Dead battery

Friday August 23 2019


By Mark Kawalya

It was a cold rainy Sunday morning. The kind of Sunday morning that would have been nice to sleep in. He decided not to wake up his wife and daughter for church. The weather was unpleasant after all he reasoned.

He got himself ready and filled a travel mug with strong black coffee and left for the first church service. He was the kind that never missed church. One of those people that believes that a Christian is only as good as his church service attendances. The service was elaborate. He thoroughly enjoyed himself.

After the service he jumped into his car and turned the ignition. The car didn’t start. He whistled loudly knowing too well what had happened. His old car battery had run the course of its life. The same battery his wife had told him to get replaced countless times. “But this battery still has a lot of life in it.” He had dismissed her concerns like many a man would do.

It is a strange thing that women seem to have have a six sense. The things they warn you about as you refuse to listen often become reality much to your detriment. I am led to believe women are in cahoots with God or something.
He got out of the car and opened the bonnet. Another churchgoer stopped by and offered to help him jumpstart the car.

They hooked the two car batteries using a pair of jumper cables. He tried to start his car to no avail. The jumpstarting had failed. The Good Samaritan advised him to get the battery charged at one of those battery-charging shops at the taxi stage. This seemed like the only feasible option, since there wasn’t a trusted placed he could buy a replacement battery on a Sunday.
He unhooked the battery and got a lift with the Good Samaritan to the battery shop where the charging would take place. Come back in two hours he was told by the burly man wearing faded blue overalls.

What do you do in two hours? With a little creativity you can kill thirty minutes. But killing two hours requires next level creativity. So he bought a newspaper, walked into a restaurant and ordered for a cup of tea. He read through the whole newspaper including the horoscopes and obituaries since he had two hours to kill.


Finally the two hours were dead. He picked up the battery and returned to the church where he got the car started. But he wouldn’t tell his woman about this little incident. He knew only three words awaited him if he did. Words that would go like “I told you so.”