X-FILES FROM THE VILLAGE - CHRISTMAS RUMBLINGS

 Monday 

As we grow old it is very easy to forget about things like "tsukulilo", those moving creatures we used to play with in the dust. Then the cassava pods which we used to balance on the tip and swing around. We would call them "mutukyele" as we sing "wachacha". Now we make cameras and planes out of paper for our young siblings! 

Tuesday 

We then pass by the village football field full of girls singing, wailing that you may think there is a death only to realise that the girls are hunting for ants "tsiswa". You hear the young girls calling onto the ants to come out to be eaten, in a sweet voice like the monster "Wanesilikhe" who wooed "Sela" in a sweet voice according to the common folktale. When the ants refuse to come out,  the girls' tone suddenly changes to cursing. You will typically hear them sing "woowoowoo woowoowoo tsingalabuyi, tsitanyisa kumurwe" meaning hunting for ants causes headache!

Wednesday 

After circumcision, the local surgeon commonly known as "umushebi" must induct the candidate about the basics to life. It is a long standing belief that boys don't spend much time with their fathers the way girls do with their mothers. It is therefore a pre-requisite for every boy that after initiation, they must be told things like not to urinate while on top a tree, not to sit on the cooking stone "liyika", not to sit on the mortar "shiwili" and to always respect their parents. Boys who don't undergo such inductions always turn out to be a disgrace to society, they say! 

Thursday 

If offered a meal by a man which rarely happens, you should not thank him after eating. The appreciation is always reserved for the mother of the house. Whether she is the one who cooked or your elder sister, after eating it is the mother to be appreciated. Even by the elder sister who could have cooked. "Mayi watekhele" or in  short "watekhele" is expected from all including father. We adore the woman who works hard to bring the food to the table! 

Friday 

Now is the time when people start selling off their animals and other valuables in preparation for Christmas. By now the families have prepared the animals to be slaughtered. They normally pool money monthly for this purpose. Everyone eats meat for Christmas. Some families prepare food from a central point on a rotational basis. Now that there is friction with the two families of Mwalye and Wanda, we don't know which family will attend and which one will boycot but it is in such times that families would come together to settle disputes at that round pot over a beer (malwa) party! 

Saturday 

There are generally 3 tough times for anyone who has been circumcised; when umushebi cuts a vein "kumusiya", the minutes after circumcision, "tsisaalila", and the third day when "umushebi - the local circumcision surgeon" comes to initiate you officially into manhood with the great words of wisdom. We call it "shabalye". On that day, removing the bandage from the wound can take 6 hours and whichever food they bring will always remain tasteless. But it is just a great moment when you command what to eat at anytime. 

Sunday 

You will always find a recently circumcised boy/man, who will call "umufulu" moving around in his sister's skirt or lesu. Those without sisters borrow their mother's and there is nothing wrong with that. In Bukyisu where imbalu is held in high regard and celebrated, umufulu is that boy who is nursing the circumcision wound, which honour lasts for at least a month and half. On a day like this, some years ago, we were wondering why Wanapwaka was taking longer to heal. Some woman suggested that it can be because of his big "member"? 

But till then, we shall keep you posted

X-FILES FROM THE VILLAGE - THE FERTILITY ROCK

Monday

There is a big rock in our area called "fertility rock". It is said that for people who are trying to find a baby, when they perform the required rituals, they are then taken to make love on that rock in broad daylight. Ritual has it that it works. 

That rock belongs to Wanda's family!

But now, Wanda Umuwalasi has converted to another
religion. Upto now smoke can be seen coming from the shrine that was burnt by the "church" that visited Wanda and converted him to their religion. Since then, the village has been experiencing strange things. The dogs have been wailing just like the way they do when they see a ghost. Last night, more than 3 owls were hooting all night. This is a sign of a looming disaster. Owls are announcers of bad news and this cannot be taken for granted. We therefore organized ourselves to chase the owls away by throwing burning pieces of wood toward them. Surprisingly, the owls would stop for few minutes and resume their haunting hoots. We tried until we gave up. 

Tuesday

Everyone concedes that Wanda has brought shame to his household and his clan at large. From when he allowed the church-people to burn down the home of the ancestors he has never come out of his house despite summons to the clan meeting. Today the last call was made to him or else the meeting will go on in his absence. Being head of the clan, Wanda is supposed to be the pillar and the person to hold the family together and carry the mantle to his elder son. 

He is the custodian of the sacred heritage of the family. Right now we can't know whether all these items were destroyed or not. Who else does not know the three-mouths pot that had been passed on to him from Nyeletsi to Washirekho, Wanda’s grandfather. 

Now we hear that the pot was broken.

Wednesday

Umukatsa, also called "village radio" for her perpetual gossip excitedly told us that the man who led the burning of the shrine has been struck by the ancestors "basambwa" and since he was rescued from the mob he has never been able to walk without support. He is said to be bedridden, "ali khushisyelo" as we call it. Shisyelo is derived from animal skin. Back then when there were no modern bedding, people who were struck by long term illnesses would be put on lisyelo as a more comfortable bedding. So the "brother" as commonly known has been condemned by the ancestors. 

The meeting happened and it resolved that the clan should elect another leader and Mwayafu was selected. The only problem is that he is not from the lineage of Soita. But everyone thinks that he is a better leader.

Thursday

Rituals were performed to have Mwayafu accepted as the clan leader and the first task given to him was to raise another shrine for the ancestors. Putting up a shrine is not as simple as building a normal house. "Bafumu" or sorcerers were called this time from Bunyole to oversee the whole process.

Friday

In performing rituals around the resting place or graveyard of the ancestors a huge snake sprung from one of the graves and bit Mukhwana, the twin brother to the late Wamono who died at Bumashebe on the way to Budwale. The traditional doctors were in handy to give first aid. A cloth was tied just below the knee to prevent poison from reaching the heart. They then cut "tsisalu" around the bite. The leg was swelling so fast but we were assured that it is nothing big

Saturday 

Mukhwana is recovering well but what is worrying is the meaning of the whole saga. A snake is a representation of both evil and custodial justice in our society and when  it bites a person, such is treated with a big measure of superstition. The construction of the shrine was halted, the people wanted Mwayafu as clan leader but the ancestors have rejected him.

Elkanah called his children and explained;

"A leader shall naturally emerge from and lead us against the perils that have befallen us. A leader of Bakyisu is never selected in a meeting or by ballot. A leader just emerges and he does not proclaim himself; he just connects with his people. But he must be from amongst us, one who is willing to lead, command respect and valor, He definitely cannot be Mwayafu who has even failed to tame his younger wife" 

Sunday 

What started as bitterness against Wanda has turned to a worry. People have started getting worried of what may become of Wanda now that Mwayafu has been rejected by the ancestors. The man who burnt the shrines is still down. 

Till then, we shall keep you posted!

