Chapter 2

  

     "Tangu Tangu...," called out one of the boys in the group. His name was Okayo.

     "Eee (yeees)," chorused the rest.

     "Nyang' omaka (the crocodile has clutched me)."

     "Eee. Omako ang'oni (Yeees. Which part of you has it clutched)?"

     "Omako tienda (it has clutched my leg)." He then dived into the water and the others too dived looking for him. 

     "Ayude (I've found him)!" shouted another, resurfacing with Okayo on his back. The others rejoiced.

     "Tangu, Tangu," called out another.

     "Eee," chorused the rest, and the game continued. It was the dramatization of an old folklore in which a fishing crew (Tangu) dared the torrent waves and sea beasts to save the life of a boy seized by a crocodile while bathing at the shore of Nam Lolwe, the great lake of the people.

     "Hey! Did you hear that?" cautioned Okayo. They all stopped playing and listened. There was nothing, except the sound of birds chirping on trees and the throbbing river wading down the thick forest. "Does anyone hear that sound? Oboo, do you?" They all laughed, all except Okayo. "No. I think I heard something, like a croogling sound."

     "It's the river and the birds, you chicken," replied Oboo. They all laughed again and returned to playing. After some time, a stone about the size of a hunter's club-head splashed into the water. The boys stopped playing and looked around scared.

     "Who did that?" asked Oboo. He was the eldest among the boys.

     "It's from the bush. I told you I heard something, and you called me a coward," replied Okayo.

     "You didn't splash that into the water to scare us, did you?" asked Oboo, chucking his rattle out of the cot. He moved closer to Okayo. "I'm asking you, did you just throw that stone into the water to scare us?" Silence. Suddenly, a man clothed in a pair of short and t-shirt and armed to the teeth jetted out of the bush. Two others, a man and a woman, followed him carrying bags. 

     "It's the Blue-eyed. Ruuuun!" shouted Oboo. Fear gave them legs. They started running in different directions. Those who were far off the bank dived into the water.

     "Stop! Don't move," shouted the armed man. The boys did not understand. The man pulled up his gun in position.

     "Stop, James! These are just kids," implored the woman.

     "I know, Grace. I'm using rubber bullets," replied James. He pulled the trigger.

     "Aaaaaaa aaa aaaaaaa," one of the boys made a loud heart-jerking shrill and fell onto the ground. He had just been shot at the leg. The other boys at the bank turned and met the dreadful sight of their friend sprawling on the ground, writhing in pain, blood gushing out of his left shank. They were shocked, but would not leave him behind, for the sake of friendship and respect for cultural norms. Neither could they proceed with their escape lest they all be like their friend. They gathered around him. They were about twenty in number. "Aaaaaa uuuush wooooi. Help meeee. I'm dying," the shot boy cried even more. They also began to cry, gripped by the agony of their friend and seeing that the two men and woman were crossing over to them. 

     "James, what did you do? See... you made a real shot," complained Grace when they had drawn closer to the boys.

     "Oh! I forgot to change the bullets. Anyway, it's no big deal. Can't you see I just shot the leg of the monkey," replied James, topping it up with laughter. "Hey, kevin. Won't you give this coon first aid instead of standing over there like a dry post." The man referred to opened his bag and removed a first aid kit. He bent down and began the process of pulling out the bullet and dressing the wound.

     Oboo stood in front of the boys, leering at James and stretching out his arms backwards as a form of bulwark to his group. Were they going to be manhandled or taken to a camp far away from home? What did the Blue-eyed want from them? Was it now, after so long, wrong to swim in the river? These questions ran through his mind and set him blazing in a formidable apprehension. In place of the man standing in front of him, he saw a crocodile that had devoured one of his crewmen and was just about to pounce on another, or perhaps the whole crew. He tried to contain himself, but fear and anxiety found their way out through his arms and legs.

