god help us

‘Hello, I want to book a ticket for a night of bliss with Pastor Chris.’

‘Oh yes. How many?’

‘Just me and one friend. How much are the tickets?’

‘How much? They are free. You don’t preach the gospel for a fee. It’s free.’

‘How many tickets are left?’

‘We have sold 100,000. I personally have 250 left.’

‘Will there be lots of different types of people?’

‘Everyone dear. We have Afrikaners like me, immigrants, Blacks, Coloureds, everyone. You will be welcome. Everyone comes to be healed.’

‘So it really is a night of bliss?’

‘Absolutely. Hundred percent. From six til dawn.’

Pastor Chris’ followers came to campus in a black Hummer. They drew up outside The Matrix shopping and food mall, turned the engine off, opened the doors, turned up the pop music, and sold the night of bliss. Large white male students shouted abuse:


‘Hypocrite!’ ‘How can you preach God when you drive a car like that?’ ‘You’re here to make money!’ ‘Load of shit!’ ‘I feel sorry for you, man!’

It was a strange moment. Large white male students yelling furiously at two skinny black students in baseball caps with Pastor Chris sewn across the front, above the peak. Who felt more threatened? Is a Hummer worse really much than a BMW, the car that I have seen more than a handful of students (of all colours) driving home from here? What if you also have a pool, regular holidays abroad, and long trips to your farm that’s three hours drive from Joburg? Who’s doing more damage? Mutterings mutterings… not enough time…