X-FILES FROM THE VILLAGE - OUR ROOTS

Monday

When a person eats a lot of Bufukke and gets a bloated stomach, they will feel uncomfortable and start belching (ukhupa imbisha). Such persons are advised to sleep on a cold floor. Remember that there are two types of belching: one is out of satisfaction, and we call it khubetsakala, while imbisha is when the wind emitted through the mouth is actually smelly and is caused not by satisfaction but by overeating. Therefore, when one overeats, they are made to lie on the floor on their stomach for a few minutes, and after that, they will be fine, at least the discomfort goes. I do not know the link between the two, but we have seen it work on many occasions.

Bufukke is a mix of cassava, potatoes, and beans. The preparation starts with boiling the beans, which are prepared separately. The potatoes and cassava are steamed together until they are soft enough. At this point, the beans are added, and together they are mashed to form a smooth mold that is served with water or black tea. When eating Bufukke, it is always difficult for one to know that they have eaten a little too much until you drink water.

It was at this stage that Seperia started having difficulty breathing; he tried to call his wife but could not muster enough energy to call out his elder wife, whom we commonly refer to as Umukatsa. She was outside, in the kitchen.

From the kitchen, as if noticing that there was something wrong:

“Seperia,” Umukatsa called.

No response.

Tuesday

Seperia tried to respond, but could not. His belly was so full that there was no gap to allow him say a word. He thought that his stomach was going to burst, like how Wanesilikhe’s stomach burst after swallowing Selah. Sometimes, the tales of the Wanesilikhe when being recited to kids over and over and again would go to his head that he would come to think that it is true Wanesilikhe ever existed and used to occupy the hills of Bumanye in Bumasikye, or maybe those big caves of Wanale.

“O Seperia,” Umukatsa called again, which woke Seperia from the wild fantasies.

This time, it occurred to him that he could actually communicate with his wife the same way he talks to his cows in the wilderness. Still failing to mutter a reply, Seperia responded with a whistling.

“Ingwongele Bufukke (Should I add you Bufukke)?” she asked.

Again, Seperia responded with whistling.

“Namwe inguyile ikyewa? (Or I take you to the bush?)” (for that is how people call the latrine).

Seperia whistled back in the affirmative.

Wednesday

Umukatsa rushed to the sitting room where she had left her husband and assisted him to his feet. She slowly led him to the latrine, where Seperia spent some time before emerging with the limp of a person carrying a very huge load in his belly. He belched, looked at his wife, and smiled sheepishly. Communication born of the decades spent together. 

His wife understood him, and he knew it. How else could she have noticed that he needed help?

Together, they walked back to the house, and Umukatsa pushed their sleeping mat away to make room for Seperia to lie down to treat his bloated stomach. They made sure that Seperia was not seen in this condition before the grandkids returned from school.

Thursday

Seperia’s condition had normalized a little bit by supper time, and since he did not join his fellow men at the drinking point, Seperia chose to tell the children some stories.

“What do you want me to tell you about today?”

Before they could answer, he followed with another. As if he had already made up his mind on what story to tell.

Friday

“Do you know that all these Bakhamunyu, Banambutye, Ba’alasi, Bawabuyi, and other clans of Bakyisu are closely related by blood, born of a man who came from Ethiopia and settled around Masaba?”

“Long, long time ago, our grandfather, Mutinyo came wandering from Ethiopia and settled among a people called Barwa, who were at the time occupying the land around Masaba. Some people say that these people later changed from Barwa to Batwa, but it was among the Barwa that Mutinyo admired a girl whom he later married. That woman came to be known as Nabarwa, and it was she who made Mutinyo get circumcised, for among the Barwa, a man could not marry unless he is circumcised. That is where the custom of circumcision hails from among the Bakyisu. It was introduced by our mother, Nabarwa as a precondition for Mutinyo to win her over” 

Seperia was telling the story with clarity of a person who understood not only the geography of the region but also the politics and economics. The night time story would be ocassionally interupted by Umukatsa who would walk in to ask for something from her husband or one of the grandkids.

"Did Mutinyo have any brothers or sisters who are still there in that place you said he came from" one of the kids asked.

“Little is known of Mutinyo’s life in Ethiopia and what exactly caused his migration to settle around Masaba, but in those days, people used to wander and establish themselves away from their homeland. Even when he settled around Mt Masaba, Mutinyo had made friendship with a man called Watuwa, who was the leader of Babetsye, who had settled around present day Nyondo where the Catholics set their Mission.”

“Mutinyo and Nabarwa had many children, but most of them were killed by his in-laws. In the end, Mutinyo was left with only two sons (Nyeletsi and Washirekho) and a daughter, Namaulula. To save his lineage, Mutinyo decided to send his living three children to live with Watuwa among the Babetsye. Watuwa accepted to adopt Mutinyo’s children and integrated them with the people of Bubetsye.”

“The children of Mutinyo, when they grew up and married among the people of Bubetsye, would give birth to Bawabuyi and Banambutye from where most clans hail. Nyeletsi, who was the firstborn, gave birth to Wabuyi, Mutambo, and Lusambu in that order. These three split to become three clans. Washirekho, the second-born of Mutinyo, also gave birth to another branch of Banambutye called Bashibalayi, while Mutambo, Nyeletsi's second son is the father of the Banambutye of the Nyeletsi branch.” The kids were listening attentively as Seperia spewed the knowledge. Such is how history has been passed to generations.

Saturday

He continued “So the birthplace of most of our clans is Nyondo. When you go to places like Nabiiri, Nabumali, Khatwelatwela, you will find Bakatsa, Bakhamunyu, Bamasikye, Bawabuyi, Banambutye, and many other clans.”

“Of the three children of Nyeletsi, Mutambo settled in Manana near Watakhuna, Wabuyi settled in the plains of Busiu, and Lusambu continued farther west in present-day Bulusambu.”

Sunday

By now, Seperia’s words had become largely incoherent, some kids had started dozing and the attentive ones could not make sense of what he was saying. Slowly, his hands fell to his sides, and his chin dropped toward his chest. 

Shortly, Seperia started snoring loudly. One of the kids ran to their grandma to tell her that their grandfather had fallen asleep.

Umukatsa walked to where her husband had slumped in slumber, sent away the grandchildren, and lovingly led her husband to bed.

Till then, we shall keep you posted!

X-FILES FROM THE VILLAGE - DAYS OF UNCERTAINITY

Monday

“Ponyokho was the firstborn of Mushikoma and his wife, Wefura. Mushikoma himself was a son of Mutambo. Life was not kind to himMushikoma having been denied his mother’s care at an early age. He had to grow up faster to face what lay ahead of him. His short body stature was said to be a reflection of the weight of responsibility, having been left to fend for his siblings, Khabungala and Shangabo, after their mother was poisoned by their stepmother, Nasya. Nasya was the first wife of Mutambo. He met her at a music fete known as inemba. She is said to have hailed from Kenya.”

“For those unfamiliar with our history, the Banambutye clan was born of intermarriage between Nabarwa and Mutinyo. Mutinyo who had wandered from Ethiopia before settling in Masaaba, met Nabarwa, who later became his wife.” Elkanah was telling us the story of Bunambutye clan and how it came to be.

The young men gathered around Elkanah, eager to hear about their roots. But Elkanah, old and restless, could not hold his conversation to one topic. His mind wandered, and the tale shifted.

