I was born in Marsabit town where my dad used to work as a primary school teacher. However to this day I have no memories of that place as I fell victim of circumstances when my father had to be transferred back home to the greater Kakamega District. That sent us back to our rural home at Maseno in Emukhuya village. My early life in this hilly village is one full of memories about the good and bad times and the people who shaped me into what I am today.
When I look back in time I see a life and a people totally different from the situation now. Those were the days when every village man meant well for each other and we had such a glue that binded us in solid brotherhood making village life the in thing. I remember all town folks would make arrangements for their families to travel to their upcountry homes during school holidays. Life was very much communal and everyone in the village was either a brother/sister, father/mother, uncle/aunt, son/daughter or niece/nephew. Our close nit way of life knew nothing like cousin as they were considered brothers or sisters. Villagers would suspend all their work to come together and assist each other during functions and also when one had to do major jobs like construction of houses etc.
I appreciate all the people who did whatever they had to do to make me what I am now.
I have a lot of respect for fellow countrymen and I regard every statesman as a hero/heroine in their own right. However for those of you who happened to play apart in my life I salute you and wish you A HAPPY MASHUJAA DAY.
A lot of names cross my mind when I think of my olden days in the village that I can not mention all in this post. However I will do a few:
THE STATELY MZEE OLENDO
This old man was a true statesman who used to tell us the history of the long struggle for our independence and how he had played a part in the construction of the post colonial Nairobi. He never bothered from where to tell us his account of how he participated in the fight for our independence. Most of the time he could do it by the road side and we loved it.
During public holidays Olendo used to dress in ceremonial attires of our national colours. He never stopped envisioning a land full of plenty and in which every Kenyan would live in peace and harmony.
FUTI MOJA THE WAG
He came from a neighboring village. He was so short and thus the name Futi moja or simply Futi. This man never earned the respect of his fellow villagers and as a result he spent most of the time in our village. He made some close friends, notably Kiporo and Olambo. The trio are long dead but their memories linger on.
The trio of Futi, Kiporo and Olambo were a sight to behold, especially among the children. They were very entertaining and carried with them a box guitar, esiriri and shakers with which they could entertain crowds by the road side or in functions. Of the three, this man Futi was the binding glue as the other two could not hold together soon after his demise.
I have always remembered this man with some of the tunes he sang to us like the one below
Ndekombanga khwiche khwichumbane; (I wish that we could be able to grip each other;
Amenjele kayie khutekhe esiturungi; Githeri is ready so we can cook tea; After that
Khwakhamala makhwesabe amakhono; then we wash our hands; So as to eat ugali with
Makhulachile obusuma neinyama. meat.)
Eh Futi olindanga sii? (Eh Futi what are you waiting for? I am waiting
Nindaga indeche, indeche yichanga. for a plane which is coming. We want to fly away.)
Khulenya okhupulukha.
Eeeeh…. Khumekanenge lipwoni; (Eeeeh…. We should always share the potato;
Khuli bulala mama, omwoyo nekarata bane……. We are together mama; The heart….)
And they could sing on and on. (don't mind the translation, I am not a master like Mwalimu Bosco)
These tunes which he seemed to compose with a lot of ease became so famous that women and children could not resist the urge of singing along as the trio entertained.
That aside, it was not very clear whether Futi owned any land or whether he had any children. I remember one day as we took an alternative route to the market, my friend Tambo showed me a tiny triangular piece of land that was believed to be his possession. It was so absurd to own such a tiny piece of land – one would better remain landless, or so we thought. Nevertheless he indeed remains in our memories.
KAJOJI
Kajoji or George as we later came to know him was two years my senior. He liked the company of junior boys (mostly my age mates) because he could control everything we did. He used to dictate our movement and the type of games we played. He could command me and my friends – Magoyogoyo, Stiaka, Tambo and some that I cannot remember – to fight each other, in turns as the rest cheered.
