“Knock,............knock,................................knock…………………..
knock!”
Before we
could even respond to the robust knock on the door, it gave way. As the door slowly
curved in, a huge chisel-shaped human figure that almost scared the life out of
us was appearing. For a minute I held
tightly on my grandmother’s left leg. I’m sure she might have been shaken by my
cowardly act than by the monster of a figure at our kitchen door.
photo courtesy of ancestral voices |
Mambo Jogu, or
simply MJ had years ago defied his forefathers deeply held traditions by
ignoring the summons of the Njamba Noru (council of elders) after his heinous acts
of impunity. To the ridicule of many, MJ was sentenced to exile for 40 harvest
seasons (translated to 20 years) and was required never to be seen in the
vicinity of Katongu until the years had elapsed. As a consequence of defying
this order, his head would be presented to as a sacrifice to appease the
ancestors. MJ had no choice than to honor his day in court rather than face his
ancestors. Nonetheless the village was
not devoid of such acts. What was not clear is why the kinsmen of Katongu had seen
it fit to send one of its brave men into wilderness.
“Ariririririririiii
riiii riiii” my grandmother’s joy was beyond belief. I have never seen her
being overwhelmed like this before.
We all jumped
on our feet and stampeded to the door almost crushing my grandmother’s
cherished gourd that stored last night’s brew.
“CHILDREN,
CHILDREN…. Watch your steps or I will send you to sleep” (This sent a chill
down our spine knowing how true she was to her words.)
Though it
sounded a bit harsh at the moment as most of us were acting out of our own will
as everyone was caught by surprise, obedience was called for without second
thoughts. In a short while MJ was settled and clutching a mug of Granma’s
porridge unperturbed, his face betraying the emotions we all had amassed since
he stepped in.
The unfolding
events in the last couple of minutes imbibed into my thoughts as if the
concentration substrate had conspired to cause a PH imbalance. As I sat still,
my palms sunk in my cheeks as if to deflate the last traces of air from within.
It had never occurred to me before how the face of cruelty could turn its wrath
on its son till this moment. They had come to witness one of its sons, go
through the wrath of this deeply held traditions. For once, I was lost for
words as to where did such repulsive customs originate from. However, it must
never go unsaid that this same culture had made heroes celebrated worldwide as
well as labeled the bravest of men’s as cowards.
No matter how
inquisitive I was no woman or man in the village of Katongo had acquired the
courage
to satisfy my thirst for answers. They all seemed surprised of my braveness to
question these beliefs of their claimed gods. Since then I came to understand
the origin of my clan’s cautiousness. Everyone seemed not to exercise some
criticism to the traditions, taboos, and all the tribe’s does and don’ts.
However, I appreciated their continued perceptions of those that dared to break
away from this culture in pursuit of their beliefs. It might have been a taboo
to break away from what seemed to have become a norm. How fortunate were my
kinsmen that they had lived in tandem with all the mysteries surrounding them
without having to question their origin.
In view of
the world order today, I see my kinsmen spread far and wide; they have mastered
the art of all nations, both in language and cultures. Their interactions with
the nations are evidenced by their intermarriages and multilingual skills.
Nothing has come close to what MJ epitomized. We have become accustomed to the
adventures of our thinking not the mere dictations of our kin. We endeavor to
make our lives and those of our children better than our forefathers. We embody
the human spirit that depicts struggles and success alike without the deceitfulness
of our toils. In as much as the world has washed our history in a bid to
blacken the mystery that surrounds our origin, nothing seems to defeat the fact
that we have deep roots in our conservative myths and traditions.
Let it be
told that our forefathers struggled to defend their origin; they sacrificed
their toils for the sake of our future. Midst the race struggles they defeated
the devil. They stood aloof of the fact that theirs was a fight in vain. Today
we can never be wished away just because they sought to gain a true identity.
They unmasked and risked to face a bitter backlash from the rest of the world, who
thought they never mattered.
Although we
may not be in agreement with some of their atrocious deeds, we seem confident
theirs was a worthy course. One that has made us who we are and has continued
to raise more mystery than history can behold. We are because they were, we
shine because they persevered, and we progress because they digressed from the
norm. Our forefathers lived according to what was their source of heritage,
whether we term it archaic or backward. Their customs, taboos, and traditions were
a testimony of their existence. Recognition that they were present before us,
their existence is an attestation of our origin.
Therefore, as
we celebrate the BLACK HISTORY MONTH let us be humbled by our forefathers’ acts
of courage to stand put against the currents of the world. Let us embrace the
culture that unites us, and preserve that which identifies us. We should
remember that we are a race that should embrace each other in DEEDS and in SPIRIT.
Our unity should not be a coincidence but that which was intended by our
forefathers. We should not be quick to condemn those among us who stand
robust of their culture in mind. However, our conscience should befit that of a
hero in times of war, to stand and defend our common identity. We are yet to
achieve that which we are, as we work twice as hard to access our endowments.
Let us
embrace each other and live knowing that our entitlement is not a silver
platter but a conscious will to overcome the hurdles that our forefathers
fought to standby. Just as Mambo J. understood the heinous acts of his kinsmen
and obeyed without an atom of bereavement despite a life devoid of tranquility.
I urge you all to learn the art of embrace and forge forward with humility to
claim that which you are entitled. The Kingship is ours, where, OUR HISTORY IS
OUR HERITAGE.
William Murithi, © 2014
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