Tuesday

His eldest grandson tried to steady him: “Kukah (grandpa), you once said that history dies when it is not told. If you do not tell us where we come from, how shall we know where we are going? Tell us the story before your days of reckoning arrive. Our history is our culture, our culture is identity, our identity is our livelihood, it is who we are!”

Lately, Elkanah has got into a habit of telling many stories, but none, did he tell to completion. His mind kept drifting from one story to another. But those who were of his age whispered that misfortune had followed him, ever since the accusations that he had killed his own brother, Wotsomu was resurrected at Shangabo's burial.

Wednesday

It is said that during the reign of Idi Amin, Elkanah, Wotsomu, and Wabukala were not just blood brothers but also trading partners. Their smuggling business thrived after the departure of Indians whose expulsion had led to a shortage of basic supplies. Unlike others like Mabonga who was gifted the shop of Nanya, the Busiu-based Indian businessman who left the country, the 3 brothers were not so lucky. They decided to venture into smuggling coffee and cotton to Kenya while returning with salt, soap and sugar.

At 3pm every Monday, the group would gather at Musese, ready to head toward Kenya. Namunyo and Biraha, the caravan leaders of Greater Busiu, who were always armed with arrows and machete were no smugglers. Their role was to lead, watch out for soldiers, and guide the smugglers across the border. Once across, the smugglers would disperse into small groups mostly composed of family members - now like Ponyokho's family.

That day, the brothers set off in high spirits. At Lukhonge, also called Mutsukhi or place of many behives, they picked up Wafumbo before joining the larger group at Nambwa. Each man carried a sack of coffee or cotton, hoping to evade Amin’s soldiers, sell their goods, and return with soap, salt, and sugar. Those were hard times, they say. Times of scarcity. And at the same time, smuggling was a treasonous crime that could lead to instant execution. But the people were moved by the need of the time and others by the appetite for profit. To Kenya they went knowing that when they return, their wives will welcome them back with ululations and pride of warrior's mistress. A warrior who has conquered all the treachery to bring home what everyone was yearning for - salt, sugar and soap.

Thursday

Their first stop was Nangirima, where they rested for close to fifteen minutes. On that day, Wesuta’s cows had already occupied the upper part of the river and therefore had stirred the water and if not for the situation, no one would drink such water. Biraha reminded them that the next rest would be at Nanderema, near the border. Therefore whoever does not drink at Nangirima will have to soldier on till they reach a water stream called Nanderema.

In order for them to reach the border at dusk and avoid Amin soldiers, they wasted no time as they drank, dunked in, and cooled themselves from the scorching July heat. But here came Elkanah’s undoing. Swimming beside Wotsomu, he eased himself in the river. The mold drifted toward his brother, and Wotsomu cried out to the leaders. Elkanah was reprimanded for his actions and punishment accorded to him by Namunyo, one of the caravan leaders. It is said that this act of Wotsomu unsettled his brother and you could sense that he felt not only betrayed but humiliated, a feeling he carried all the way to the Kenya and border. Even pleas from Wabukala, their other brother could not bring his spirits back. Biraha thought it a bad omen for one of them to respond in such a manner to a punishment well deserved.

Friday

At Nanderema, Elkanah withdrew from the group. He did not drink of the water, he shunned conversation. Silent, but with his sack of coffee beans on the head, they walked on.

The caravan sluggishly pressed forward, passing Kwapa which welcomes them into the alien land of Bamia. Bamia is a reference made of people who are not of Bantu ethnicity, especially the nilotics and nilo hamites. 

At Lwakhakha, the leaders instructed everyone to stay off the main path as they scouted for soldiers. Finding none, the traders were guided and they skillfully swam across. For the 3 brothers who had grown up swimming in Manafwa, swimming across Lwakhaha was never a problem. But there was also Wafumbo who had to be crossed. The only reason they were nice to him was because of his mastery of Swahili language, he was the most eloquent of them.

While crossing Lwakhakha, Ugandan smugglers could dip their coffee sacks in the river, so that the wet beans would weigh more at sale to the traders in Kenya.

Saturday

Time check, 10pm and the  smugglers have descended on Kolait Market in Kenyatta’s kingdom, waiting for the next day to make their sales. Traders from Busiu normally sold their produce at Kolait Market, while the ambitious ones from Sibanga proceeded to Malakisi where they would sell at better prices.

Unlike when they are going, the return home would be in smaller family groups. But to everyone's surprise, Wotsomu did not return with his brothers, Wabukala and Elkanah. But Biraha swore upon his tongue that Wotsomu had crossed Lwakhakha to Kenya with the rest of the group. "Wele angala lulimi", he swore, his hand raised, the index finger pointing to the sky. Yet from that day, Wotsomu was never to be seen again. Suspicion fell heavily on Elkanah because he was the last person to be crossed by Wotsomu before disappearance. 

Sunday

Despite all this, among Bakyisu, the dead do not rest when they die mysteriously. They always visit the living in form dreams, and revelation to tell what took them and where they are so that their spirit which is the most important can brought back home to the clan.

A month after Wotsomu’s disappearance, he appeared to his elder daughter. She swore that her father had been killed and his spirit is lingering around Lwakhakha border. In her vision, a stone was tied to his body before the body was cast into the river. As to who did it, she could not tell. It will later be told how she led the family to the very spot where she claims her father's body was dumped and customs were made to evoke the spirit and carry it back home.

But in all this frenzy of suspicion and accusations, Wanda tried to dismiss the tale, claiming he had seen Wotsomu working on a farm in Kitale. But no one believed Wanda. After all, his tongue was known to respond faster than his brain which has earned him the nickname of ryeha. 

And so it is said, that the shadow of Wotsomu’s death remained, heavy upon Elkanah.

Till then, we shall keep you posted!

X-FILES FROM THE VILLAGE - OUR MYTHS

Monday

“Nangakambilla akwa khumuwanda kwe tsofu” is a lifelong adage called lusiimo among Baakyisu people, also known as Bagisu. It stands for, "one who does not heed advice learns the hard way." Well, this and many other provers form the wisdom that has transcended ages across generations. There are simple ones like Kamakyesi kamatiini bulwaaye - lack of knowledge is sickness, Umukaamani akama mumatsukhu - a greedy person at a slaughter house ends up being given lungs, Indekhelo’mali inamukobosa - hunger will always drive a child back home. But there are also those proverbs that are hard to crack, like Kameelu kappa khububambi - What it means, Abuneri knows and has promised to interpret it for us one day.

Tuesday

And just like all other African natives, we have our myths; superstitions are rife and deeply held beliefs. Some of these beliefs bear testimony, and we have seen them manifest. For example, when a grasshopper lands on you, it is a signal that you’re going to receive visitors and this is true. Abuneri says that it was the way nature communicated with people back in the days when there were no phones. So when we asked why some of these things do not work anymore, he told us: “Why should nature duplicate roles that can now be played by mobile phones and letters? Back in the days, we had no such inventions, and nature knew that we needed to communicate, so it came in handy. Having established other means, nature has to retract. This is not a myth, it is a reality. I, for one, being that I do not have a phone, when a grasshopper lands on my shirt, I do not wait, I immediately start preparing for the visitor.”

