And we think we know it all...

The initiation of the native soul to its purpose.

On the 23 of August 2004 I left my native land supported by an ancestral calling and guidance and set off on my journey to demonstrate to the world the rights of the minority natives plight and call on the same world to support in the liberation of all humankind.

All that I carried with me was a spear of peace, a kibuyu (gourd), and a rungu (short stick). The spear was not a weapon but an important object of ritual in the tradition I had came from. The kibuyu was to be my stomach, a vessel from the pumpkin family it would be used for my health and food, this would be my sustenance for the journey. My rungu had been in the family for fourteen generations, passed down from father to the child of his choosing when the time was right. It had chosen me and was a connection to my lineage. The rungu would also be my safety and a constant reminder of self-restraint for its power came from not using it.

I also wore a small animal skin bag, ofuko, from the Nyayiekka age-set. Each age-set has its own name and objects that are unique to those initiated together. The ofuko is a symbol of an age-set’s skin as the sacrificial cow from which it comes is eaten by all thus uniting and becoming part of each. I chose to wear the lau (traditional clothing), the particular colouring and patterns being of the Ugolwe. The particular combination of the lau also represented the Marsai and our place and role in traditional society. To the Ugolwe, seeing me dressed this way places me in my cultural context even though the practice is not so common anymore. There are only nine in the world that can dress as me, who can talk about our initiation. This is my crown which I wear with honour.

Importantly, I chose not to carry a paper passport. Those things I had with me were to be my identification, the symbol of my journey as a minority person. By walking I was living my responsibility as Marsai and so honouring my ancestors and myself. I have a purpose that is unique to me. It is one that is in the service of others and not about trampling on the purpose of another. The human spirit would be my passport and, importantly, I carried with me my unique fingerprint, the only one in seven billion, as the ultimate document and physical proof that I am me.

The intention that I was setting off with from the beginning was very clear. That walking was the best way to show the potential for a peaceful coexistence, the spirit that is evoked in communities and individuals when walking. When one is able to take a step towards another person’s house, whatever time it may be, it is a gesture towards learning and understanding, towards touching the best that is in people.

The kind human had ceased to be, he was now beating himself and others endlessly. Using my life’s history and interest to learn, I decided to walk and confirm that I am a native of the land and freedom of movement of the native, minority people should not be taken away from them.

I was not walking sponsored by corporates or governed by a formalized schedule where everything was prearranged. I had moved away from this way of thinking. My goal was to open up that human kindness and demonstrate that this is alive in the people by making them the ones who would support and make successful this journey. There was clarity in my intention for the journey, my destination, but I had no idea of the details of what would happen in between. How I would be fed, where I would find shelter, the people and experiences I would meet, the land and my ancestors would take care of that.

This was a journey to do away with the passbook. Bring down the divisive borders. Through borders wars have been fought, blood has been shed, cultures have been killed, poverty has been entrenched, and values forsaken. People have been reduced to objects of the machine, property of the state. How can one be a foreigner as a citizen of the earth?

The timing was not insignificant either. Coinciding with the end of the 100-year Anglo-Maasai Agreement which removed the Maasai from their ancestral lands, and following the violent response to our protests, the journey was necessary now. Its time had come, it was ripe. The world should know about such things and I was inviting it to witness the killing of an indigenous native way of understanding freedom.

The history behind the agreement, what it meant to the Maasai way of life, is rooted in the bigger project of European colonial expansion. The Maasai were seen as obstacles to the establishment of settler colonies. Myths and tales around the mysterious, “primitive” and “savage” warrior-people travelled back to Europe and came to be accepted as fact. Sir Charles Eliot was one of the voices that advocated for the end of the indigenous cultures.

"There can be no doubt that the Maasai and other tribes must go under. It is a prospect that I view with equanimity and clear conscience . . . I wish to protect individual Maasai . . . but I have no desire to protect Maasaidom. It is a beastly, bloody system, founded on raiding and immorality, disastrous both to the Maasai and their neighbors. The sooner it disappears and is unknown, except in books of anthropology, the better."

The foreign powers had designs on land and so processes were set in motion. There was little genuine understanding of the indigenous cultures and so the many myths made actions justifiable in the minds of those doing them. Such agreements were not ones between equals, it was a case of divide and rule where even within the affected indigenous communities it was about choosing sides. The treaties and agreements were worded in such a way as they seemed to have been initiated by the indigenous people themselves, and yet these documents were signed documents with fingerprints. One was either with or against this oppressive machinery, killing in its service or being the ones cut down.

Confined to smaller, less suitable tracts of land and being denied the right to move their large herds, key to their way of life and its success, had a number of negative impacts on the Maasai. They are not alone in this story, sharing a fate with many ethnic minorities across the continent and even the world.

I was on my way to Cape Town, a meeting place for the earth’s people where I would officially launch the mission to the world. Its cosmopolitan nature attracted me, the belief that the diversity of voices and the infrastructure, material and social, that supported the decision. This was a country with a troubled past and so was fertile ground for understanding the mission. The choice to walk to the native Khoisan peoples’ land was not insignificant. It had recently emerged from apartheid and was the lastborn on the continent and, while many times the lastborn is often spoilt, sometimes it is the one to save the house.

I believed it had the energy, the vibrancy of post-Independence Kenya, which was there into the 1980s but which has been lost by those who have been charged with maintaining it. Some of my friends also left for other countries to help in many different ways to have the land issue exposed to the world and confirm the civility of the twenty-first century human being/ape!

Tanzania was one of the first places where I would witness the challenge and affirmation of my faith in my mission. I had walked for close to four weeks and everything was working in a manner conducive to introduce me to the journey that I had undertaken. I was coming to terms with my choice and very much meditating on its feasibility and logical prudence. I could now see the relevance of the sky and what a permanent roof it was. The land was my bed and home providing comfort and different insect bites to clarify to me what I was getting into.

This time really changed the journey for me. The easy way would have been to turn back. I was also walking in the mind, assessing the choices I had made. This was a time of reckoning as I could use any excuse, I was still close to home. I was looking at the people that I was representing, the values of my culture and the ancestral guidance.

