Mutumia athi kutwa na mwiitu wake

Father and daughter: Maka tells weird stories, banter, and punchlines. Stock photo

Ve mundu umwe wa Kinyambu andu matamwisi nesa. Kisioni etawa Maka. Aingi meaniawa no yiu, onakutwika isitwa yake ya kivandi ni Miko. Maka ekalaa na andu kwa nzia syonthe ila matonya kwithwa me eanie. Ndukomana na Maka ukatiwa utathekete. Otaila nina komanie nake Kinyambu ndunyu.

Twakomana na Maka, ndanaandindilya. Angulililye kama ninisi nthi indi ivindukite na mituki yiana. Ndanamba umusungia, Maka niwaendeeie, “Niwisi kana kumaundu tumwe twonekaa twi laisi matuku aa twai vinya ivinda ya tene?” 

Maka oosie ivuso yiu kundavya ngewa ya mutumia umwe waimwaniki wa miatu tene. Mutumia usu, Maka ndaamundavya isitwa, nakwa ndyaa mukulya, anikaa miatu vaasa na musyi wake. Uithi kutwa, Maka ambiie, waile kumya utuku muima wa wia usu. 

Mwiao wa kutwa niwesikie. Mundu aile kuthi kutwa na mwana wake ula mukuu. Ethiwa ndenake, ta mutumia uu, aile kuthi kutwa na mwiitu wake. Lakini kwa mutumia uu vaina kathina. 

“Mutumia kotai ayenda kukoma na mwiitu wake kuma tene,” Maka andavya. Kwoou kyatini kii mutumia usu onie akwatiwa ni ikoka. No wia ula wai vinya ni kumanya indi ukwambiia ngewa isu na mwiitu wake mekithekani maitwa. 

Mutumia na mwiitu wake wa miaka 15 ni makwatie nzia makatwe. Makuite mwii, isingi ilumu, nzola, na kithembe. Mwiitu aikitwe mavula maukomea meku kithani. Kila umwe aina muyo kyaloni. Kwa itumi kivathukanyo. Mwiitu aivata muno na uki wa nzuki. 

Nziani mutumia onekanaa atongoetye. Aendee kutavya mwiitu wake tukelwa, muno muno aelekelye kumwonia indi kithekani kyu maendete kiitiawa na maimu. Naningi ekalaa aimuumisya na kumwonia kana vayingwa thina nongi tondu we ni ngumbau. Vata mwingi wa uki watumite mwiitu alea kwosa ngewa isu taundu. Akulasya keka ni mavika akasama masyana.

Yi mavikie, mutumia ni waseuvisya isinga na ambata mutini akatwe. Mwiitu atiiwe ambite mwii. Kwai na uki mwingi muno, tondu kithembe ni kyausuie oitina wa masaa ta eli ou. Mutumia auma mwatuni mekalile nthi na mwiitu wake maya uki meania. Saa wa kukoma wavika. 

“Makomie kyauni?” nakulya Maka.

“Mitini iulu.” 

Mutumia aseuvisye mwiitu wake mutini vandu va ukoma nake amantha muti wake ovau vakuvi aseuvya ukomo. Na makoma. Kana mwiitu akoma. Saa ii mutumia owanite na mutwe esila nzia yiva aeleeke ni mwiitu wake. Itina wa masaa ta atatu, niwasoanie kasila kawo. Ambiie kuneena eweka ongelete wasya:

“Ndienda ndeto isu….. ai aiee, ndyisa kwitikila!…… ai nike ata? Nau? Mwiitu wakwa?.....ai aiee, ndyisa kwitikila!”

Kelele usu ni wavikie mwiitu wake na amuka. Yii mutumia ukukukuna kelele usu mwitu wake niweew'aa. Niwo wamukulilye kila kithuku na mutumia amwia vaiikindu, akome. Mutumia amanya kamuvango kake nikaw’o.

Itina wa isaa ta yimwe, aambiia ila ndeto ingi. Yiu okilitywe wasya ukethia mwitu niweew’a vyu.

Mwitu amwisuvie ithe amutavye kila kina thina. Mutumia eyumiisye amwia ni ala maimu umutavisye meumusumbua. Mwitu amukulya ithe indi maimu meumwia. Mutumia ndaatidilya. Eeie mwiitu maimu mena thina na menda Maundu utesa umutuavya, akome. Ndatika 30 itanathela, ula mutumia asyokea kuw'a mbu, ta ukuthiana na maimu.