     "These naked monkeys...," said James looking at the boys, and frothing at the mouth. "Oh God... forgive these sinful creatures. Dress them up, Grace. Dress the monkeys." Grace opened her bag and pulled out a pile of clothes. "The boys are too many; these won't be enough," she said. "Do you want me to go back to the truck, or what are you suggesting?" asked James. "If you don't mind," she replied. He looked at her for a moment, then said, "They aren't your children, I suppose, and tomorrow... is another day. Alright?" "Oh, I wish they were mine," she mumbled as she turned over the pile of clothes looking for shorts and t-shirts. Then she started clothing them one after the other.

     "Eeiish oooo woooi," the boy moaned as the first-aider pulled the bullet out of his wound.

     "Quiet, boy. You will be alright," he told the boy, placing the bullet on a tissue paper. He washed the wound with spirit and went about bandaging him. "What's your name?" The boy did not reply, the words fell onto his ears like the sound of a cymbal.

     "He is in great pain he won't even talk to me," said the first-aider looking at James. 

     "He told you so? Did you expect it to hear what you're saying, kevin? You're such an ass."

     "There's no need of calling me kevin. We're either all or no kevins out in this continent."

     "Haha. You're a working class, George, and I surmise they pay you well for this job... this job of... how do you even call it? First-aid-kitting? Haha. We're all earning, bro. Don't be pissed off just because I called you a kevin in this dark... anyway, does being here even change the facts? Hahaha. Once a kevin always a kevin."

     "I think we're not getting along well, James. I wonder how and why being in the army changed your attitude towards humanity? Next time I'll prefer going out with someone else."

     "What are you talking about? Are you going to report to Dr. Hobley that I'm stubborn? Haha. Go ahead."

     "Not just stubborn, you're an animal."

     "What! What did you just say? Did you call me an animal?" He moved closer to George.

     "Yes, you are. I'm not afraid to tell you, James. In fact even animals have feelings. Look at what you did to this kid." He stood up and faced him. "You're an idiot." James gave him a clout on the cheek and spat on him, fuming with anger.

      "Hey! Stop! What are you guys doing?" shouted Grace rushing in between them. "This is not right. We have a mission to accomplish."

     "Tell him I'm not an idiot," said James.

     "Can't you see what he has just done to a little harmless kid? I'm going to report this to Dr. Hobley."

     "And do you think he's going to do anything about it?"

     "It's... It's OK guys. Stop this silly ranting. We have to get moving." She picked up her bag and began to walk away.

     "Grace, are we going to leave this kid out here just like this?" asked George.

     "What else can we do, dear? I'd love to bring him along with us. But you know it's not part of our mission and Dr. Hobley and that... and James won't allow it. You've bandaged him properly, allow his friends to take him home."

     "OK." He packed back his first aid kit and placed it in his bag. They left without another word as the boys watched in wonderment. The boys lifted up their injured friend and left for home.

                                      ***                             

     Osayo was back from holding an evening prayer in front of the Long-lasting Tree when he found a small crowd gathered in his homestead. He wondered what the people might be discussing. He drew near for a better grasp.

     At the middle of the crowd were his three boys in a strange attire and his brother's son, Okech, lying on the ground, heaving in pain. Before he could set his mind on the most proper question to ask, his brother walked up to him and began bawling out at him.

     "See what you have done to me, brother. I have been telling you to leave my family alone. But however much I say that to you, you disregard me and continue to mistreat me," said Ogola, tears cascading his cheeks. "What on earth did I do to you to deserve all these. Look at what your kids have done to my son. They have taken my son to the Blue-eyed to beat him up and break his leg. Brother, I have forgiven you more than can be told by word of mouth, but this... this... aah brother, you've gone too far. Look at the troubles you've caused my family... ."

     Osayo walked away into his hut. He would not stand to listen to his brother's confrontation, nor a lecture to him on something he made neither head nor tail of, especially not after prayers. He closed the hut's door and lay down in his bed. He began to ponder over his relationship with his brother. It was not good at all. He kept asking Nyasaye to forgive him for all the shameful things he had done to him, but every time he did so, something new just popped up. It was very hard to seal numerous loops at once. 