In the dawn hours, with the morning freshness, I could walk big distances easily in the hope that I would get somewhere and meet people, many of whom I could talk to in Swahili. It was pretty much of an adventurous beginning until I was not able to get food or see people for four consecutive days. I could not believe it was possible to walk for so long before seeing a human being! Had someone told me I would not have believed them, for sure this could not be?

On the fourth day I was beaten by exhaustion but managed to walk for quite a distance before suddenly starting to sense, smell that human beings were near. The area I was in was one of vast open spaces, savannah grassland with scattered trees and rolling hills. I had followed the railway for some time as it weaved its way across a landscape free of two-legged life forms. My excitement returned when I noticed a thin column of grey smoke climbing to the sky, it was a distance but to me it seemed to be as near as a neighbour’s place.

I walked towards it, not diverting much from my thought direction, and even if it was obtuse, nothing mattered besides this feeling of seeing another human being. I was able to confirm that I was in a human occupied world, not just an illusion made up by the media and professionals for television, that there was life in the beyond. I could see people but did not meet anybody as they all saw me from a far and could divert from the path I was walking. I came to understand that my presence had brought fear and they were avoiding me.

I eventually arrived in a homestead that was the centre of celebration of a ritual that had just been performed and to my amazement there ware not so many people. The few I had seen scattered in many directions, except for two men who were evidently elders. They stayed intact and continued to drink their beer from the pot using long straws seeming very much relaxed and content. As I was still thinking of whether to walk towards these elders a group of young warriors, armed with rungus and spears approached and stopped me, demanding my own. I obliged and handed them over in peace.

My expectations of a warm welcome, of the connection that was possible here, and the belief that I would be able to explain my position to the elders as I had done many times before, was buzzing inside of me. I had believed everyone in Tanzania was able to understand Swahili and was beaten by this ignorance and awareness that I was not all knowing. In the system’s eye I was educated but yet I knew nothing! It was a moment of complete surrender. My fear of the unknown was crushed in that moment.

There are places in Tanzania where people don’t know Swahili’s other dialects. Swahili in Nairobi is different from that of Dar es Salaam and the further I walked from the big cities the dialects changed introducing me to a core and then out again into another one. The journey to my inner core was established at this point and never have I looked back from the blessings of this moment.

The warriors escorted me to the two elders sitting by the wall of a hut that was one of three others to the side of the central house. They did not pay much attention and my thought was that they were too drunk to be in any panic or fear of this man standing before them. How could they have none of the surprise that greeted me over the last month? It was like standing in front of a drunk Pontius Pilate. One of the mzee (elder) mumbled something and in that moment another core in me was being opened for my consumption and initiation. I had imposed my vision on this situation and nothing was happening the way I expected. I had to cross a line and choose between running towards fear or fully living my choice. It was an initiation.

They escorted me to one of the huts, next to one that was used as a sleeping place for the youth. This was to be my prison for three heavy days of cleansing and awakening to the blessings and presence of the ancestral guidance to the ultimate home of my destiny and purpose. This was a physical prison but I was facing my own internal prison, myself. This was really when the journey began, the full freeing and establishment of the self and my full acceptance of it.

It was the turning point where I was fully at the mercy of my intentions. The waves of fear that washed over me during my incarceration and the reality of unfulfilled expectation brought me important lessons and clarified the face of the journey.

I was in a small round hut with thick, earthy walls and floors that were cool to the touch. It was dark as night inside and my only connection to the outside world was a small hole, my window. It linked me to the companionship that was the laughter of the children playing outside. They would jostle for space where they could peak in at this foreign creature that was now in their home.

People could be brought in at any time to come and see me, a man who they didn’t understand completely and a person who I learnt was suspected as a spy. My arrival at this particular time added to my situation, I had presented myself during a significant ritual for these minority people, one that was illegal according to the external, unnatural laws of the land. To them, and other nations such as the Bukusu, in a time of need a creation of God must be sacrificed, blood shed, and certain herbs used to spiritually connect with the ancestors. This is an appeal for help and guidance as well as to continue good standing with them. The ancestors are the guardians of the living, able to bring good fortune to those deserving but also bestowed with the power to visit suffering and misfortune on those who lose good favour. They are central to the native’s spiritual and religious life.

A child from the village had been chosen as the sacrificial lamb for the salvation of the community. A particular family would have their lineage associated with drought, disease, or some other affliction. Facing such a reality would require a sacrifice from that family to appease and to end the suffering. This was not an everyday ritual and performing it was not something light or careless, it was one life given to save many. Bloodshed here is divine. This life was honoured for its role in giving life to the rest. His or her name would be given to others in remembrance of the ultimate sacrifice.

Is there any birth without bloodshed?

To the so-called modern man this practice is abominable, going against every grain of his understanding of the concept of human rights. And yet he is unconscious of the fact that much of the material things he relies on in daily life, takes for granted, are the result of endless bloodshed that is meaningless. Very often it is the blood of such minorities, spilled in the name of possessions and greed. This time round it was not drought or any such traditional reasons that necessitated such a heavy ritual – now performed in secret for fear of prosecution by the authorities – instead it was the lack of jobs. The pursuit of a modern lifestyle had now become the root of this particular bloodshed within the native culture that was struggling to find acceptance inside the foreign design behind the laws of the land.

My incarceration lasted three days and nights. The fourth day, a Saturday, sounded like the epitome of this celebration of life. It was the conclusion of their ritual process as well as my own personal one. Interesting how these two separate journeys around life were brought together at this moment, how both rituals were now coming to conclusion simultaneously.

Some people had been to see this strange man during this time but now I heard many approaching. I had not been able to see what was being performed on the outside, I could only listen and wonder. The doors were opened and the morning light shone in on most of the inside of my room. My dark corner found it very much hopeful and full of lightness and peace.

A man, Shebby, would make his way inside followed by the elders, women and youths. There was suddenly a similar number of people in the house as the first day, the only difference being the energy here now was very much relaxed and connecting. The deliberation amongst the community on what to do with me and my own internal deliberation were concluding. Our ancestors had guided us to this point.