“Mbona nimwiie ndwisa kwitikila? Ai aiee, ndwitikila!........ uu ni mwitu wakwa…..ai aiee! Ndwisa kwitikila! Yii, mwenda mbuaei, na muimwosa mwikane nake indi mukwenda! Ai aieee….”
Atanamina uneeni usu, mutumia ewie wasya wa mwiitu wake ungu wa muti ula mutumia wakomete aendee na kuw’a mbu.

“Mwitu eeie muse oke eke indi maimu mekwenda nundu ndekwenda kutianiw’a namo,” Maka aminiie ngewa yake vu. Na angulya kana ninew’a indi andu ma tene mathinaa.

Teke Teke ikesa kuka Kinyambu, nasya imanthe Maka.

Blood-spirited lass bears the brunt of family tradition, hatred in Ukambani

Image of a witchdoctor from Zimbamwe: The tradition of seeing witchdoctors is a common practice in Kibwezi.

Do you know what will cause your death? Scores do not. Peris Nthenya is exceptional.

The 26-year-old mother of three is strongly convicted that her death will result from bouts of depression and related conditions that she has been undergoing. 

“When my husband passed on,” begun Nthenya, when we met in her new residence in Kinyambu market, “I went down on depression.” 

Nthenya married the now late husband in 2008. They met in Mombasa where the husband was engaged in menial works. Until his death, they had had three children. 

The depression that Nthenya suffered following the death of the husband had little to do with the bereavement and the loss of her beloved father of her two sons and a daughter.

“Not that I did not mourn my husband. I certainly did. But the mistreatment I suffered at the hands of my in-laws and the community was unbearable,” she owned. 

While still mourning her husband, even before the actual burial, Nthenya had to undergo rites she admits she could not imagine existed anywhere in the world in 21^st century. Her in-laws, especially the brothers, believed that was responsible for the death of her husband. Ironically, she was to undergo these rites to exonerate herself from her actions. 

“Six witchdoctors visited our home at the dead of the night,” she opened up, her eyes welling with tears, “and each went ahead administering their theatrics on me even without my consent.” They came from all places. One of them, a woman, came from Tanzania. 

“In my zombified state, I remember spotting Menze smoking around the eaves of our kitchen,” she said referring to a notorious witchdoctor from the neighboring Muusini village who has been n exile after she slipped through the fingers of villagers baying for her blood following the admission by her accomplices that she was behind the killing of at least 30 villagers. 

Enquiring on what exactly the witchdoctors did to her, Nthenya became hesitant. 

“OK. How are you faring on with your business,” I tried to change the line of questioning. 

Nthenya resolved to go back to Mombasa and start some vegetables business. She sold three of her goats and left for Mtwapa in Mombasa. She confided that her late husband’s meager savings went sunk in the pockets of the traditional doctors. 

“Without my consent, the in-laws had used my 40, 000 shillings to pay for the services rendered by the witchdoctors,” owned Nthenya. 

She admitted that business has not been favorable. Consequently, she closed shop in Mombasa and relocated to Kinyambu market. She then begs to revisit the encounter with the witchdoctors. 

 “Extremely embarrassing!” she exclaimed, in a shrill voice, and went on. “In one incident, I was herded together with the in-laws, including their wives, to one corner of the farm.”

 “Do you know black ants, their home?” she sought to know, now staring straight at my eyes to reveal her sore eyes. Before I could nod to the affirmative, she went on revealing how in the dead of the night she was ordered to urinate into one of the homes of black ants as the rest filed themselves in an arch, watching. 

“I was not supposed to have my clothes on,” she admitted, then wiped her welling eyes and blew her nose.

When she steeled, she went on narrating how in another incident she was supposed to sleep with two elderly witchdoctors in one night. 

“This is not something I should be sharing,” she cautiously began detailing the second incident. “In the direction of an elderly aunt in law, I was supposed to sleep with these two stinking old men as she watched.”

“Nothing has been more embarrassing and traumatizing.” 

Nthenya’s episodes, though exaggerated, are not isolated in Kibwezi.  In most families, it is normal to seek the services of witchdoctors occasionally. Whenever one is seeking for a job, it is almost natural that they seek the guidance of witchdoctors. 

Interestingly, even those in the generation Y category and finding these services inevitable. According to Peterson Kimeu, 30, charms are instrumental for survival.  

“Everyone needs protection from witches and you need good luck too,” offered Kimeu, reaching for his ancient wallet to reveal what seems like a piece of tail of a wall gecko fitting in one of the pockets. 

“Without this, I would not have maintained my driver’s job for the 8 years now,” he justified. 

Nthenya concurs on this and goes ahead owning that she spend the larger part of her marriage life fighting this superstition. She earned her first beating from the husband after she accessed his wallet and got out a talisman he had kept in secret during their marriage. But it was in futility since she had gone ahead and discarded the stuff. 