     He reminisced how the conflict started. He was grazing his flock deep inside the forest at a spot close to the river one day when he caught a glimpse of Nyar-Yimbo, his brother's wife, bathing in the river. She had a cute and alluring physique, and he was immediately filled with the desire to have her in bed. He knew that was almost impossible and the most sinister act a priest of his stature would ever do. But driven by what he could now only define as 'a demon inside him', he hid in a thicket and waited until she had climbed up the hillock. Then he grabbed her and forced her into the act. She conceived and gave birth. Even at that point, her husband knew nothing yet. But with time, the two fell deeply in love. No wonder Nyar-Yimbo enjoyed going to the river even when it rained the whole sky. After a long time, and really a long time it was, Ogola began to smell a rat. And sure enough, his thoughts turned out to be true when one day he trailed after his wife and caught the two in the act.

     The matter remained a secret between the two families. They decided to wipe the slate and move on after a small cleansing ritual and their mother's intervention. Thank God Ogola did not discover he had a bastard in his family,  and who could tell how many they were after such a long time of extramarital affairs?

     The next malefic act was that in which Osayo tried to cast off an evil spirit from his son to Ogola's. It seemed ancestral spirits had a craving for his blood. After they had attacked his eldest son at a tender age, they came back for yet another son. This time round, instead of consulting a seer, commonly known as ajuoga, he consulted jabilo (a sorcerer practising harmful witchcraft) who tried to send off the evil spirit to the young Okech. Unfortunately, the witchcraft boomeranged and ended up killing his possessed son. Ogola discovered the ill intent when a seer visited his home and talked to him about 'the dark forces that were pulling down his home'. When he confronted his brother regarding the issue, Osayo denied and heckled him bitterly, invigorating the bad blood between them.

     As if that was just a sigh of relief, Osayo lied to people, just anyone he had the chance of speaking with, that Ogola was using bilo (witchcraft) for the prosperity of his home, that he had found him offering sacrifices near their father's graveside at midnight. It wasn't until this rumour found its way into Ogola's ears that people re-accepted him in their homes with ease. He had to clear his name off with everyone he met. People practising dark magic were feared and unwanted the world over. 

     These occurrences proved to Ogola that, indeed, Osayo envied his prosperity and wellbeing. At this point, he declared to himself that he would not sit down and watch his brother tear his home apart. And when he heard that his son had been maltreated by the Blue-eyed while playing with Osayo's kids, he knew the waters were going up his shoulders and decided to openly express his disgust. He did not care to know what had transpired; he just believed his brother's iron fist was hidden in the misfortune.

     Osayo waited until the crowd in his homestead had dispersed and tranquillity resumed, then he summoned his three sons who had encountered the Blue-eyed at the river into his hut. They walked in and stood by door, seized by fear.

     "Can you explain to me what happened?" demanded Osayo. For a moment no one spoke, and then...

     "Baba, it was him...," broke out Ochola, the youngest of the three.

     "Who did what?"

     "Who suggested that we go swimming at the river."

     "Baba, it was while we were playing, then Okayo said he heard a sound...," said Gumba, the eldest boy.

     "And you all said I was a coward," Okayo cut him off. "Baba, we were playing then I heard the sound of something big coming towards us. I told everyone to stop and listen, but they said they heard nothing."

     "He always hear things that people don't hear and see things that people don't see," Gumba interposed.

     "And then...?" enquired Osayo.

     "And then the Blue-eyed threw a stone into the river and shortly afterwards appeared from the bush, and while we tried to escape, they pointed at Okech with something and hit him at the leg," explained Okayo.

     "Why don't you tell Baba that he wanted to beat you?" Gumba reminded Okayo.

     "Who?" enquired Osayo.

     "Oboo," answered Okayo.

     "Omolo's son?" asked Osayo.

     "Yes. He thought I threw the stone into the river. And when I told him I did not, he would still not agree. But... don't beat him, Baba... he's our friend," replied Okayo, trembling.

     "He's your friend... when he wanted to hit you?" Osayo wondered aloud.

     "He... he just meant well, Baba. He always protect us," explained Okayo.

     "Does he?"

     "Yes, Baba. He does," affirmed Gumba. Osayo did not like the boy, especially after his father joined the Blue-eyed's religion. He had declared himself a sworn enemy of the new faith.

     "OK. I'll look into that. Then what happened after that, after they hit Okech?"