“Habari Maasai, wame shika wewe leo?” (Hello Maasai, today they have caught you)

I could not believe my composure and mood at that moment, I had thought that I was supposed to jump up and celebrate my liberation. We continued talking and the most beautiful part of that point was someone was here who understood my cultural nation. I also made him aware of the intentions of my journey. That is when he started vividly remembering that he had read something about a man walking through Bongo on his way down to Cape Town, our journey together had started before now. He was meant to be a part of this mission, as the one who had sponsored the ritual, just like his community. We became instant friends, sharing a common language and uniting humanity, a reality worthy of a celebration.

We shared much during that morning and I was tempted to spend another night in this mood. I had not learned much about these people’s way of life as I was imprisoned all during my stay here. Now that I was free I wanted to move, though not having decided on a particular direction, and this urge to continue in me grew more and more.

I was taken to the elders where we said comfortable goodbyes. The ritual was moving towards its conclusion. The time of leaving came and Christopher, introduced to me by Shebby, and some comrades walked me for a distance before coming to the point of decision. All this time I was going through my mind’s game and fears. I was wanting to open past pain and use it as way out of facing my responsibility. While in the hut I had decided that I was going back home, I would find another strategy to bring to the world’s attention to the plight of the minority, indigenous, native, nomadic, nations whose freedom of movement had been taken away from them through ignorance about and fear of another’s way. The fear of learning something different from what you know, of being accommodating of others and accepting the diversity that we have which is ultimately the life source of humankind’s strength.

To one side was the direction I had come from, home, to the other was a new world and my intention for the journey, a new home. This was the moment of reckoning, it had waited until now. I was only six hundred meters from where I had entered the village when a question was asked from within and with so much confidence and clarity.

“Have you Eaten?”

I was being fed every day, with different types of food. To this day I have opened and improved on my diet and whatever beliefs I had as a Marsai about what should or should not be eaten was gone. I suspect I have even eaten the flesh of a human being. Whatever another is eating I believe that I am being guided at that moment to share in this ritual space, in its truth, and I do it freely. Everything I am given or offered I eat. I would prefer what I am used to but if it is not there I freely accept what is offered.

“Have you rested and how is your body feeling?”

I had rested physically, though not mentally. My muscles were fresh and relaxed and ready for the journey whichever direction I was to take after this experience.

“Have you seen others and had companionship?”

I had been in the presence of other human beings of minority ancestry who still had the values of humanity intact within them. I had the privilege of listening to children play and giggle from outside my prison. They would come and peep through the only hole in the hut at me. I heard them scrambling over each other, laughing and running in excitement with me. They had witnessed a kind of person or animal that they had never seen before anywhere.

“Have you been hurt or lost anything that you hold dear or believe to be?”

I was well and nothing of mine had been taken away from me. All that I came with was returned.

What were the reasons for me to even think of going back, apart from simply confirming and accepting the triumph of FEAR? My intentions for the journey, the breaking down of barriers toward connecting with others in the sharing of diversity, was happening. That was what I had been brought into the situation to affirm, the truth of my journey and mission.

These people did not know about the Maasai, our demonstration or the violent response that had triggered this mission. This was the turning point when I released from all of these external definitions, the ones I had also chosen to wear. It was the point that I realized that this mission was mine and mine alone. The first four weeks was the initiation of getting back into my being. These four days were the awakening of my awareness of connection to myself and how this understanding then connected me to everything else. I was not the centre of the universe and nor were my ideas. I was just another being in the world. I had awoken to the true meaning of my mission, a walk for the ultimate minority – the self.

The betrayal of trust, is the start of Divorce and marriage to the goal.

The day of Oduo’s hearing at the college came and Queen accompanied him to Wagai. It was a happy day for Oduo, finally his parent would be visible to the college and be seen to care about him. Neither Queen nor Buda had visited until now and Oduo made full use of this moment to make both parents feel guilty in the hope of them becoming more involved in his education from here on. It was good to have Queen there as she was more understanding of her son.

He appeared before a committee made up of the rector, principals, lecturers as well as the dormitory housekeeper. It was a formal affair, as per the culture of the college and such institutions, and took place in the boardroom of the staff area. The whole time Queen sat next to her son while he answered questions and explained himself. Respect was restored and Oduo was accepted back to continue with his studies. It was a good result for him as he could not see any justification for his suspension.

In high school Oduo had enjoyed relative freedom, he was not policed by teachers or rules as every individual had to make his choices and take responsibility for his own intentions with education. The transition to college was a difficult one as the institution was a boarding system and every individual was bound by the body of rules and a rigid code of conduct that influenced every aspect of life from when one ate, slept, worked, and so on. Maybe those who had come from boarding school, those that Oduo had always hoped to attend, found it easier.

Students attending such colleges were seen as the chosen ones, they were the future of the nation. It was a time of community service where students would be exposed to and do voluntary work in areas they aspired to as part of coming to understand their future roles. Ultimately however, it was about being groomed, learning how to serve the system. Individuality was suppressed and people were pigeonholed according to their chosen vocation. One had to start fitting into what were the perceived characteristics needed to be a part of a certain profession. This did not sit well with Oduo as he had grown used to making his own choices and being responsible for his actions.

He knew why he was at the college which was simply to progress to university even though he did not know then what it was he was going to study. He aspired to attend university because, at the time, it was the right thing to do. It would guard was down and they were not donning their social masks. A beggar on the street could be as worthy a teacher as the most learned professor.

It was the same with religion. Oduo understood while growing up that if he played the game, even if only superficially, he would be rewarded. Ugolwe was an area that had seen a lot of missionary activity in the late 1800s, the result being that many of the Ugolwe were Catholic. It was one of the churches that did not make much fuss about who the individual was or what they kept themselves busy with as long as they were faithful followers and spread the word. Dana Dom was herself a strong believer and had raised her family in that way.

The church was a social space and facilitated the coming together of different ethnic groups under one banner. Many mixed cultural families were started in this Catholic Church. The young people also used the church as a meeting place where they could socialize while keeping their parents happy that they were performing the duties of the faithful. The diversity was interesting for the youth who gained much from their interactions there.