Wednesday

By coincidence, before he could not even complete the sentence, a grasshopper called Nambarara flew toward Abuneri but did not land on him; instead, it landed on the handle of the chair he was sitting. Abuneri immediately proclaimed that he would be getting visitors today and summoned his grandson, Wokape to find where their mother's cock is and make sure he keeps it under lock. At the point when Wokape was chasing the cock, Maayi Umukatsa, who is Abuneri's first wife returned from the well carrying a jerrycan of water. Even at her advanced age, Umukatsa can comfortably balance a 20‑liter jerrycan of water on her head while casually carrying kyimisyebebe (pumpkin leaves). Since our childhood, we have always known her as Umukatsa, and none amongst us knows her real name.

Thursday

It is normal for women to be called by their clan name, and no mention is made of their real names. So, in our village, we have Umukatsa, Umusoba, Umuyobo, Umuddadiri, Umuganda, Umunambutye, and so on. There is a story of one woman we call Mayi'Umuganda because she had come to the village speaking only Luganda. Later, when her people came to collect the dowry, we were surprised that none of her relatives could speak Luganda. It was then that we learnt that she was actually an Ateso and not a Muganda. But Umuganda took hold and we have never changed.

Friday

When Umukatsa found Wokape chasing the cock around, she wanted to know the reason. "Kukah told me," he threw the words, running past her trying to reach the chicken which was by now losing momentum and almost giving up. Umukatsa hurriedly put the jerrycan and the vegetables down, ready to calmly confront her husband.

"Papa webasiya" is a respectful manner in which women address their husbands, and therefore she needed an explanation. With a bit of incoherence, Abuneri could not satisfactorily prove to his wife that they needed to prepare for unknown visitors just because a grasshopper had landed on a chair he was seated on. 

"Nature works in such a way that it is only and only when the grasshopper lands on your shirt/blouse or anywhere above your waist that it means you’re going to receive visitors. And since when did we start slaughtering chicken before the visitors have reached the homestead? What if it is a visitor bringing bad news, like to announce a death?" Umukatsa r
eminded her husband.

"My wife, the instincts tell me that we are getting visitors, and it may even be Mukhwasi, your younger brother," Abuneri tried to convince Umukatsa, who did not seem ready to be convinced.

"What if he is conveying bad news?"

"But you know very well, since time immemorial, that if anyone had died back at your home, the owl would have visited us in the night for it’s the owl that announces a death in our area. So, take heart. Let Wokape get the cock and keep it indoors so that when the visitors come, we shall not have to bother the boy."

Saturday

Among the Bakyisu, when an owl hoots around your house at night, it is an announcement that someone in the household or related to the household has died. It is one way nature communicates with the people. There is another bird called Wududu, the angel of death, and when it lands on your house, a person in the household dies.

Sunday

That is how nature communicates with us!

X-FILES FROM THE VILLAGE - THE JUDGEMENT DAY?

A dark cloud hangs over the village as we gather in response to the summons for the meeting. One of its kind. It is not everyday that we have so many people from different clans gather in this place; the gathering shows the importance of the matter. 

The sombre mood is worsened by the incidents of the last 2 months where there is a notable disregard for the laws of the land. Mutenyo from Bawabuyi circumcised all his children in the hospital, worst of all, he circumcised them in the “year of girls”. According to traditional, circumcision among Bakyiisu is supposed to be conducted in even years and the odd years are always referred to as the year of the girls. Mutenyo, in defiance of tradition decided to circumcise all his 4 boys in the year of girls. He took them to hospital in what we refer to as Lubaawo.

Tuesday

Secondly, once a lucrative custom, now Bumakoki is being disregarded. Bumakoki is a bond created when boys are circumcised in the same year. Those who share the year of circumcision refer to each other as Makoki.

“We don’t know what will become of our children” Walyaula rested his chin on his isoonyi as he used his toes to scribble into the ground. “Even the respect for the elders seems to be waning. We truly don’t know what will become of their future.”

Wednesday

“How can I expect anything good of Mutenyo’s children after what happened? I am told that even one of them joined their father to humiliate Mungasa who had gone to demand Bumakoki.”

When a boy is circumcised, his fathers circumcision mates - Bamakoki are entitled entitled to a token. A Makoki will camp in the home and must not talk to anyone until he is handed his token which may be in form of chicken or a goat. It is after the token is handed over that Makoki can then talk to the members of the homestead. It is said that when Makoki is not given a befitting token, he has the power to cast a spell on the boy’s incision wound. He can even cast a spell on the boy’s manhood. But in a bizaare event was Khaukha who cast a spell on Mwelu and the foreskin returned to the penis.

Mwelu had to undergo circumcision twice.

That is how powerful Makoki is!

Thursday

The meeting began as if it had not begun. Everyone just realized that Mungasa was speaking and we had to give him our attention.

“………….become people who deny their roots, we are at risk of losing our identity. When we lose our identity, we risk losing direction and when we lose direction, what shall follow?” He rhetorically asked. As if to answer himself, “We shall lose ourselves. We appreciate that we belong to different religions but no religion should tell you to discard your identity. To discredit your tribe and abandon the ways of your people is the same as abandoning self”

As he spoke, you would feel a deep expression of genuine concern in his voice and the body language. 

When Mungasa paused to breathe, you could see that somehow, the concern has been transmitted like electricity to the hearts of all other elders around. Even us, the children dared not talk.

Generally, that is how our gatherings begin before erupting into chaos that precedes judgement.

Friday

“How can Mutenyo, the heir of Khatoko, who was handed the spirits of Bawabuyi abandon the ways of his ancestors and the clan not bring him to order?” Mungasa’s deep voice reverberated as he turned around to scan his audience.

You would think that a person speaking was of big stature. But on the contrary, Mungasa is a short man of small build. He walks with a limp and he tells us that he sustained it while running away from Amin people who came searching for men who had participated in a football game organised by Maumbe Mukhwana who was actively recruiting rebels for FRONASA.

Back to the meeting, audience was already swayed, the people were convinced that something is wrong. But what would they do about it? Gone are days! We would now have matched to Mutenyo's home and brought it to order, but we cannot do that anymore. The last time we tried to confiscate Mukyelo's land and transfer his inheritance, we all recall what happened

Mungasa continued, “As I sit, I challenge this gathering to come up with a solution to this problem. If we don’t, we shall be judged as a generation that destroyed the tribe. isse nababoleye”, he chimed as he took his seat besides Walyaula.

Surprisingly, even after Mungasa’s passionate appeal, there was no other comment on Mutenyo’s issues because we have gathered for some other case which seems to be more important than Mungasa being denied Bumakoki by Mutenyo, moreover during the "girl’s year". From the loud silent “response” to Mungasa’s concern, you could feel that his was regarded as a complaint about not being given a token by Mutenyo and not a general concern for the tribe. 

Saturday

All the attention now turned to Sakwa’s issue. It started with Mzei Wepukhulu telling us the lineage of Banambutye and how they directly descended from Wabuyi. Today, Sakwa is not accused of sleeping with an under age Agnes. Sakwa is accused of using Agnes to shed off his boyhood in a ritual known as khukhala kumulindi and worst of all, he did it at a funeral which under normal circumstances would be referred to us khusaala umuffu (replacing the dead).

