Dumi walked from the station to his home. On his way, he tried to phone his girlfriend to tell her to come out, because he was passing by her place.

She opened her curtain and peered through the window. Dumi watched this as he waited for her at the gate. She walked over to him and slapped him hard. Dumi raised his right hand to his left cheek.

“Babe, what the hell?” asked Dumi as he stared down at his lover

“You disgust me, Dumi! I can’t even look at you!” She frowned at him, and then ran back into the house crying.

On Saturday morning, Dumi asked his cousin Joel if he wanted to go to church with him.

“Which church, bro?” enquired Joel.

“The one in town, on Smith Street,” answered Dumi.

“Nah, thanks cuz, I ain’t falling for that trap.”

“Well then, I’ll see you when I come back.”

His cousin laughed at him. “That’s if you’re lucky.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Dumi stopped what he was doing and looked at his cousin.

“Oh nothing, man. Go on, get ready. Don’t be late.”

Just then, Dumi received a WhatsApp message from Pearl: Hope you’re ready. Give me directions to your house ASAP. I’m on my way…

Dumi quickly typed out a reply: Almost ready. K704 Nkankane Road.

Dumi threw his phone onto the sofa in the corner of his room. He put on his navy chino pants, his white long sleeve shirt with little black flowers printed on it and his formal shoes.

He went up to the sitting room to ask his cousin how he looked.

“Hope to see you soon brother. Take care of yourself,” Joel said, sounding troubled.

“Ayt boet, I’ll take care of myself, I always do.”

Minutes later, Pearl showed up at the front door, wearing smart clothes. They went to catch a taxi. The taxi was soon in town. They got off at a workshop and walked to Smith Street, where the church was situated.

From the entrance of the church, it looked as if all the seats were taken, until they got to the middle rows, where they saw that there was a lot of space and many empty seats. The front section also had quite a number of people who were seated. Dumi stood still by the door, looking around. Finally, he looked back at Pearl as if to say, “what now?”

“That’s just one of the many rules of church,” Pearl explained. “New members sit in the front. You’ll be fine. I’ll come to check on you every chance I get.” Pearl shrugged and pushed him forward. She went to the side and joined a young white man who kept his eyes glued on Dumi as he walked up the aisle to the front of the church.

The service began at 09:00. Dumi kept checking his wristwatch. When he checked it again it was 10:23. So far, so good. Nothing odd or suspicious had happened thus far. Pearl came up to him and handed him a nicely wrapped little box.

“When it’s offering time, go forward and put this on the floor. Someone will give you a red ribbon. Stick that ribbon onto the pocket of your shirt,” she whispered, then disappeared through a door on the side of the main stage.

Shortly after Pearl had gone through the door, the pastor who was hosting the service started to sprinkle some reddish liquid on the people seated at the front and it stained Dumi’s white shirt with red markings. “OK, now this is a problem, I don’t like what he’s doing,” thought Dumi to himself. He had no idea of what lay ahead.

The offering time came. People queued to go forward to place their offers, including Dumi. Some people had huge bags, while others had parcels the same size as Dumi’s. When Dumi reached the front, he almost fainted. He just stood there, out of breath. He could not think or imagine anything as heartwrenching as the sight in front of him.

He quickly unwrapped the box in his hands and opened it to find an even more terrifying thing. He dropped the box and a hand came rolling out of it, the size of a baby. Dumi fled from the church and didn’t stop running until he was back at the workshop. He bent forward and propped his upper body by holding onto his knees with both his hands. He was gasping for air. He didn’t realise that everyone was staring at him with looks of pity in their eyes.

A man walked up to him and asked him what the matter was. He just looked at the man and after a long while he looked at his white shirt that was covered in bloodstains. “I’m going to be fine,” he answered. He got up and walked slowly to the taxi rank down in the Market Road.

Tell us what you think: What kind of church did Dumi land up in? What would you do if you were in his shoes?