Prichard Mhlanga

All my life, I felt a little different to everyone around me because of my mental, material being. This started when I turned around 10 years of age. Some may relate to this, because at that age you develop a self-awareness, a sense of being. You become overwhelmed by emotions in your material being. Personally, I had a lot of questions of who I was, but never got an answer. Looking around, I saw everyone was created the same — two eyes, ears, nostrils, two hands. I see people with disabilities as well, but which was normal because of our local inequalities and love of all.

As it says in the Divine Principle, a person's value comes from his or her inner self. Before I knew God, my physical disability contributed to my belief, because when I looked at myself physically, I was different — with an attitude not like anyone I met. With that awareness, I knew who I was for many years until I had a revelation becoming a Christian. We get these revelations. In Genesis 1:26–27, it says that God created male and female in his own image. He was not speaking of our physical but our spirit, because he is the Lord of the spirit and of all.

I then zoomed in on the word "image." I looked at the Hebrew language — forgive my Hebrew. The meaning is related to nature, the immaterial part of man, rather shadow. "Related to nature" stood out for me, which led me to the world and all the features, forces, processes that happen or exist independently of people — meaning God causes everything to exist, such as the weather, the sea, mountains, the production of young animals, along with us human beings, and plants. Humans reproduce humans, animals reproduce animals, a plant produces plants, and so on.

Meaning God gave us his attribute to create — that's all creation. We are spiritual beings in an earthly world. For us to function we need a physical body, to reproduce and to do what he created us to do. Because we rejoin in spirit when we leave this earthly place for our heavenly home, which gives me comfort and should give you comfort as well. But this body that we have is just a shell. It's just a shell of who we are. And now I understand why he created me the way I am.

Going back to the way I felt and look — my name is Nlanda Prichard Mhlanga, tongue twister. I was born in Zimbabwe — for the elders, Rhodesia — in 1995. I am one in a thousand of human beings: of God's creation and human reproduction, born with polydactyly, a genetic mutation which is sometimes called a variant. Which may mean I'm the same as everyone but a different version — for example, you once held an iPhone 5; I'm an iPhone 6. Literally, I was born with six fingers — two thumbs, four fingers. Those with an aptitude for mathematics and literacy will know what we're called. Which made me a brilliant rock climber, by the way, and I was good at box sports.

Four fingers meant I was insecure, anxious, angry and lonely growing up. This made me vicious and a bully because of the mutation as a child — I made sure not to be bullied. I told other children I was an alien robot — I don't want to lie — to make them afraid of me. It was like a defensive mechanism. That went on for many years. When people mentioned my mutation, forget flight, I'll fight. I'll fight them so no one dare make fun of me. To top it up, I hung around with bullies and became one, so I wouldn't be bullied.

I grew up hiding my mutation, because I became really good at it. If anyone found out about it, they got silenced — or became a friend so they could keep the secret. Otherwise, I became hostile to other children, which meant sometimes I was not invited to other kids' houses to play with them. Because of my outbursts and anger, I became a master of lies, manipulation and deceit. Just to be like everyone around me.

I remember growing up being so angry all the time — at both my parents, family members and friends — because of the way I was born, or the way I thought everyone treated me if they knew my secret, if they knew the truth. In turn, I became a rebel. Rather, a red sheep. Because the voice in my head convinced me different, and it became really loud. It was telling me I'm like the devil's child, and I don't have a mother, and I don't have a father, and all sorts. Because I never met anyone like me before — even until now, I haven't met anyone born with six fingers.

I was always in fights — kissing other children, alone with family — and trying many substances. I later sold them. Growing up, I didn't know who my father was. And my mother left me as a child in Africa, in Zimbabwe. So I was raised by my family back home. My uncle changed my life — I'll tell you that. I love my whole family to bits, because they raised me and tried so much to make me have a healthy upbringing and for me to have peace with myself.

I still deal with a lot of anger and resentment. Growing up, I didn't neglect — this was caused by the evil voice in my head. Many times I wanted to self-harm, and I wished never to be born. But my family never stopped showing me their love and a sense of belonging — moreover, that I had a mother who loved me and a God who watched over me. I never hated their teachings, but often listened to the voice that told me otherwise, because it was the voice that I knew. It was the voice that gave me comfort, gave me a sense of persona — I'm this guy, I'm not like everyone else. That's the voice I listened to all my life.

Going back to my mother — my mother left me in 2000 for a European tour. She's a musician. She was there for the break dance festival, the choir festival, then decided to reside in the UK during a tour over Europe, for a better future. But this was for me as well. I personally never understood it, because I was told she was having another child here in the UK.

The voice came back, saying, "You're privileged now. You're privileged. You're not allowed to look at her. She left you here. And now she's having another kid, having another child." Which is my lovely little sister. That went on for a long time. And my grandfather passed away in 2009, which didn't make it easy for my family, and my behavior worsened. Because he was the only father figure I knew. He made sure to naturally correct me, to be on the right path. When I veered off, he naturally got me back into the right direction.

Without him in my life, I continued listening to the evil voice. I was chucked out of school when I was fading, ravaging and falling, because I was up to no good — I never attended lessons. I hid for a few months, and when my family found out I was older. I remember my grandma taking me to church services.

A lot of prayers were made — for me to have peace with myself, and for me to join my mama. Thanks to my family and God, our prayers were answered. But still, I had that voice in my head — it went on for many years, even while I was here with my mother. I carried all my bad days with me, all my secrets, all that I'd done before, at a young age. I never listened to my mom, my family, friends — they all went out and told me about me, about self-will. If you believe in yourself, that's the devil trying to trick you, playing mind tricks with you. I became a slave to that voice, to my ways.