Before the hearing started, we looked forward to an excruciatingly protracted case, one which would lead to counter-accusations, arguments and maybe permanent enmity between the two families or clans. Everyone was surprised when Sakwa's family acknowledged what had happened, apologised and asked that they be allowed to marry Agnes. It was agreeable. But as a precaution, it was decided that two goats should be slaughtered to appease the ancestors (khuwossa bakuka). 

Sunday

“As usual, a goat has to pay for a man's wrongs” a comment that got us laughing.

Till then, we shall keep you posted!

X-FILES FROM THE VILLAGE - A FUNERAL, ITS RITES, AND THE DRAMA

Monday

It has been a while since we witnessed an inter-clan cultural meeting to decide a case between two clans, especially such a complicated matter that is deeply engraved in our customs as Bakyisu. For the record, people from the south are Bakyisu or Bakisu if one hails from Bududa and Manafa. Our siblings from the north are Bagisu. But even among them, there are some Bakyisu who migrated from the south and settled in present-day Bunambutye of Bulambuli. Therefore, when a complicated matter like the prevailing one arises, all Banambutye are summoned, including Wepukhulu from Bulambuli. Surprisingly, the majority of Bafukhula in this meeting are those from Bududa. Therefore, Walyaula, who is the area head, has to cede his seat to Mukhama in this particular case.

Tuesday

So what is the matter?

Wednesday

You remember the burial of Nalyaka where Wekoye stopped the rain? Well, it is our custom that when a person dies and is buried, the whole village condoles with the family for at least three more days after burial. From the moment a villager dies, or is said to have died, the whole village suspends digging until the rites are performed. After burial, we count three days and if the deceased is head of the family,  the widow and/or the children have their heads shaved clean, a goat is slaughtered, and among the customs, there is one important one called “khuwamba kyimiini,” which literally means taking to the hoe because kumwiini is the wooden hoe handle whose plural becomes kimiini. Therefore, until the third day and the kimiini feast is celebrated, the entire village hangs around the family, condoling with them and giving all the necessary support. The entire village literally takes over the affairs of the bereaved family until the kimiini feast. Everyone brings with them the food that feeds the village while they stay the three days.

Thursday

At night, we spend much of our time by the bonfire, but some wise people prepare a sleeping place out of banana leaves (kamasatsa). You can easily prepare and arrange your sleeping place during the day so that when nighttime comes, you slowly sneak in. 

Mabonga prepared his very well during the day. 

In the wake of the night, when he wanted to sleep, staggered to his spot only to find that it has been invaded and there were two people inside - a girl and man. He called out to them to vacate his place so that he could sleep. The couple inside just laughed and told him off. “I am giving you five minutes. Let me go and have one more sip of Nabalayo’s ingurre.” Ingurre is how some people call that local vodka. It is brewed and supplied by Nabalayo. Sometimes we refer to her by a Luganda name, Bituli biingi—we don’t know what it means, but that is it. 

“Don’t say I didn’t warn you,” Mabonga warned as he staggered away.

Friday

A few hours later, what started as a small fire blossomed into a flame that engulfed many surrounding banana-leaf-made structures that had been erected to house the people. And fire from banana leaves can spread so fast, but luckily the leaves cannot sustain a fire for long. Therefore, the injuries were minor save for Sakwa whose clothes were burnt. The other inconvenience was that many people were smoked out of their hiding places where they had sought refuge from the night’s chill. The fire started from the shelter which was being claimed by Mabonga, and when the it started, Sakwa and Agnes jumped out naked. They were saved the shame by the cover of darkness but still, that bright light from the burning banana leaves was enough to treat us to the spectacle. What we saw, we live to tell!

Saturday

“My daughter is too young to be sleeping around with that man,” Agnes’ father fumed after learning of what had transpired. “But who set the shelters on fire, if not Mabonga, your own son who is Agnes’ elder brother? After doing it, he vanished.” Talk is that Mabonga set the shelter on fire to punish the couple that had taken over his sleeping place not knowing that the fire could easily spread to other shelters. But some people could not believe that Mabonga, in his drunken state, the last time he was seen could pull off such an act, let alone be able to vanish. 

“Where is he then? He is the only person we cannot account for. So he is guilty of this, and his family must be held accountable,” Wakauna vibrated. “Let us go slow on this. Let everyone find where to sleep, and then in the morning, we shall know where to start. Meanwhile, Sakwa should be taken to the RC’s place for the act for protection until after this function when we shall be ready to handle this matter.” When Mzei Walyaula speaks, no one can cross his word. Therefore, we obliged.

Sunday

However. as the women went back to the house (where most were sleeping) to resume their night sleep, one of them realized that on the mat where the late Nalyaka had been placed before burial, there was someone sleeping and snoring loudly, covered in the same sheets the deceased had been laid on. Outrightly, knowing that she had come face to face with a ghost, the woman fainted. That was before the men were summoned to check only to realize that Mabonga, who was being accused of setting other people’s shelter on fire, had comfortably chosen to sleep in the most unexpected place.

As we sit here waiting for the Banambutye elders to arrive for the case to be heard, it is not Mabonga but rather Sakwa who is being accused of sleeping with Mabonga’s unmarried sister and yet this was his first act since circumcision. 

“How can you do that to someone’s daughter when you know that custom forbids you from marrying her?”

In our culture, the first act of sex after circumcision is a ritual by itself. The boy cannot perform it with a virgin girl; the boy cannot marry the girl with whom he does it and after the act, the girl is said to suddenly becomes pale, and no jelly can make her attractive anymore; that is why it is advisable to look out for an adult woman -
it is called khukhala kumulindi.

Till then, we shall keep you posted!

X-FILES FROM THE VILLAGE - MYTHS OF RAINMAKERS

Monday

Throughout the year, the rains have been erratic and rather unpredictable. Even Walyaula, who could predict the season with precision, has made mistakes on several occasions. The village seems to be losing confidence, and lately, we have stopped consulting him.

It has been known for ages that our rain comes from the southern side. Once we see the clouds forming from Namwenula side towards our direction, we are sure that it is going to rain. Many times, we spread millet out on the big rock for drying as we head to school, with confidence that if we see the cloud from that side, we must rush and help with putting back the millet into the storage (shirara). But if the cloud comes from Namwalye, that is not our rain, and we shall never bother.

 

Tuesday

Just like all the surrounding villages, ours also has rain stoppers. We call them Bachimba, and their title borders on a witch. Indeed, when referring to their act, it is khubirisa ifula, which translates as deflecting rain. When we face a prolonged drought, it is always suspected that someone is stopping the rain, and in some cases, it takes a traditional rite and a few beatings to salvage the situation. It is not uncommon for that custom to precede heavy rains. But these days, things seem to be changing. Who does not remember the shame our elders faced when they beat up Waswaka up to three times, and it never rained?

