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!