When Pastor Moyo retired after more than 30 years of active service he decided to return to his home village in the mountains of Zimbabwe. He and his wife fixed up the old family hut, and being in good health and having acquired a comfortable living, they soon contentedly situated.
But Inclemento, (not his real name), a neighbor of his of about the same age, and who grown up in the village with him, quickly became jealous of Pastor Moyo as he contrasted his own shabby circumstances to that of the retired pastor. More than that, Inclemento despised Christianity as a poisonous European import.
And so, acting on his jealousy and hatred, Inclemento went to the local military police substation in town about eight miles away and fabricated a story about how Moyo was acting as a plotter for the overthrow of the government, prompting the captain to send out a detachment of soldiers to kill Pastor Moyo. The soldiers upon arriving at Moyo’s home, without any semblance of official inquiry began to beat Pastor Moyo with unrestricted fury, at last leaving him for dead on the side of the road.
A few days later Inclemento passed by Moyo’s hut to see how his widow was getting along, when to his horror Inclemento saw a badly bruised and battered but still very much alive Pastor Moyo walking around inside his hut. Fearing now for his own safety, thinking that Pastor Moyo would seek to get revenge, Inclemento dashed off to the little military outpost once again and told them of Moyo’s mysterious survival. “If he reports us then we could all get into serious trouble with the government.”
And so another detachment of twelve soldiers were sent out determined to finish off Pastor Moyo for good this time. As the captain and his men cautiously approached the house they saw Pastor Moyo shuffling across his room and were about to raise their rifles to shoot him when they distinctly heard low, voices coming from a clump of trees about a dozen yards away. The captain whispered to his men saying, “We can get Moyo later. He can’t run. Let’s investigate those voices.”
Slowly they approached the trees from which the voices were coming they distinctly heard what sounded like a group of several men discussing a plot to overthrow the government. But just as the soldiers advanced the plotters moved off deeper into the trees. Several times the soldiers advanced on these plotters but each time they mysteriously eluded them. But the conversation continued as if the plotters had no idea that they were being overheard or that the soldiers were seeking to capture them. Following the voices the soldiers were baffled as to why they could not close in on these plotters or even get a view of the men discussing their plots.
Finally they heard the voices again, this time in a thick but isolated clump of trees about fifty feet away. Now they had them. Surrounding this isolated clump of trees and with no way of escape for these mysterious plotters, the soldiers went in, guns at the ready. Yet even as the soldiers advanced, the treacherous talk of the plotters continued without interruption. Bursting into a small clearing in the center of the clump of trees the soldiers were met with the view of six grazing donkeys. Here were the plotters the soldiers had overheard.
Looking at his men, the captain said, “Let’s return to base, and leave Moyo alone. We shouldn’t be bothering anyone with a God who protects him like this. There is no plot. We are fools, and Inclemento is a liar.”