and the shadows stretching like cling-film as the Great Orb in the sky descended behind the horizon; something really strange happened. Out of nowhere a divine ‘hand’ of some sort started prodding his head. He could feel it knocking on his skull. Knock-Knock. Knock-Knock. “Anybody home?” a deep voice boomed and echoed. The hand plucked Batunga out of his deep sojourn, disentangling him from the dream webs that we’re still attached and sat him down on a stool. This was awfully strange even for Batunga. “What the heck’s going on” he heard himself think
“Ahem” There was a little clearing of the throat
“Hi!” said the divine voice.
“Erm…let me introduce myself. I’m God. Ta-da!” - The little flourish at the end only served to further confuse Batunga
The divine voice of God continued. “Yes, I was afraid that this would happen. These introductions always tend to be shocking experiences. You see, I’ve tried to make them less shocking but to no avail. I’ve been practicing how I would greet you. Initially I thought perhaps I should start with a joke or something, you know just to break the ice; like “how do you stop an African man dancing in a club? – Answer: Put Velcro everywhere – Hahaha!”
Batunga looked on, not at all impressed with God’s little joke.
“And then I realised that telling a joke would not be appropriate as a way of introduction, so I should stick with something more formal. Anyway, here I am! I am god! I gather you’ve been dying to meet me. dying – hahaha-snort!!”
Batunga looked on, perplexed as ever. ”If this guy is God, he’s a total twat” he thought
“Can I ask you a little question?” asked God
Batunga gave a slow little nod.
“Ok, what do you think of my accent?” said God sheepishly
Batunga looked on, mortified with the question
God continued.
“Well the reason I ask is that as God I had a wide selection of accents to choose from. You know there was Mandarin (too tinny), Australian (too common), Indian (too willing to obey - Yes Sir!, Jee Sir!), American (too dumb and inbred), South African (too guttural). In the end it came down to Cockney English, Scottish or Thames Estuary. As you can tell I’ve selected Thames Estuary; I think Cockney English would have been a little risqué ‘Na a mean geez?! – Hahahaha!’
Batunga never twitched a muscle. Still too shocked at what he was witnessing.
“I think as God, I have to choose an accent that would convey my superiority over animal, vegetable and mineral; an accent that would be commanding, dominant, easy to understand and warm. I think I’ve succeeded don’t you think?” Said God looking for some reassurance.
Batunga nodded an unceretain little nod.
“Oh, and remind me, after we’re done I’m gonna hand you a little form I’d like you to fill out. Just a little feedback form on what you thought of my introduction and where you think there’s room for improvement. I think even God needs constructive feedback. Hahaha – snort!”
“Anyway here’s the deal” and then god started whispering into Batunga’s ears. He started filling his mind with what he wanted Batunga to do...
As God continued whispering and the plan un-folded, the Orb of the sun reddened to Cranberry and then smashed itself to millions of little shards on the horizon, the bird on the Kapookoo tree gave up it’s incessant warbling and flitted off to bother someone else and the billions of stars attached to the dome of the sky smiled down upon Batunga. A smile that said “We are yours now”…
To be continued…