He commanded everything including the time he thought was right for each and every game which included bantas, etiolo(spintop), lisondo(some kind of ball game played without one’s bottoms parting with the ground), safari rally, football etc.
He was so cheeky that he would send us to peoples’ farms to uproot ebirombela(sweet potato remnants after harvesting just as they begin to propagate), after which he would collect all of them and decide how to dish out to us.
Kajoji would later go to live with his aunt and from that time we have never seen each other again. Nevertheless I still remember him and the things he made us do in those days.
ANGATIA
The late Angatia, peace be upon his soul, was a cobbler by profession.
For a long time this elderly man (or should I say he appeared old to us by then) was the only cobbler in our shopping center, Emabungo. He was by all fair standards very rude and arrogant to his customers. He cared less about the aesthetic value of his finished products and this made us not to like his work. For instance he would drive long tacks in the soles of our shoes that would later start piercing our feet after some time of usage.
However he was so politically motivated that he usually attracted his fellow male friends who would read, analyze and debate current affairs in the dailies provided by him.
Due to this none of our parents would sent us to any other cobbler when our shoes had to be mended. In fact our fathers used to deliberately send us without money as they would settle these bills later as they congregated around him to politic. One would be forgiven to think that the value extracted from the newspapers surpassed the cost of his shoe repairs by far.
Though those were the strict days of KANU single party politics, Angatia seemed to belong to some kind of opposition for as long as we knew him.
He came from several villages away to ply his trade in our shopping center. He would later be pushed out of his trade by old age related ailments before we would hear of his demise much much later.
CHINJUNE
Injune (singular) in my language is a guy who pinches children’s ears. We had two chinjunes in record,one female and the other one was male.
The male injune used to be so swift that many a times we children would just find ourselves in his hands as he enjoyed doing what he used to do best.
The female injune on the other hand always carried a basket full of fruits that she sold at the market. She could roll down the slopes of Maseno Hills on her way to the market and then climb back again in the evening. Unlike the male injune, she always tricked us by pretending to offer us a banana and any of the kids would go for the offer at their own peril. She would get hold of us in a tight grip and start pinching our ears. One funny thing is that we never learned her tricks as this would repeat again and again.
This ear pinching business was like a possession to the two chinjunes. I have always wondered why they did not pass it down to their children.
OF GIRLS AND KALONGOLONGO
There were several girls with whom we played kalongolongo as they would complement the roles of mothers, aunties and sisters in our play group. Notably in my peer group we had Bebi, Nora, Melisa, Kusa and Hadija. We played together harmoniously but occasionally we could also fight each other. I vividly remember how one day Nora and Hadija sweet-talked me into dismantling the whole sleeve of my sweater so as to get thread and learn crocheting. That day I saw real fire at home.
There was also Dorica, Kajoji’s sister who was about three years my senior but taught us a lot of things and would more often than not protect us from the cruel hands of his naughty brother.
During all these kalongolongos, the common denominator was the endeavor on our part to enact the harmonious way of living demonstrated in our families then.
There are many other individuals and groups of individuals who impacted on me especially through schooling and whose various contribution I hold dear and spare for another day.
All in all I wish to depart from all that and state my appreciation to all those who have done many things for the good of our country and fellow countrymen by asking us not to tire doing all that good. I ask all of us to identify such people and just tell them THANK YOU as we mark Mashujaa Day.
IF WE BELIEVE IN OURSELVES AND BELIEVE IN EACH OTHER FOR COMMON GOOD THEN OUR VARIOUS LITTLE DEEDS WILL COLLECTIVELY MAKE OUR COUNTRY BE THE BEST TO LIVE IN. JUST LIKE MY VILLAGE WAS THE BEST TO LIVE IN THEN.
I PRAY FOR PLENTY TO ABOUND WITHIN OUR BODERS AND FOR US TO RESTORE BACK THE PEACE, LOVE AND HARMONY OF OUR FORE FATHERS.
GOD BLESS US AND GOD BLESS KENYA.
HAPPY MASHUJAA DAY TO ALL
