there’s a buzz all around. the chicks i sit with (urgh!) are all giddy with excitement. they are gearing up for the namboole thingy. there’s this american guy, paul crouch or something like that, coming round with his TBN crew.
they are talking of nothing else. when i ask them why they must not miss the thing, they look at me like i’m the guy who threw the first stone during the melee that brought down pastor kayanja’s glass palace.
but the fact is that they want to be there because of the TV. TBN is coming to town and they are not going to miss this “historic opportunity.” to do what? they are ready to be gropped in the scuffle to enter and to lose their precious purses just to be part of the blur when the show is on.
even when they appear on screen in a close up, no one will remember them except the three friends who’ll be passing on their way from the kitchen to get a cup of cocoa. they’ll get a call the next day and then after that, no one will remember the event.
is it TBN or pastor Bentley? fact is, i’ve never understood the fervour with which my peeps lap up media attention.
count me out.