     "They wore us these things and... and removed something from Okech's wound, poured something onto it and rubbed, tied it the way it is and left," said Gumba.

     "Removed something from his wound?" asked Osayo.

     "Yes, Baba," replied Ochola.

     "OK. From today onward, you shall not go to the river without your mothers or elder siblings. Do you hear me?"

     "Yes, Baba," they chorused.

     "Leave." Ochola and Gumba left but Okayo remained standing. "What do you want, kid?"

     "Baba. Is it true that what I hear people don't hear and what I see people don't see?"

     "No. You're alright, my son. They were not only as keen as you were and always are."

     "OK, Baba." Satisfied with his father's answer, he left the hut too. Osayo however knew his son had supernormal abilities. He reminisced what Akelo had told him so many years ago.

                                 ***

     That evening, Nyowila's grandchildren gathered into her hut to listen to her sweet narratives and do riddles and tongue-twisters. They sat around the fire in the kitchen house eating nyoyo (a boiled mixture of maize and beans) as they paid close attention to her. But she spoke little that day, and her voice sounded frail. She had been ill for several days and was just recovering. She was toiling through her one hundred and thirtieth season on earth, and as most people said, age and good health do not mix just as milo bread and coles do not make a fine meal.

     Okayo sat very close to her grandmother. Of all her grandchildren, Nyowila had a soft spot for Okayo. "One day, you will be a great leader, my grandson. When that time comes, remember this, a true leader is him who saves his people," she would often tell him. That night, Okayo cuddled himself up close to her and drifted into slumber as usual.

     "Where are your step-father's children?" inquired Nyowila.

     "He said they would not come today?" replied Akinyi.

     "Who said?"

     "Wuon Okech."

     "Why?"

     "Okech was hit by the Blue-eyed and... and... that's all we know," replied Gumba.

     "Oh! The Blue-eyed are a rogue nation." She cleared her throat and drank a calabash of water she had placed beside her.

     "Chon chon gi lala... (once upon a time)," she began narrating, "there was a man of the lake who said in his heart, 'When I marry and start having children, I will take good care of my family.' His name was Opondo. He was a fisherman at Nam Lolwe. So when time came, when he had enough dowry to pay, a thousand bulls and ten thousand goats as it were those days, Opondo searched in the east and west, north and south, and found for himself one beautiful damsel, a daughter of the lake. But lo! A season went by, two seasons, three, four, five... and finally the reality of his wife being barren hit him, and he had to offer sacrifices to Nyasaye to exterminate the curse from his wife. When his wife finally conceived and gave birth, to their surprise, she gave birth to a monitor lizard. They killed the child and buried it immediately. When she conceived and gave birth the second time, she bore another monitor lizard which they also killed. Nine times she gave birth to monitor lizards and they killed and buried all of them. When she gave birth to a lizard the tenth time, they were tired of killing their children and decided to let the lizard live to see what would happen. They named it Ojwang'. What do you think Ojwang' ate when he grew up?"

     "Leaves," answered Adhiambo.

     "Fish," said Ochola.

     "Chicks," said Gumba.

     "No. He ate exactly the same food that the rest of his family ate... meat, fish, kuon (ugali), veges, porridge, cassava, potatoes... all, everything," she went on narrating. "When Ojwang' had grown up, he used to go to the lake to swim. At the lake, he'd remove his lizard skin before he entered the water. And in the water, he'd turn into a very handsome man. A passerby saw him doing this and informed his parents. They followed him to the lake one day and were surprised to see him turn into a handsome man in the water. They therefore sneaked to the shore and stole away his lizard skin, and when he came out of the waters, he remained a human being. The couple desired in vain their nine kids that they had killed without knowing the remedy for the problem. Finally, when days more numerous than hair on a sheep's skin had passed, Ojwang' was loved and accepted by the whole community."

     "Wow! What a nice story!" exclaimed Gumba.

     "Oh it was so sweet I didn't expect it to end so soon," said Otolo.

     "Mmmm... dana (grandmother), give us another story," requested Ochola.

     "Well, that's enough for today, children. What moralities have you learnt from the story?"

