To be honest, I never quite felt like I belong. I always figured there may be something off with me. I remember my mom literally had to force me to go to the Saturday church services tailor-made to train young ones to be one with God and to preach the gospel. We would be there for a certain time/months then finally we would finally graduate.
For others, the gospel came about so easily, for me, it felt like someone was trying to make me understand something in a language I am not familiar with. I even went on to try to memorize the names of the scriptures and to remember what the verses spoke of but I failed. I, later on, tried the newest versions of the Book, which left me feeling like a failure because I mean, this was supposed to come easy to me. The new versions sounded better, but it was still too much information for me to process.
At the services, they would get to a point where they force each of us to speak on the verse of the day. I would sit back and watch in awe how so many of my peers started sounding like the elders in our church. I would feel my heart beat ten thousand times louder and I would begin to sweat a bit. Every now and then I would look at the watch and hope I am saved by the bell. I would start contemplating going to the loo or just running away, but I knew this was important for my mom and so I stuck around. Randomly they would choose people and then, my turn. I would wake up and think I am speaking loud only to find out that I had been whispering. Unlike my peers, no one would nod and feel the power of the Holy Ghost as I spoke, no one commented, and no one connected….it was like those moments in radio drama where crickets chirped. I would then sit down, so embarrassed, and wish the ground could swallow me.
I couldn’t quite explain it but something about going to church did not feel right. I literally always felt like I could have been happier elsewhere. Maybe it was all the expectations or the language or the constant contradictions in the scriptures or the slow songs often led by an old lady who cannot sing to save her life….I still don’t know what the matter was. *sigh*
With that being said, I still gave The Book a chance and I had more questions than answers. I couldn’t relate to any of the characters. They didn’t seem anything like me and they surely didn’t portray the world as I know it. The films portrayed them as white, and I am black. Where were my people then? Why was Satan always the black guy?
Eish, I shouldn’t question The Book…it’s a sin!!!!
Wait, how come I don’t have any memory of my dad going to church?
Jane Mpholo is an award-winning multidisciplinary artist, entrepreneur, and changemaker from Botshabelo, South Africa. As CEO of Jane Mpholo Pty Ltd, she is pioneering work in theatre, film, and site-specific performance art. The first recipient of the CCIA’s “Outstanding Actor in Theatre” award, she has performed, written, and produced for national and international stages. Honored with two honorary awards from Onalerona Productions NPC and the Southern Region Women in Media Awards, she is a mentor, producer, and advocate for inclusivity. Through bold storytelling, she sparks important conversations, shaping the performing arts landscape and inspiring change worldwide.