Buda was not the most devout believer but nonetheless chose to raise his family in the Catholic way. The affluence of the church appealed to him, it was status, the decadence of the church and its rituals, the use of Latin. Oduo’s sisters even went to Catholic schools. The church was effective in colonial times when Christianity was imposed after the indigenous belief systems were slowly undermined, beginning with the removal of land which was key to the body of native religions. People were now lost in their spirituality and looking for a place to hang their faith. The Catholic Church was open for business.

This is how religion came to play a role in Oduo’s early life. Church was a place where he played the role of dutiful follower so that he could gain the freedom to mix and socialize in the way he wanted. Amongst the church community, and even his parents, he saw the cracks of contradiction in what was said and done in church and how people lived their lives outside. Oduo admired the strategy of the church, how it was able to capture an audience and hold them. It was a good business. He too became good at performing the material rituals while having little of the faith meant to go with them.

To this day I feel that education without reason is a dangerous thing. People chase paper now rather than knowledge. This is a futile process and fuels a system where people commodify learning and then become commodities themselves, to be bought and sold in the marketplace of workers and jobs. It is the same with faith when it is for appearances only, when people are counted by their performance of the rituals rather how they live the values of faith.

Education and faith are two powerful things but only if they are pursued as ends in themselves, when their understanding becomes different then the values implicit are tarnished and they are open to abuse. If learning or faith is born from authority, force or coercion, even seduction – in the way that students or the faithful are lured into learning and believing, rather than have them willingly take part – can it still be called education or religious belief? Does it not then become something of a different sort?

The events leading to Oduo’s suspension – sneaking out of the college grounds one night to go drinking in the local community – had led to rumours being spread about his activities. When brought before the council he had refused to accept their sentence or punishment. He had challenged the whole process and to the college he must be part of something untoward. Mwakenya, it had to be. Drinking “illegal brew” made by a community “taking the law into their own hands” by making it and then “refusing to acknowledge his guilt”. Added to the existing allegations now was the tag of belonging to a banned political organisation. 

The Mwakenya Movement, or New Nation, was an organization borne out of civic concern.  It did not find its beginning in a constitution drawn up by founding members around a cause, no, it grew organically from the people and was taken up, defined and practiced it in their own way. This was a home for different thoughts and opinions, free thinkers and attracted a diversity of people. Those belonging to the organization were judged to be operating outside of the norms when all they were after was the chance to express their views and practice life in a self-defined way. It was perceived negatively and taken to be in opposition to the status quo, a threat.

Mwakenya was something that really resonated with Oduo. It was a minority group and very much resonated with his life. It was also good for him in the sense that he did come to see that he was not completely alone, being misunderstood as he always was. The label Mwakenya became an easy label to brand those that were seen to be going against the norm. Rather than being understood, like many minorities, Mwakenya was a societal scapegoat used to brand things that were disliked or even despised. If someone was taking or selling drugs, doing crime, then it was because they were Mwakenya.

It was not long after Dana Dom’s funeral when Buda was given the golden handshake. Retrenchment during those times was known within the working class circles as the kiss of betrayal, alluding to the fact that there were often motives beyond company fiscal prudence. The government had in 1994 accepted the IMF conditions and betrayed its own people.

This had the effect of dividing many families, many of those who were retrenched died of stress and many more resorted to crime. These families had come to rely on these salaries, they were now entrenched in the monetary system and the loss of income, being cut off like this, had serious consequences. Original ways of life had been forsaken and now such families could not even return to their rural homelands to pick up where they had left off.

Buda’s family was very much affected and came to be divided along the lines of investment and trust. You see, there was no preparation by the government to help those people who were made redundant, no advice on how to invest the money that they were being given. It disempowered the people to have this lump sum as once the money was gone so had their self-esteem and they were left poorer. The amount seemed like a lot in the moment but there would be nothing to replace it. Such families also became targets of those eager to get their hands on a piece of this pie, be they family members or scam artists. This is similar to what self-proclaimed leaders within this, our democratic voting system, do when they opt to give handouts to the youth before elections in order to buy their votes.

Buda identified the matatu taxi business as the most appropriate investment for this money. As a proud man, he wanted to be remembered as the first person from his Ugolwe clan to own a taxi business. While he was still deciding on how to get his vision started he put the lump sum into treasury bonds, a wise step that ensured he at least got interest every month.

Buda and Queen could not come to an understanding of how they were going to jump-start the family business. Queen’s brother was a well-established hustler in Nairobi and was knowledgeable of dealings to do with automobile sales. In Queen’s mind, and logically so, there was no doubt that Oware was going to help them acquire a good deal. He was family and had even lived with them in the capital. This thought was not to be though, instead what actually came to be, culminated in deep divisions within the family. Further, it was the very strong start of the end to the journey Queen and Buda had shared together.

                              

A real family eats the same cornmeal.

Queen was stung by a feeling of betrayal when Buda decided, by himself, to approach a person he did not even know, just by virtue of sharing a mother tongue. Again, Buda took matters into his hands and had fallen into the trap of placing trust in tribe rather than his own kin. Despite being disconnected from the cultures it is often the most westernised that resort to cultural solutions, this was so in the way that Buda had chosen a stranger as his confidante. The family learned after a long time that Buda had been conned of his retrenchment payout. During this wait there had been much talk and excitement about this future business opportunity and what it would mean to them. Although Buda had the best of intentions, his wish to surprise the family, especially his Queen, had backfired with serious consequences.

This was a devastating situation and a family meeting was held, at the insistence of Oduo, to discuss the way out of the crisis. They sat together in the sitting room, Buda in his chair, Queen in hers while the children were scattered about on the couches and floor. The tension was heavy in the room that evening. Oduo, acting as a master of ceremony, did much of the talking. Both parents were mostly silent, listening as he and his siblings raised their thoughts and concerns.

Family meetings were not norm and so Oduo was exposing them all to new territory. In reality though, he was performing his ancestral role as Marsai. Always curious, he wanted to confirm his thoughts and so played devil’s advocate. He suggested that the family should relocate to the ancestral home in rural Ugolwe. Instantly, if only temporarily, he created enemies with the entire family except for Buda, who was for the idea of moving.