     "We should be compassionate towards people with physical defects," answered Adhiambo.

     "Very well. Any other lesson?"

     "Be thankful to Nyasaye for whatever He gives you. After all, he has a purpose for all that he creates or gives," said Gumba.

     "That's okay, kids. Sometimes Nyasaye brings his blessings in a disguise.  Some time long ago in the history of our people, before we were all born, a terrible plague broke out in the sea and began spreading to the land. A swarm of tiny insects emanated from whence nobody knew, and invaded people's homes, menacing their health and peace. They bit nobody, but buzzed in people's ears and entered the eyes of kids and animals. Then people thought... mmmmh, what shall we do to end this? Is it that Nyasaye and the spirits are angry? So they went to the mountains and offered sacrifices, and Nyasaye returned to his people and spoke by the mouth of a seer... He said, 'Look at my people. I give them food and they complain to me. Shall I therefore take away food and give them hunger?' People wondered how flies could be eaten... flies... those tiny insects, the size of a millet grain. While they sat, thinking hard, somebody came up with an idea. They would go out to the shore of the great lake with aditni (baskets made of wattle and cow-dung) in the morning when the flies rose from the lake and hold them facing the sea. So the people did exactly that and the flies came out in swarms and entered the baskets so that everyone had a full basket of flies home. Then they sat in shades, squeezing the flies into thick solids and making of them small pats half the size of my palm. They dried the pats in the sun till evening and when they cooked the food, it turned out delicious, sweater than fish and mutton. They called it anang'a because, as always, when you finish eating it, you remain licking your fingers. And that's how this seafood came about, my grandchildren. Is it not such a nice food that we eat?"

     "Yes... yes it is," mumbled Okayo. Everybody turned and looked at him. Had he not been asleep? He lay on the dung-glibbed floor, next to Nyowila,  fast asleep. They shook his body, but he did not rise, only snored more, and they wondered. He was far away, crossing over a delicate wooden bridge. A crowd waited for him on the other side of the river. The woods holding the bridge together were rotten and about to break apart. Below the woods was a dark abyss. He could not see the water, nor the trees, nothing. He looked into the crowd and saw his grandmother smiling and gesturing at him to come forth quickly. And while he made the first two steps onto the bridge, the crowd withheld their breath.

     "He is listening to us," said Nyowila.

     "How could that be? Is he a spirit, dana?" asked Gumba.

     "Hush! Don't say that again. He is listening. It's a gift. Shall we not do leo-lep (tongue-twisters) now? Who is ready?" Akinyi raised up her hand. "That's my granddaughter, always number one."

     "An-gi leo-lep (I have a tongue-twister)," Akinyi introduced.

    "Lew ane (twist it)," they all accepted.

    "Achiemie tap chotna malando, chotna chiemie tapa malando. Achiemie tap chotna malando, chotna chiemie tapa malando (I eat from my lover's red dish, my lover eats from my red dish)." 

     "Who can repeat that?" asked Nyowila.

     "Here. Me," accepted Otolo. He tried twice but failed. The others laughed. They also tried but failed.

     "Any other?" requested Nyowila. Ochola raised up his hand. He made the short introduction, then proceeded, "Achodh chuny chuoth nyoch ng'or, chuny chuoth nyoch ng'or chodhre achodha. Achodh chuny chuoth nyoch ng'or, chuny chuoth nyoch ng'or chodhre achodha (I scoop from the middle of a green gram meal, the middle of a green gram meal is scoopable)." Again, the others tried but failed. Only Adhiambo got it right this time round. They all clapped for her.

     "Rao luor liel, liel luor rao (the elephant goes around the grave, the grave goes around the elephant). Rao ruor riel..." It was Gumba. He mixed up the the sounds in the repeat, and everybody laughed. 

     While they tore their hearts with laughter, however, Nyowila's strength suddenly waned and she fell backwards onto the floor. 

     "Dana!" shouted Gumba.

