REFLECTIONS: PROF. JONES K. KASONSO
By
Wynegood G. Malunga
Chongwe, Zambia
September 3, 2026
10:21 hrs. 3-minute read
I was just thinking.
It all began a few years ago when I began to think that there was something strange and wrong going on in Prof. Jones Kasonso’s life.
I had known Jones from around the beginning of the year 2000 when he was introduced to me by my late sister, Elizabeth Harrison, in Ndola. He had earlier received his education in America before returning to Zambia. He was not as big in body size at the time but a very slim young man.
At the time, I first met him, Jones was pastoring a small branch of Vineyard Church which met at what was The Captain’s Cabin Restaurant in Ndola every Sunday, before they moved to Sansa School main hall.
So, he was Pastor Jones Kasonso at the time. My sister was in leadership in that church and I became friends with him. I sometimes attended some special services at his church and would visit his home and he would do the same.
At the time, I felt the man had a good heart, dedicated to the work of God. He lived in an apartment with two young men who helped him in his ministry, first at Premium Plaza at Kansenshi and later at Zambia State Insurance Flats on Petauke Road, Kansenshi.
Just a month ago, a friend and I drove past those flats and I took pictures of the exact flat in which he lived and sent the pictures to him, asking if he remembered the place. He didn’t. I reminded him and he was absolutely thrilled.
When he was in Ndola, Jones was single and had the time to meet people, small Bible study gatherings in his flat, prayer sessions and just general conversation. The first time I was invited to one of his services, I was kind of amused at his preaching style. It was the first time I saw a preacher reading his sermon from a laptop. At some point during the sermon, one of the assistants would take over the reading of the message before he made a return.
One day, he bought a car and was learning how to drive. I advised him to go to a driving school and learn how to properly drive and get a license.
Some time later, Jones just vanished. None of us had any idea where he was. The young men who lived with him had no idea. Days passed. He was nowhere to be found.
Information later reached us that Jones had been involved in a car crash somewhere near Kapiri Mposhi and had been hospitalized. Friends who went to Kapiri found him, handcuffed to his bed under police guard. He had a deep cut on his head and other wounds elsewhere. The vehicle was totaled and could only be broken up for spares. But Jones was alive.
The car was not insured, no road tax and he had no license. By God’s grace, they did not charge him and he was able to return to Ndola upon discharge from the hospital.
I gave him a big lesson on responsibility. That is when he told me what happened. After the crash, he was trapped inside the car with his head caught in the windscreen. He felt life drifting away and he knew he was dying. In a brief moment, he asked God to save him.
The next thing he saw was a huge glowing being appear, yank the broken windscreen away, grab him and pull him out and carry him to safety. The being, an angel, of course, laid him on the ground and vanished. God saved him. He continued with his ministry with more zeal.
One day, he came home to tell me that he was getting married and needed help. I did help and even designed and printed the invitation cards. The wedding took place, he didn’t invite me and when I met him, later, I gave him a piece of my mind and, oh my, he was so sorry. He had been overwhelmed. We laughed it off.
I never met him again from that time because my family and I left the country for a few years. With the advent of Facebook, I noticed he was back in America and was quite active on social media but his language had changed.
My sister Elizabeth who once served in Jones’ Church was one not to take any nonsense concerning life and God. There was a flurry of bitter exchanges between the two with my sister not happy with his lifestyle, particularly language which was not Christlike. I privately asked my sister not to continue with the exchange.
When the video of Jones and his wife in a public confrontation on the street in America went viral, I messaged him telling him I wanted to talk to him. He called me but he was incoherent. I gave him some fatherly and brotherly advice which he thanked me for.
Apart from the pictures of his flat which I sent him a month ago and a little chat, I never spoke to Jones again. It was also clear that we were on opposite sides of the political divide. I never commented on what he posted on Facebook, mostly hurtful language and he never commented on mine. Though much younger than me, I felt that respect for him was necessary. He respected me with his silence as well.
Just like you and I know he hurt many people because of his political belief and language, there are also many who loved and appreciated him for that. That’s the way life goes.
This morning, I woke up to the news that he is gone. Apart from the memories I have shared, I have nothing else to say. I pray for the comfort of those Prof. Jones Kasonso leaves behind.
It’s Just a Thought
Wynegood G. Malunga