Wednesday

Surprisingly, each one of us has ever been trained on how to deflect rain to another area, and on most occasions, we have done it as a collective effort to stop rain from disrupting a function like a burial or wedding. But all this is done in good faith. How else would Father Kuroonya have stopped Masaba's wedding to allow his father to perform the tradition that stops the rain that was threatening to disrupt his son's holy church wedding ceremony?

However, some people like Khaukha are known to deflect rain at the time when we need it most. It is why he is called a witch. So, everyone is wondering why Khaukha, who is always accused of being umuchimba, cannot stop the current rain that has become a menace at this moment.

 

Thursday

Everyone is worried that the burial shall be disrupted by rain. Under such circumstances, we normally ask the head of the family or the clan to perform the rituals to hold back the rain, at least until the burial is done. In stopping or holding back the rain, the most common tools to use are the hoe, ash, a mortar and pestle (shiwili ni kumutsungilo). And in circumstances like where someone has died, you throw their (the deceased's) cloth onto the roof of their house, and the rain shall be blocked until the funeral rites are done. But of recent, nature has become stubborn and less obedient. We don't know if it will heed our commands.

As the priest stands up to preach, Wekoye is summoned to urgently rush behind their father's likubili. He is being summoned for the very important purpose, being that he is his father's heir. Nasila brings Late Nalyaka's floral dress and hands it to their brother, Wekoye.

Friday

Meanwhile, the clouds hovering over our heads, playfully chasing each other, signal the approach of the mother of rains that has characterised this period. Even the priest's voice does not sound firm as he says away his godly words, to which no one is paying attention, save for some of his choir members. All people's hopes are now hideously in Wekoye's next course of action, which will save the funeral from disruption by the rain, and especially this important session of the scripture.

"This rain cannot be stopped, not even by the god the priest is talking about," says Khaukha the witch. Those who hear look at him with envious eyes, knowing how his skill can come in handy. But Paulina, who is known for speaking without mincing words, loudly asks why Khaukha cannot put to good his witchery, causing a frenzy of laughter. The priest is able to suppress his laughter with "Alleluia," which goes unnoticed.

Meanwhile, Wekoye, when done with the hoe, sprinkles ash around it. All eyes are on him; the mood is tense. Surprisingly, people have hope and faith in the rituals he is performing, including the religious chaps. "Isn't it said that God helps those who help themselves?" the choir leader whispers to her neighbor.

Saturday

They then bring him a mortar and its pestle.

Sunday

As soon as Wekoye throws Nalyaka's dress to the roof, the first drops of rain come and hit harder. Everyone starts scampering for any shelter they can locate, under the trees, banana plants while the priest and his team press farther into the house shed. The problem is that a body, once brought out, cannot be taken back into the house. That is a taboo. But there is a simple shelter to protect it from direct rain. The priest looks farther for a better place under the roof, lest the holy book and the holy clothes get rained on.

To everyone's surprise, however, the rain does not last a minute. A rushing wind comes momentarily, and with it, the rain stops. But we realise that it has just been pushed to the neighbouring village.

The priest asks us to clap in appreciation for this deliverance, to which we oblige. Only that we cannot tell which god it is that we are clapping for!

X-FILES FROM THE VILLAGE - BY THE RIVERSIDE

Monday

There are many types of snakes known to inhabit our village, but the common ones are Nalunyaasi, Mamba Leo, and Mukoboyaka. Nalunyaasi is the green mamba; it is venomous and stealthy, so much so that, in most cases, you will not see it until you’ve already reached it. Mamba Leo, to us the young ones, is any big poisonous snake, while Mukoboyaka, which are rare, are pythons said to have the capacity to swallow whole animals or even people. They are rumored to be in Marekerero, those sides of Lwaboba in Muyekhe, as well as along the shores of River Manafwa.

But about the ability to swallow a person—my brain has never come to terms with it. Because the animal said to swallow people is Wanesilikhe, the one that swallowed Selah, according to Grandma’s story. So, what is the link between that monster and a snake?

But anyway, snakes are sacred. And much as the known venomous ones are supposed to be killed, there are patron snakes that are revered, respected, and indeed hold a high place in the village. There is no water source that exists without a snake watching over it. From Musweema to Wenyukha to Nakunuku, all these wells are protected by a known snake which, when we encounter, we must not kill but rather let it crawl away.

Tuesday

At the moment, there are rumors of an active python roaming around the river. We’ve been cautioned against walking alone, especially along the riverbank.

They say Chetulita, the wife of Wekwanya, was killed by a python. But that story has gaps and doesn’t really make sense. The only person who was there, Kaloli, says that by the time he reached the scene, the snake had already coiled itself around the woman and was trying to swallow her. Out of panic, he grabbed a log and hit the python. The snake let go, but by then, Chetulita was no longer breathing.

But there’s another story to her death that sounds more believable. It is told in whispers. It is said that Chetulita was not killed by any python. Instead, she was bitten by a snake as she eloped with Kaloli. They had made a “bed” besides the hole that harbors the black mamba at that time of the month when the snake is said to be sick and rarely comes out of the hole. How do we know that a snake inside the anthill is sick, you may ask? We tell this when the mushrooms called Bumekele start sprouting on or around the anthill where the snake resides.

Wednesday

Bumekele are tiny mushrooms that only grow on an anthill (ishiili or shishili) that harbors a big snake which patronizes it, just like we know that snakes patronize wells and other natural water sources around the village. The moment that patron snake is killed, the water source will dry up, or the mushrooms will stop growing on that anthill.

When the mushrooms sprout upon the hill, it is a sign that the snake is sick. Therefore, the women and girls can harvest the mushrooms without threat of being bitten by the snake.

On that particular day, Chetulita could have thought the snake was sick and there she lay with her lover, Kaloli. It is said that when the snake bit her, she did not take it seriously. Some people even joke that the ecstasy of the moment was too much that by the time they realized it was a snake bite, the poison had already reached her heart and she could not be saved. How this version came up, they say Kaloli told it to his wife.

“Women can never keep a secret,” they add. But Chetulita died!

Thursday

Related to that, so many scary animals are said to live around Manafwa River. One time, Namaumba claimed to have been chased by Imbulu, a feared alligator that has a sharp tail which, we are told, it uses to chop off the legs of its prey. Nonetheless, these stories never stop us from going to the river.

Friday

Life is lived to its fullness. We grieve and celebrate together. Not that we never fight and more than a few times, suspicion arises but to the boys of our age, it is all about living. On a day like today, we wake and join the rest for communal work. After the work, we lead the cattle to the riverside for grazing; here we are always on our own. We spend the day fighting, cheering the fighting cows, and for lunch, yes, we steal people’s sugarcane and then wait for evening time to lay the girls. It is by the river that the boys start transiting into men.

Saturday

Today the older boys were helping one of their own who is going to be circumcised next year. When we asked why they were placing the termite on his boyhood, they said it is an initiation called khukhala kharandasi. I watched as the termite’s mandibles gripped a lining of skin below the sheath on his penis. He almost showed cowardice by biting his lower lip, but Watenga hit the calf of his leg while proclaiming, “kamani mwibili!”