     "Dana!" Okayo also called out to his grandmother as the wooden bridge broke apart in his dream. "Dana! Am falling," he cried out again. His voice echoed into the calm atmosphere. He began to slide downward with the broken part of the bridge. Darkness covered him, and he could not tell how far he was from the ground. Fear gripped him as he continued to go down. And then he heard someone crying out with a loud voice, "Uuuuwi! Mayoooo! Mayoo mamaaa." His eyelids fell apart and, to his astonishment, he met a crowd surrounding him. He looked around confusedly, onto the people... elderly women standing by, some singing dirges, some crying... but did he just hear somebody mourn for... he quickly glanced beside him, and saw his grandmother lying still on the floor, his plate of nyoyo tumbled on her dress. What? Was she alright? He moved closer to her and ran his fingers over her body, felt her chest. She was as cold and stiff as a dry wood rained on for several days. He was hit by the reality; his grandmother was gone never to be heard from again! He fell onto her and cried with a loud voice, tears gushing out as if they had just been told to do so. He mourned for his grandmother wailing on the floor. Then someone went to him, held him up and walked him out of the hut.

    Osayo ran into his mother's hut, with a spear in his right hand. He moved it from one edge of the hut to the other, now above the people, the next minute onto the floor, and the next moment by his mother. He did not stop at one point, he just raved about with it like an angry warrior in the battlefield. On his other hand was a shield. All this time he sang a dirge.

"Obote, mano thuon mane monindo e ot kanyono?

Mano nyar ng'aa?

Mano ok Atieno nyar Olembo?

Erooo...

Tho ni lich manadi!

Okawo joma roteke,

Omwonyo mine majochiya.

Obote, dak ilos kuot wa?

Kaw kuot kod okumba e badi,

Wan gi welo e dala to jawasigu oluorowa,

Ma wach matek manadi!

Erooo...

Erooo...

Nee, omera, gol ruadhno oko,

Yajowa, nyathini timre nadi!

Yang' dheno piyo welo nika,

Dhako onindo e bade to pod uchung' nango?

Atieno ni dhako maratego ndi,

Dhako ni kunene onindo, paro oloko,

Un kanye nyikwa Ramogi? Bi unee wachni,

Un kanye nyikwa Ajwang'? Bi uwinjie wachni,

Atieno ma mera ni,

Puodho opuro gi lwete kende,

Dero opong' gi bel du,

Rech to owang'o ndi, moko omoyo lokore obambla,

Atieno ni ema kuongo ne thuon gweno chung',

Wawito chuny dalani,

Nind gi kuwe, Nyowila,

Erooo...

Erooo."

Translation:

" Obote, which warrior is that sleeping in the hut?

Whose daughter is that?

Is that not Atieno, the daughter of Olembo?

There she goes...

How great is death!

It snatches the strong,

It swallows beautiful women.

Obote, why don't you prepare the club?

Take a club and a shield into your hand,

We have visitors at home, but the enemy surrounds us,

What a hard thing it is!

There she goes...

There she goes...

Look, brother, get out that bull,

Dammit, how is this child carrying out himself!

Slaughter the cattle quickly, the visitors are here

A woman has lain on her hands, why are you still standing?

Atieno is such a strong woman,

When you see this woman lying down, thoughts have changed,

Where are you Ramogi's grandchildren? Come and see this,

Where are you Ajwang's grandchildren? Come and hear this,

Atieno who is my mother,

Digs the farm with her own hands,

The granary is filled with sorghum,

She really fries fish, dries some in the sun,

It is this Atieno that rises before the cock,

We have lost the heart of this home,

Sleep in peace, Nyowila,

There she goes...

There she goes... ."

     When he finished singing the dirge, he hooked the spear firmly onto the floor and began to cry. It was not good for a man to cry openly, but when he remembered the good pieces of advice Nyowila had given him and how she had solved the problems between him and his younger brother, Ogola, he cried like a child on the bare floor, and no one could pacify his emotions. 

     When he finally lifted up his eyes, he saw Ogola also hurtfully moaning at a corner in the hut. He had not seen him all along. He wanted to plod over to him and say sorry, but something held him in bait. It was as if one generation had come to an end in one night, marking the beginning of a new era of distrust and hatred. It must not be forgotten that she was the oldest in that clan at that time.