Those challenging the status quo live to suffer. Nthenya had to abandon the rural home after the brothers in law ganged up with the parents to evict her. With the children in elementary school in Maikuu Primary School, she thought it wise to rent a house in Kinyambu market. 

“From here, I attend clinics whenever the depression strikes. Sometimes I am so low that I almost think of drafting a will. But before I wake up, I think ‘for what property?’ then I succumb to the weakness,” she said.

University dropout burns to join college after a long stint in the sun

Kinyambu village is very interesting. Villagers are fond of peddling rumors that touch on serious matters. Nobody would bother explore further the heart of the stories. The rumormongers would just move on. Consequently, most of these rumors would fizzle out.

Nevertheless, the story on Clement Mutua Mwangangi dropping out of college and venturing into menial labor has refused to die, for years. Perhaps explaining this unusual development is the fact the subject, popularly known as Clement, does not shy from telling the story. 

“Many people do not know that I was at the university,” owned the 44 year old Clement when we met last Saturday. “I was taking bachelor of sciences in Egerton University.” This was between 1992 and 1994, he added. He went on to describe how he dropped out of college during his third year following domestic squabbles pitting his mother and his newlywed wife, Ndungwa. 

Clement married Ndungwa, the mother of his five children, in 1993, barely a year after joining college. To Clement, Ndungwa’s disagreements with the mother in law were unbearable that he resolved to leave. “To avoid succumbing to depression, I decided to vamoose. I opted for Mombasa where I immersed into business, procuring vegetables and fruits from Kongowea market to sell in Mikindani,” admitted Clement, frowning on his sunburned countenance. Here, he made lots of money. “Henceforth, I made my mind not to go back to Nakuru,” he said referring to the main campus of Egerton University. 

While in Mombasa, he would hear nothing of the warring women in the village until his brother Morris came calling. Following the insistence of Morris, Clement decided to close shop and head back to Kilungu village where he would join his family. Here, he started a kiosk at his home where he sold grocery, paraffin and bread. Soon its stock was depleted, and was finished, marking the closure of the shop. This is the point where Clement decided to revisit a skill he learned in Matuu Memorial Secondary School: masonry. 

“Luck has been on my side,” he owned, grinning from ear to ear. “Morris tendered me to build his rural house.” This first project is what Clement believes propelled him into popularity in the building industry. Soon, he landed several smalltime projects in his village before landing a major deal of erecting a business premises at the neighboring Kinyambu market. “From that point, I have always been busy building houses,” he owned, before adding that he takes pride in that he has always handled the technical aspect of the projects, as opposed to the tedious part of mixing mortar, and serving the mason. According to Munyao Mutiso, a fellow mason, Clement is reliable fundi. “He is credited for erecting the only skyscraper in the region.”

Even amidst this glory, Clement is not a happy mason. The industry has not been rewarding enough. “When I started, the daily wage for fundi was some 150 shillings. Several years later, that amount is barely 600 shillings. With the escalating cost of living, it becomes impossible to lead a meaningful life,” he explained. However, that was just a tip of the iceberg. Clement has been tormented by the decision to quit college. 

During the conversation, Clement would reminisce on the good life he should be leading had he completed college. He believes that his good dreams are all shattered. For countless times, he kept recalling how he got to college miraculously. He had not applied to join college for he believed that his parents would be unable to afford his education. When he graduated from Matuu Memorial with a B minus in the Kenya Certificate of Secondary Education, he still did not believe he could attend college. 

But thanks to a well-wishers, a Mr. Njenga Kirika and Father Mbinda, Clement found himself at Egerton University.  His admission number S43/592/92 is confirmation enough that Clement was the 592^nd student in the registers of Egerton University. From his transcripts, his performance was exemplary. At that rate, the least he would graduate with would have been a Second Class upper division. 

Interestingly, Clement’s dreams of going to back college are vibrant more than ever. His concern, however, is whether Egerton University can readmit him and if not so whether he can get a sponsor. “Presently, it would hard for me to raise fees since I am supporting my family especially in education and food,” he confided. Two of his children are in secondary school. 

“But suppose you go back to college, would you continue with physics, chemistry and biology?” I wanted to know.  

“No. I would pursue Computer Architecture,” he owned, before explaining that computer architecture is concerned with designing computer systems. He owned that he reads various texts on computing in anticipation for his return to university. 

Incase everything fails, Clement is ready to move on, but a sad man. “I would continue with my life. At least I would struggle to ensure that each of my two sons and three daughters go to university.”