Sunday

Daytime by the river is for the boys and maybe some adult women. The girls come in the evening to draw water and bathe and yes, to be laid. Most of the thriving marriages started from the river. The girl who went to fetch water never returned, she did not even return the jerrycan
. From the river, she just proceeded to Namwalye, and it was the boy’s uncles who came to report that they have our sister.

Till then, we shall keep you posted!

X-FILES FROM THE VILLAGE- TAKES A VILLAGE TO RAISE A CHILD

Monday

"You see this madness of acrobatics where one puts their legs on the bicycle handlebars, lift hands in the air as they slope down Nakunuku? It is what killed his brother, Wayeno," Walumbe chided as Nekemiah rode past the elderly but strongly built village defense chief. Having lived all his life along the road, he has seen countless bicycle accidents happen on this road, and most of them are caused by reckless riding by the young men. His wife knew that Walumbe is always concerned about the welfare of the young men in the area and beyond. But she teasingly shot back, "You're just jealousy of the boy because you cannot do what he is doing. Let them enjoy their age."

Tuesday

"Woman, you never saw me in my teenage. Only that in our years the bicycle was a rarity, only to be found in the homes of the chiefs and the headmasters. Therefore, we learnt to ride by stealthily accessing Chief Wananda's bicycle through his son. We would ride in turns, with each round costing you a piece (inyengo) of sugarcane. But because Wananda's son had an eye for my sister Wanyenya, I was always able to drive an extra mile due to my closeness to the crown prince of the village."

Wednesday

"But before bicycles were given to the chiefs, there was only one bicycle we could see in this area, and it was ridden by Semei Kakungulu. By then, I was still a young boy. Most people referred to it as a two-legged metallic horse. And being what he was, Semei was not ready to tell us the truth. So, every time he could visit the sub-county, we were asked to carry milk to be given to the horse. Apparently, Semei's horse used to drink milk and did not eat grass like other donkeys and horses. Therefore, he would come with a big imuuka (gourd), and everyone who went to view the horse would take with them milk as a gift. Little did we know that Semei was the horse that drank the milk, and this was just a bicycle."

Thursday

Walumbe continued:

"So, around that time when we had come of age, more bicycles were brought into the area. But, if a big person gave you the honor of pushing their bicycle, you were not allowed to ride it. One time, the headmaster of Musese gave me a bicycle to take to his house. When I went around the corner, I got tempted and started by pedaling one side before garnering the courage to lift my leg over the frame. But because I was short, I could not reach the seat. I therefore rode on the frame—kumutti. When I was approaching his house, I got off and pushed it to the house. One thing I forgot was that I had not cleaned my behind well. My contact with the frame left some stains and a small stench that gave me away. For riding the headmaster's bicycle, I got some good beating at home."

Friday

As Walumbe was still telling the tale of his experience with bicycles, Nekemiah came back pushing the bicycle with a limp. His face had bruises, and you could tell that he had just had a fall from his bicycle. Walumbe walked slowly to Nekemiah in a perceived show of empathy, saying, "Itsila ikhaboola, shiina ndi?" meaning the path does not tell what lies ahead of you. Nekemiah intimated how the bicycle hit a rock, and he came tumbling down. Slowly, Walumbe walked toward him, relieved Nekemiah of the bicycle, and asked him to follow Walumbe to his house. He calmly rested the bicycle on the mango tree, went behind his house as if to get water for the injured boy. He instead returned holding a stick behind his back, got hold of Nekemiah, and gave him 5 strokes to the buttocks.

Saturday

It takes a village to raise a child—and especially a boy, they say.

After caning him, Walumbe confiscated the bicycle and asked Nekemiah to go and call his father to pick it. That is Walumbe. The boy went home knowing that this ordeal is going to earn him more canes. What could he do?

That is when the village buddies come in.

Sunday

The bicycle was rescued. The parents were not i
nformed until Sunday when Walumbe found them at church.

X-FILES FROM THE VILLAGE - THE DAY AT SCHOOL

Monday

(ŋ)Ngooli, walya maito (ŋ)Ngooli, wawa wawa

(ŋ)Ngooli, walya maito (ŋ)Ngooli, wawa wawa

Munialo and Buteki clasp their hands behind their backs. Woniala lurches forward, climbs up, and the clasped palms of Munialo and Buteki form a platform on which he stands. He begins lunging forward, swaying up and down to imitate a crested crane (ŋooli). The boys are grouped into threes, forming the same combination: two boys support one. As the procession moves around, the girls sing:

(ŋ)Ngooli, walya maito (ŋ)Ngooli, wawa wawa

(ŋ)Ngooli, walya maito (ŋ)Ngooli, wawa wawa

It is an illustration of a Crested Crane that has been arrested for stealing people's groundnuts but the lesson that follows is that when you steal, you will always be caught and the Crane on the back is a symbol of vulnerability when the law catches up with you. Just like it did with Wamimbi Uwa Wapondo.

Tuesday

The first trio to lose is Wangamati’s group, followed by others who can no longer sustain the weight of the ŋooli (Crested Crane). They switch to another game until break time.

Break time it is, and we all race to our favorite engagement. The older boys usually carry a ball woven from polythene and rubber, while we, the younger ones, head to the selling point for bolingo and kabalagala.

Wednesday

We don’t need money to hang around the selling point—just a buddy with whom you’ve made a pact, or you hang around hoping for a sympathizer to offer a bite of sumbusa, bolingo, or kabalagala. Sometimes, just say pandye, and you’re entitled to your friend’s share of the snack. But today, Wolayo is wise; he has folded his shirt sleeve. The only way I can get a share of bolingo is by promising to share mine tomorrow. He’s not swayed. So I walk to where they’re selling sugarcane and decide to eat the tip, which is usually cut off—it’s called ruburi.

Before I can finish my ruburi, the timekeeper bangs the gong. We call it a bell, but it’s not a real bell—it’s a piece of metal which, when struck hard enough with another metal, alerts the children. On a normal day, the gong is sounded six times, but on special occasions, it also summons us for events.

Thursday

The gong that summons us is usually sounded a few minutes before classes resume. We all run to class as the prefects take their positions to catch latecomers. I miss Wandyetye’s cane by a whisker and make it to class.

After ten minutes of waiting for the teacher, who doesn’t show up, the boys organize a duel. Watiila invites Ekisofeli to a fight, and as always, Katami is the referee. The rule is simple, and it is one: no one should hit the other in the stomach. That’s the only rule. Fighting in class, where we keep quiet and watch while some keep checking to see if the teacher is coming, is a common thing here.

Friday

Wakooli is asked to keep watch and alert us when the teacher is coming. Quietly, the fight begins. Ekisofeli wrestles Watiila to the ground, then starts raining fists on his opponent. We’re all enjoying the fight in silence, and some of us are standing on the only three desks in the class to watch. Wakooli enjoys the fight and loses guard. He is just as surprised as the rest of us when the Headmaster walks in and goes straight to the fighting boys.

Saturday

Around here, fighting among children is normal—an acceptable way to earn respect among peers. Parents and teachers seem to approve of it implicitly, though never in words. When Mr. Buteki found us fighting last week, he encouraged us to continue, and only the loser was punished.