This was a family that had grown in and was used to city life. The children had been brought up in a mixed cultural family set up. They had also grown used to living in an estate that was very cosmopolitan. Oduo and the siblings could not even talk their mother tongues. It is sad to think that not being able to talk one’s ethnic language was taken to be the mark of the developed and an instant qualification to moving with times. Apart from Oduo and his brother, the other children had been born and bred in the city.

While Oduo knew that Buda’s choices had put them in this position, his suggestion came from an understanding of the situation his family was now facing and he did not want his father to become the villain. He was doing this as someone who had already been given many of the details about what had transpired. Queen was very open about the family affairs with her son, they had shared a lot together and in this they were best friends. Buda’s thought on the other hand, were a mystery to everyone as he had not been open about his feeling or the actions that had brought the family to this point.

Buda was for Oduo’s suggestion even though it was a new idea to him. His main worry now was that he would be financially dependent on Queen, who still had employment, but had lost her trust in his choices. The house the family rented and lived in was expensive to maintain and afford. They would have to get a cheaper place. The reasoning of Oduo was that within a short time there would not be enough money to continue paying rent and thus the earlier they left for the ancestral lands, the better for the family. The meeting ended in a stalemate with two divided parties. By voting Oduo and his father were in the minority. This was a mission that they could not win as even they had doubts and had not won a full understanding within themselves. Neither truly believed their suggestions was best for the family.

For Buda, this option was more about salvaging lost pride, in the rural areas he could go back to teaching and start to build himself up again. This would not be enough to support the family though. The power of a woman was again evident here when Queen, who had also established herself as a strong fighter for justice, managed to get working accommodation at the institution that she was employed at. As chairlady and head of housekeeping at the Kenyatta University Co-operative Society, this had always been her right but she had not needed to make use of this until now. Again in this family lineage the matriarchal spirit would show itself, providing for the family in a time of difficulty.

Buda returned to Ugolwe to teach while the rest moved in with Queen. This was to be the last meeting and moment that the family would see Buda “alive”. When Buda moved back to Ugolwe it was a decision by both parties that the marriage was over. They did not follow the process of filing for separation, both parties knew that what they had was no more and so no piece of paper could say anything further. Buda and Queen were divorced.

satisfy his parents and society in general in a way that would allow him the freedom to be different and learn in his own way. Accommodating the system was something he had learned to do well, if he wanted to he could fit in better than the rest.

At Wagai Oduo was met with a real personal challenge. Peer pressure at the college was a big factor in young people’s lives. It was important to wear good clothes, brand labels, which many sought out at any cost just so they could fit in. This is a phase of life where young people search for individual identity as they enter early adulthood, and things at the college were no different. Ironically though, the search for identity often had the opposite effect with people conforming to the perceived norm and suppressing the self so as to gain favour and popularity, status.

He never really felt like he belonged anywhere but at college he felt the need and pressure to become part of the bigger group. Most of his peers puzzled him, to him they were the future leaders of the country, the ones who would determine its direction, so why could he not see what the others were seeing? He felt that there was something wrong with him. Why could he not understand? He might see someone get a bursary to study and then drink it away in celebration and buying expensive clothes.

He wanted to belong while feeling alien. The clothing and popular behaviour did nothing to make Oduo feel a part of the bigger whole and then he discovered drinking. Before college he had very little experience of alcohol but at Wagai he came to be a devout follower. Here was something that made him feel he could fit in. When drunk he could easily talk to people and make friends. Being called mad in Tanzania, during Buda’s to visit the inyanga, had affected him and he accepted it, though never believing, and the drink now was his attempt to fit into the so called sane society. In the bottle, Oduo had found a friend, one that would walk a long road with him, one who welcomed him with open arms and suspended judgement.

The result of certificates and degrees was of little importance to Oduo, others were free to chase these papers but for him learning was the end goal and not the promise of status and jobs. Sure, he was learning in lectures and seminars but learning was to be had everywhere, in the streets and bars, high pubic offices, student meetings and ganja dens. He mixed freely and with anyone no matter what their place in society was. This progression, each level he reached, he better understood the way things worked. The real education of Oduo was happening in the university of life, by watching people being themselves when there! 

The power that resides in the spirit of a woman.

CHAPTER 4

I later lost touch with Buda and the family as I went back to my studies. Wagai was not so much a town as a junction of roads coming from Kodiaga going to Siyaya, the biggest town in the district and the other to college. It was deep inside the rural places set in amongst the hills and the surrounding village. There were few who had power and the houses were a mix of brick and mortar while others were traditionally made with mud thatched houses. It was a growth centre as it was a rural centre that had been given a boost by the fact that people were coming here from around the country to learn.

It was during this time Dana Dom passed on. Oduo, who was he favourite, had promised his grandmother, when she was still alive, that he could never bare seeing her dead and unmoving body. Their bond was strong. In some ways they were lovers, for their connection was of that deepest kind. Traditionally, grandmothers are taken to be wives to their grandsons. For Oduo, to see his beloved granny in that way would have been too much for him. The power of the word must never be underestimated.

I remember the beautiful, good old days when Oduo and his friend Mwallo, who was killed in 2005 just a month after retuning home to pay a visit to his family while in exile from South Africa, were running a tailoring business together in Nairobi. They had been together all through the last years of primary school before Mwallo had gone away to one of the country’s top boarding schools.

In school Ndiomo, Oduo’s nickname for his friend, was top. He was a true artist and later, many a young man in university managed to secure a lover through use of his works. As a bodybuilder, he was very athletic. This was a man who trusted and believed in himself. The journey of Ndiomo was a beautiful one and whomever he touched he left an impact, be it positive or negative. Ndiomo was an activist whose cartoons were satire. His art picked at life, interrogated it. He could not find a place for his work in Kenya, the system being unready for such a way of looking, and so he chose Cape Town.