The end of that life — it says in the Bible, Romans 12 verse 2: "Be not conformed to this world, but be transformed by the renewal of your mind, that ye may prove what is good, and what is the acceptable and perfect will of God." I'd done the opposite to that, honestly — I didn't know better. When I was 16, I decided to have a saviour — to have my dreads down and to take it — going against God. It was a spite in me, because my family was telling me I was gifted; I just walked against their beliefs. Deep down I knew I was breaking, because of the laws around me, because of the people around me.

All I knew was the voice — and God's voice — and he told me otherwise. So since I cut my dreads down, I followed the world, because I wanted to be like everyone. I've got 10 fingers, I've got 10 — I'm like everyone. So I started practicing so much, which led me to the law of cats, to be honest. But let me go back to those ones. Since then I followed the world, and it got revealed to me that what I had cut off was knowledge and a plan for me. I ran myself through and fled.

A few years later, I found out who my dad was — and that my mother was raped; she never consented. That just fueled my anger and rebellious behavior. I was practicing, off my head. So I started selling drugs, drinking, doing drugs myself excessively, leading me to fighting, adultery, getting arrested.

In the midst of that, I felt the love and the grace of God. I never went without — I had nice jobs. And when I got arrested, I was never put in jail. So I knew there was someone there coming after me. I didn't know then about Ephesians 2 verse 10: "For we are his workmanship, created in Christ Jesus unto good works, which he has made and ordained that we should walk in them." I believed in myself, and thus became rapacious — selfish, manipulative — in other words, very sinful.

Until the day God took away my appetite. It's crazy when God takes away your appetite for what you used to do. In my case, when I drank or used substances, I would black out — so it was not out of joy anymore. It was fortunate, because you forget about things. But I was losing all my connections: my family, jobs, friends, homes, associates. I was sleeping from reality with a poisonous portion. I was turning into a fictional character. Jack went high — alcohol was poisonous to my soul and spirit.

The time my eyes were opened to the truth was the last time I was arrested. I woke up in my cell with no recollection of the night before — oily, frenzy, distorted sensations. Something at that time reminded me of all the times I was in that predicament for the same reason, with the same fear. I was repeating and repeating everything that I was doing, until I was twenty-seven.

I recall bowing down in prayer. The only time I'd done that before was when my family forced me to — but this time it was by my own will, and by the Spirit, to show that there's something more. The only time I was ever rescued from a cell and set free, it was for a reason — for this reason: to pray in desperation. And this was a prayer I will never forget.

The words were: "I'm sorry for all I have done. I need help. Please get me released from this cell, because this time I'm facing jail time. If you answer my prayer, I'll seek professional help, and I'll follow you." I didn't know what that prayer meant. Be careful what you pray for.

The out-loud voice went quiet as soon as I finished that prayer. And I heard the Spirit. The Lord was working through the whole interview that followed — as all creation waits for his goodness in Christ, it doesn't matter what race, religion, or form you are. The God who still uses — nearby, in my area — will never leave your chest.

I was surprised, and I knew I was directed somewhere. I was quite a crazy human being, but I rushed into a church. Through the door, I told them, "I need help." The deacon — it was a Catholic church — pushed me to sit in a room. I looked over my shoulder, and then he directed me to their crypt; I was quite a suspect. He told me there was a charity there called Prof.

I was like — wow, I cannot make this up. When we got downstairs, they were shocked to see me, because people are normally referred to the charity. But by God's grace, they allowed me to share my story. I told them there were always voices in my head, and that I was seeking professional help. All that event directed me to the manager, who had overheard my story and told me of a place called the Cactus House.

The Cactus House — it sounds like a pub! I was like, are you serious? But it was a Christian residential placement, and it was the best decision I've made in my life. When she told me about it, I remembered my prayer. I made a choice to register with them — but I was told there was a waiting list, which discouraged me, and the other voice came back loud again, telling me, "You won't get there; why not get yourself a council flat?"

So I went to the council housing — I'm from Tower Hamlets — and they listened to my story. I was waiting on blessings for both: the Cactus House and the council flat. I was praying with the pastors, because the charity that helped me had connections with the council, with East London, with Tower Hamlets — all the congregations there support this charity. They housed me for a month: they fed me, they clothed me, they put a shelter over my head. I never thought it was possible — but nothing is impossible.

I remember receiving the call — two weeks later — from the church, saying I'd been accepted and would be moving in within two weeks. Right after, I received another call from the council, saying they had a place for me and I could move in any time. Then again, it was a reminder of the prayer I had made — I had two choices: one of repentance, one of repeating. I chose repentance, which was going to be a crucial turning point. Since then I've been listening to the voice that is soothing, which tells me to do the righteous deeds of the Lord — not the voice of repeating my selfish behavior, which I listened to all my life, leading me into loneliness.

The love of God—that really brought me down into pieces. But they would stretch through their hearts: why have you decided to do this? I saw that I had pain points. One was neglect—neglect of food to the Lord, and loneliness in the Lord. I passed through that. But I came and faced those demons, proved them, and gave them to the Lord.

My faith is the faith mentioned in Psalm 139—"For you created my inmost being; you knit me together." Your words are wonderful, I know that full well. Since making the best decision of my life, God floated through the prayer. He rose to the call of Jesus—from drugs, from alcohol, from acid. I live for Jesus, the Son of David. His name abounded with life—that life, and the joy of the Spirit.