Sunday

The Headmaster had come to inform us that Wamimbi son of Wapondo, who is Watiila's father, had died after stealing Wakauna's cows—and the traditional doctor had sent a spell to catch the thief! It was unfortunate that after casting the spell, the doctor was called to a distant place and couldn’t be reached on time for the antidote to save Wamimbi Uwa Wapondo.

Justice in this part of the world is intricate. Tell me—will you blame Wakauna for Wamimbi’s death? Maybe yes. But will you hold him accountable? He was only trying to find out who stole his cows.

And as we speak, Wakauna's herd is being led back to the village. The cows had been taken to Bumia and we are told that even there, some people are reeling from the great traditional healer's medicine and if it was not for the great medicine men from Bunyole, they would be dead.

Till then, we shall keep you posted!

X-FILES FROM THE VILLAGE - DARK JUSTICE

Monday 

The sound of alarm early this morning draws the entire village to Wakauna’s homestead. Everyone gathers around his kraal— known to house dozens of cows. But now, it stands nearly empty. I can see only a few: a mulukumu, inyenda, and the dreaded white cow.

Tuesday 

In our village, there are three types of cows we disregard. They hold little resale value. They cannot be slaughtered for ceremonies, offered as dowry, or given as gifts.

“Mulukumu” is a hornless cow, feared for being possessed—the only known carnivorous cow. Some people say it is the one that devoured Wamono’s twin brother. Others insist that Wamono was born with leopard that roams the area, said to live in the shrub near the school. I’ve never seen it, but Munialo swears to having encountered it several times.

A white cow is another we don’t keep for value. It’s only used for rituals to cleanse a person or the village. But no one wants to keep it because when a white cow dies in the kraal, it’s a bad omen—often followed by a death in the homestead. We can’t forget what happened when Walyaula’s white cow died: Walyaula himself passed away, and his family fell apart. Some of his children never returned for circumcision even.

“Inyenda” is a cow with a stained coat, as if paint had been spilled across its skin. It’s unlike Friesian - Musubulaya, which bears neat black-and-white patches. Inyenda is also used for rituals and rarely do people buy it except for special purposes like treating infertility.

Wednesday

Therefore, Wakauna was robbed in the night, his kraal swept clean. To help catch the thieves, Munialo was tasked with guarding the kraal to make sure that no one enters it or picks anything before “investigations” are conducted. Meanwhile, Wakauna has gone to Busukuya to find a traditional healer - umufumu.

Thursday 

When the traditional healer arrives, he was a skinny man, not one who inspires the fear or aura that engulfs one when you stand under the big healing Murukuru tree. Immediately he asks for a hen, which he slaughters at the kraal’s entrance, mumbles a few words, enters the kraal, pulls some grass, bites into it, and walks out.

Friday 

“You will find the thief before the day ends,” he says —and walks away. Such persons in our area do not ask for pay; it is the served who is compelled to take a befitting gift to thank the gods’ messenger for the work done. If the cows are recovered, we are sure that he will be rewarded with a cow or two. But if the thief is caught and the cows not recovered, he will be appreciated with a goat. 

Saturday

Before sunset, Wamimbi uwa Wapondo comes tumbling toward the kraal. Without talking to anyone, he drops to the ground and begins mowing grass—just like a cow.

The thief has been revealed.

Sunday

Justice has to be served. The healer has to be called back to release Wamimbi uwa Wapondo from the spell. Munialo is sent to fetch him. But by twilight, neither Munialo nor the healer have shown up. Wamimbi’s condition is worsening. If they don’t act soon, he might die.

Yet no one dares to approach him.

Till then, we shall keep you posted

X-FILES FROM THE VILLAGE - MUTOBOLYA - MUURUKURU

Monday

It is a chilly morning, and we are awakened by the gash of water on our small, rugged bodies. The most common way to wake us is by pouring water on us. It matters not that the bedsheets shall be wet—we always keep them out of the house till evening. After all, Watasa wets the bed (read: mat) every night. Musuya is waking us again, but this time for a special mission. All children of the house have to slope to the banks of River Manafa to perform a ritual that will send away the Mutobolya outbreak.

Trying to wake up without opening my eyes, I realise that my cheek is heavier than it was yesterday, and there is a numbing pain that stretches from my mandibles to the ears. Oh, the scourge of Mutobolya that attacked us five days ago has now spread to all the children of the house and the neighbours.

In this part of the world, when disease strikes, there is always a fix just around the corner—it is either medicine or some ritual. And since Mutobolya cannot be treated by isuufa or kumururutsa, we have to go to the river for the ritual.

Tuesday

Along the banks of River Manafa, the gods placed a special tree called Murukuru, and it heals Mutobolya as long as the rituals are performed right. So we go, led by the older brothers who cover us—the young ones and the girls from the front and behind.

We stride through the shrubs, trekking a well-known path, we have to push aside the thorny mukwate and avoid the sticky lusongofa as we beat the dew toward the river. Munialo almost steps on a snake, and as is tradition, we all make sure that it does not cross the path before we do. “What if it has already crossed?” Wolukawu asks, and we all silence him. We should stop negative thoughts. To the river we go. We want to be the first group to reach there because we hear that it works best for the first ones.

Wednesday

As we approach the big healing tree, the elders organise us into three groups—older boys, the girls, and us, the young boys. The order shall be maintained: we are to be the last, possibly because we are young. As the older boys go, Musuya reminds us of what we should do—the recitings we have to make and how many times we have to stump the tree.

After their ritual the big boys sprint past us one by one. So it must be until they reach home, signalling that the girls are next. After them, it is our turn.

Thursday 

It is my first time beneath the magical tree. Under it, you can feel the presence of a god—or gods—so supreme I tremble. One by one, the boys recite until it is my turn.

I go to the very spot Walyaula was stumping, and I start stumping my little foot on the tree as I sing:

Mutobolya a'ambe Muurukuru, Muurukuru a'ambe Mutobolya

You have to recite it thrice, and after the third recitation, you have to turn your back to the massive tree and run so fast back home that the disease does not catch you. You're not supposed to look back, they have told us.

Friday

But no sooner have I made a turn toward the path that leads home than a big creature emerges out of the bush. Without asking, I run back toward the giant tree. Just like that, I have gone against the prescription, and therefore, my Mutobolya cannot heal.

I go back home crying, tell Grandma, and for causing this trouble, Munialo is punished. He has to wash plates the whole day, and another day will be organised for me to go back and perform the ritual.

Saturday

Apparently, Munialo had hidden behind the shrubs and emerged to prank me as soon as I had finished my ritual. There was nothing like a big animal, it was Munialo.

 

But before I can be led back to perform the ritual, Mom returns from school and takes me to the village doctor—one who has medicine of all sorts. None of us knows where he trained as a doctor, but he has been treating us, and his medicine works. Just as the other children are healing from the mumps that we call Mutobolya, I also start feeling better—by the village doctor's medicine.

Sunday

And as I stand on top of this hill facing Manafa, I wonder if that tree still stands. I wonder if I could go there if I contracted mumps again. And I wonder if the tree would heal me—just for once!