Oduo and Ndiomo would tailor through the night to get money to be able to take Dana Dom to Nairobi hospital, one of the most well serviced, upmarket institution. This was four days in a week for six months while she dealt with what the doctors said was cancer. They would walk the streets, crossing the busy roads while holding the old woman’s hand, while contemplating the tailoring orders. They were still young and had just finished their high school. They shared a lot and accomplished so much together, even in this difficult time they were brothers.

Ten years later Ndiomo, Oduo’s nickname for Mwallo, died while he was doing a catch-up on the affairs of his community and people. He had to attend the many funerals that he had missed including his senior father, Mbuyu. HE had to pay homage to all his wives (grandmothers) and the Dayos (elders) also had to be consulted. He also had to link up with his home friends and mates as that is the nature and calling of a person who has been in exile.

They did say that he had malaria but in hospital he died in two weeks. He had been waiting for his long (systematically or intentionally) delayed passport renewal. After all this time was he still a threat? I met Ndiomo after nine years in Cape Town just after my arrival, few days later I was the last person to hug him on his way back to Kenya.

“Safari njema mfowethu.”

The last time Oduo saw Dana Dom physically, she handed him half of her last money. She had withdrawn all her savings from her post office account in Ugolwe. This was a signal that Oduo was seeing his granny for the last time. He was grateful for the money but did not see the bigger gesture that was happening, those subtle signs that life puts up for us to notice if we are willing or able. The doctors had said that the treatment was successful and she was recovering well. Her last words, as Oduo passed them on to me, still continue to echo in my heart. 

“I am now happy to be back to my home from the city. Here I can work and tend to my gardens and home.”

She was a hard working woman and just like in many native communities, where such souls are at home, she knew the worth of land, that the provider and determinant of life is land. Here there is an understanding of life, a knowing that a woman is mama. Mother. Mother Earth. Before Dana Dom started ailing she used to tend to her fields all year round, despite her age, for this is what she had grown with, what she knew. She was at peace here in a way that was not possible for her in the city.

They say a tongue can kill. Watch what you say with your mouth for it may just be. This is what happened on the day of Dana Dom’s funeral.

A few days before, Oduo’s favourite aunt and daughter of Dana Dom, Maggie, had gone from Ugolwe to Oduo’s college at Wagai to get permission for him to attend the funeral. Having been accepted to university, prospective students spent a year at a bridging college aimed at preparing them for tertiary study. The college was a difficult place for Oduo, there were strict rules and structure that directed the individual in a prescribed, even military way. She missed him the first time with the news that Dana Dom had finally been initiated to the ranks of the ancestors. This happened around two months after she had given him her savings.

Maggie knew that Oduo would make his own way home, with or without permission, so she did not care to go to the authorities to get information of the whereabouts of her nephew. The message never got to Oduo for he had been suspended for leaving the college grounds without authorisation and, more seriously, being accused of belonging to a banned political organization of the youth. He had refused to accept punishment as he claimed the charges were based on hearsay and brought against him after the event.

He had been told to report back with his parents after two weeks. Instead, he was basking in the glory of the local brew in the village’s drinking dens, arranging for someone to stand in as his guardian during the first hearing of his suspension. To Oduo it was a waste of time to travel to Nairobi and come back with his parents who were certainly busy in their own way. He could enjoy his suspension and one of his drinking partners would play along with the system at the hearing. It was for the good of himself as well as the good of his parents. The reasoning was that his parents could save the transport money and time, while he saved himself from their anger and frustration. To him, they had already fallen into the modern trap by transferring their child’s responsibility to others.

The family had expected Oduo’s arrival which, of course, did not come. This was cause for great concern, everyone knew of the very deep connection that Dana Dom had had with her grandson. On the day of the funeral Maggie, who understood this connection better than others, became concerned for her absent nephew and decided to go again to find him. By getting Oduo there she knew she would be honouring her mother.

Arriving in Wagai, she went looking from village to village but when she finally caught up with him the burial had already taken place. It was a difficult thing for Maggie and Oduo but this is the way it was meant to be. She had rushed from place to place, being directed by people who knew of or had just seen her nephew, missing him each time by seconds as he made his rounds.

Nonetheless, this was an opportunity for Oduo to grab. Going home and coming back with the parents would capitalize on the effects and pressures that the funeral had had on his parents. He knew that the parents would show appreciation and sympathy for the loss of his grandmother and the fact that he had missed her funeral. There was to be compassion for him in place of anger in regards to his suspended studies. Knowing the relationship he had with his grandmother he was to be the object of his parents rebounding love for Dana Dom. He saw in this how he could be reinstated in college with minimal fuss. Returning home, Oduo was welcomed like a king. He entered the home in a celebrity and show biz manner, making full use of the opportunity that was presented to him. Having come from a family of art, he knew how to play the part.

From an early age Oduo was a realist and though people thought he was insensitive, in truth he was very emotional when something touched his heart. He always pushed for understanding in any situation, even when it seemed irritating to others he would push to go deeper. Oduo was almost feared in his family as someone who was inward looking, a private and serious person who was difficult to read. There was a way about him that made some of his kin uneasy, with good reason. He took his time to weep and wail for his granny, deeply and with pure emotion, making sure that this audience became attentive to what he was saying.

The funeral was conducted in the main house of the homestead which was close to the river where the sugar cane was grown. Dana Dom was buried to the left of her house while her husband lay to its right. Inside the compound were also the three simbas (men’s houses) of the sons. A large tent made out of banana leave had been erected in the middle of the homestead where the guests were accommodated. The family was highly regarded in the community. The main house was the first to have a tin roof in the village. The family had pride and so they went to great expense. Many cows were slaughtered to both honour the passed matriarch as well as to feed the guests.

They had prepared everything for Oduo’s arrival, a place for him to wash, the particular food he was supposed to eat, as well as having ready all things necessary for him to perform the rituals that related to his place and role in traditional society. There were no cell phones then so when he appeared there was surge of activity in different groups hurried to make ready for him to perform his duties.

Oduo talked about the conflict within the families and the community while praising the woman who had now passed. He lamented the difficulties that Dana Dom had faced and how her passing was to affect the family. He brought up the inyanga and what it might have meant to them. Oduo was opening it up, laying it bare in front of the entire family. He was saying things that really meant something to him. Maybe no one was listening, or they thought these were the words of emotion, but he was unburdening himself. He was given the space to be comfortable in doing this.

While opening up these emotional places in himself he spoke his truth about what he saw was happening in the family and community. For him this was the time and place, the family was together to celebrate the matriarch and he was freed to speak his word. At such an event it was his right to claim this space. The firstborn son, first grandchild, the favourite, Oduo was allowed the freedom to speak where at another time it would not have been his place. He was the thing that had brought two families together, two different cultures, he was the beginning of something and the hope for the future. The first of a new generation, a boy, a son. A Marsai.

Oduo believed that Buda and three of his sisters managed to use her vulnerable health state to divert her from her Christian belief towards their leanings. Before her sickness she was a devoted Catholic who had survived a tough past of her late husband’s battering and alcohol abuse. In her sickness they took her to the inyanga against the wish of Buda’s sister, Kali.

There was more to this though, Oduo’s place within the family and community and their nervousness of him came from a deeper knowing of who, or what Oduo was, what he represented and how his being here was something that was beyond the flesh, that his birth carried significance and was engineered by the ancestors.

Oduo was named after Nyayiekka’s mother who had only borne two children, one of them a son. A name is not just given in native societies, it carries a significance that points to important things in the life of an individual and their community. Nyayiekka’s father was killed by a leopard in his sleep while still young. It was believed that this was engineered by someone with malicious intentions inside of a clan feud and was meant to change the course of the family. Leopards rarely attack people and the shy, solitary creatures certainly don’t make a habit of coming into homesteads in this way.

Nyarotaro, meaning woman of pride, was left with the hard work of raising two children with her husband’s people. As was custom, the bride price had been paid and the marriage had produced children and so she would stay with his family rather than returning to her own blood kin. She remained in an environment of division and in fighting. In many ways then, Buda’s family started with Nyarotaro, a matriarch. Traditionally, the family lineage is patriarchal but it was this woman who had allowed them all to come to this point. Significantly, Oduo was the first to be named after her, a reflection and honouring of this.

Nyarotaro’s son, Nyayiekka, was born a Marsai. Within the Maasai the birth of a Marsai is taken as a sign that great change is coming. This is a living spirit, one that is ancestral. It is sent to be born by those who have gone before and who, from their position as guardians of the living, can see the need for this presence at a given time.

Marsai means “to plead with”. This is the role that they are sent to perform. If a Marsai is been born in one’s house it is a time of great shifts. Whenever there are Marsai within the Maasai there is bound to be peace. While the Marsai have the power to bring peace their presence can also be the spark of war. Throughout history they have been targeted as it is better, for some, that they are not there.

As communicators and mediators they reflect truths, mirroring a people’s past and present by showing those things that may not want to be seen or heard. This has led to them being perceived as threats to the way things are, the status quo, and so they have often been targeted for murder. This is how it is remembered by the elders and told to the younger generations, just as it was passed down to them. In being given role of helping to show the truth of things they can unsettle societies where some are not wanting change, those who benefit from things staying the same. While few, the Marsai have always been there.

This was Nyayiekka’s fate. He was a heavy drinker and it did not have a good effect on him. When drunk he would become aggressive and would beat his wife, Dana Dom. It was made known to his family one morning that he had been killed after leaving one of his regular drinking dens. The place was far from where he lived and so it was assumed he was on his way home when he lost his life. The body was found with a number of nails hammered deep into the skull. Many stories about why this was done but the family never came to know the real reason for their father’s death, particularly as to why it happened in this way.

What spoke most strongly here was the method of murder. Whoever was responsible wanted to guarantee that this spirit was extinguished. Nyayiekka was the first Marsai in the house of Ugolwe which was significant. A minority clan, on the verge of extinction, regarded as insignificant, had now given rise to something of great importance to both Ugolwe and the Maasai. Other small clans in the Maasai may have decided to target Nyayiekka’s house, perhaps the truth was even closer to home as he had taken a wife from outside the Maasai in a time when this was frowned upon.

Despite being guided by the ancestors, the Marsai are often not safe in their homes and so live the lives of exiles. In the course of giving rise to a Marsai there is the need to protect him and the whole clan which is now potentially under threat. Perhaps this is why Nyayiekka had grown up in town and eventually went to work in the city. Was he being directed out of harm’s way?

Oduo followed his grandfather as the second Marsai to his people. His coming was different however. Nyayiekka was a Maasai from the Ugolwe while Dana Dom was a Luo. Their son, Buda, a mixture of these two Nilotic peoples, had also taken a wife outside of Ugolwe, Queen being of the Luhya, a tribe of the Bantu.

With Oduo, however, what would otherwise have separated was something that united. Despite their differences as Nilotes and Bantu, for both tribes Marsai means the same thing even though their languages are different. The role of the Marsai was also significant for both cultures, in each the role and function of a Marsai is the same. This meant that it was not just Ugolwe’s ancestral interventions that had guided Oduo’s birth but also those of the Luhya.

It is possible that the broader significance was lost on each family as they celebrated in their own way but this is why Oduo was the uniting force in the two families. Both had tried to pull the two young lovers, Buda and Queen, apart while they were in the process of coming together but when the Marsai came he was a strong uniting force despite continuing differences. This is why he was both held in esteem as well as being a source of unease, there was an understanding of what he represented. It was the same the day of Dana Dom’s funeral when he spoke many things that the families may not have wanted to hear.

The Ugolwe clan was also resentful as this son was not fully from the house of the clan. But this is the evolution of cultures and customs through time, not like the static ones people read about in books. This Marsai had significance outside of these two tribes, the nation, the continent, and the world.

The Marsai are not fighters, they are warriors but in communication. They are wordsmiths and initiated in this way. Part of what they are sent to do is preserve the cultures and values of the community.

According to the confusion of the time, the effects of colonialism and an alien way of thinking, a boy was taken to have greater value. As the first grandchild, a male, Oduo was a symbol of hope for the future of the family. He was the beginning of a new generation, a point of unity for the two cultures, but he was also a matriarchal one.

Perhaps then, this matriarchal spirit had to be put in a man, a Marsai. In a woman it would not have been the same as the understanding would have been different. Oduo followed on from Nyarotaro and Dana Dom who had held the Ugolwe lineage together in the absence of their men. He also inhered the strength of Queen and her Luhya people.

Stereotyped thinking and ego have taken over in many parts of the world. Traditional understandings of the roles of men and women and their collective importance have and continue to be undermined. Life now is a case of gender roles, the separation of men and women, the masculine and feminine, when before each was seen as part of a greater whole, admired for his or her unique ability and contribution. This change has fundamentally undermined society as a whole. But to Oduo a woman was a sacred being, it did not matter who or what they were as they all represented the same thing, Mama.

Significant also was the fact that here, for the first time, Oduo was to win the favour of a young woman, getting him excited at the thought of having an opportunity and the challenge to break her virginity. This was every young man’s dream during those days, the youth were always excited by this thought. This was not to be though, as they never got any privacy. All the time they thought they were almost there, going into the sugar cane plantation by the river, only to find out that another couple had beaten them there.

The young girl was from Maggie’s family of marriage and was born to a woman who had wed the brother of Maggie’s husband. She was born before this union, out of wedlock, and so had grown up with her mother’s people. Custom dictated that if a child were born outside of marriage they would be the responsibility of the matriarchal family. This girl was visiting with her mother and that is how she came to be at the funeral.

The two never got to have their moment of intimacy. Maybe it was the ancestors that conspired to keep this from following through with their awkward plans, the outcome could have changed the course of things. This was their secret and they were both scared of being found out which made the project even more of a failure. This was a time for mourning and what they were trying to do went against the mood of the people. This is a story that Oduo always played down whenever he was ridiculed for not standing up to the expectations of a youth’s pride and the power of a man. The funeral would be his excuse for why he had never gone through with it but the truth was much deeper.

While Buda was still warden at the Kenya Power Training School he was uncompromising when it came to what he believed was the best for his children’s education. The rule was that when those who were attending school returned home at four pm they were allowed a break for an hour before sitting down for homework before dinner at six. Oduo, In his last year of primary school, was fourteen years old, and would sneak out of the house and take a taxi to town during this hour.

This was a ritual which he repeated two or three times a week. Here he would visit Karumaindo, a notorious twenty-four hour bar in the centre of Nairobi that was the place for a cross section of society, businessmen, spies, travellers, criminals, revellers, courtesans and many more.

Inside a big building right in the centre of Nairobi, opposite the 20^th Century Cinema and the Florida Hotel and Restaurant, it was a real den. Karumaindo was always full and as one was going up the stairs of the first floor there would be people of all persuasions in various states of pleasure.

The place was filthy most of the time and navigating the different rooms one would find some with tables and sitting spaces, a jukebox, life happening in different pockets. Down one of the corridors leading to the toilets is where the working girls would line up in search of customers. There was no discrimination at Karumaindo, if one had money in hand but no clothes on the back: “Karibu!” (Be welcome).

Oduo was tall, even at such a young age, his height and natural particulars was his licence and he would enter Karumaindo and immediately look for an unoccupied beer bottle. Taking it, he would smear his mouth with beer and pretend to stagger around as if drunk. Making his way through the revellers he would move directly toward the corridor to the toilets and those woman of the night. Most would just be arriving in the bar to begin work, sober and fresh. He would bump into his chosen target, touching her to his pleasure, while putting the beer to her lips to appease her.

Beer was expensive and a young man who had it was either from a rich family or a criminal. But Oduo was harmless and these women would play along. He would have his fill with as many women as he wanted before leaving the beer with the last woman and going home. Curiosity was his motive, a teenage body waking up to certain drives, but these interactions went past pleasure and forever changed something in him.

It made him see a woman as more than her physical body, an object of sex. He came to really see the person inside. His greatest teachers were women who were living in the best way they knew how, maybe having been dealt with harshly by life such that they had taken difficult choices. Society looked down on them, labelled them a scourge, tramps, but free of these labels, Oduo came to see they were just like anyone else. 

Abandoning our ancestral ways eventually leads to our down fall.

It was while working at the Kenya Power and Lighting Company that Buda once invited me to join him on a journey to visit a medicine man, an inyanga (healer), in Tanzania. This troubled me at first, as I did not really believe in inyangas who asked for money as this one did. I knew that only one’s faith had the potential to heal any troubled soul. After all, I had been exposed to the use of herbs that always worked for me, these were things to which I had become accustomed.

In my years I had seen some of the most sincere inyangas, healers that had never asked money as payment. They left it to one’s decision and appreciation of the weight of the problem that one was experiencing as well as the result of the inyanga’s intervention.

The logic here was not a monetary one, it centered around a deep and mutual respect for life. Those consulting and the healer understood the importance in this interaction and exchange, what was at stake here was life itself. As far as payment was concerned the arrangement was a much more organic one, it was a case of life for life. Payment was made through animals, seeds, and such things, all with the power of life. Money has changed this, and necessarily so, as it is a lifeless, even empty, thing that assigns an arbitrarily defined value on all things, food, health, and even life.

Buda, in taking this decision went completely against the social grain. He had no right, even as the first born, to consult an inyanga on behalf of his family without first having conferred with the elders and family members, receiving their blessing. The fact that Buda had taken this upon himself was the beginning of a downward spiral. It would be said later that he, his choices and their results, had brought about the troubles that would befall his house.

Yet this was a step that did not just happen, it was one link in a long chain. He had been suffering for some time. It is likely that he had consulted, in private, a chosen few in a way he believed to be for the best, even if this was to the exclusion of his family, the ones who mattered most. His mind had settled on an inyanga as the solution to his problems.

The choice was an expensive one that only added to his belief in the potential for healing – the logic that says the more money the more effective the service. The fact that the consultation was to happen in a different country, in a place of things strange and foreign, meant that it had to work. That Buda did not make this decision inside of family was really a sign that this was a man’s last-ditch attempt to have things put right. Many people the world over, in their desperation, fall into traps such as these – the promise of something being more alluring than the hard choices we know will bring us to ease.

Buda and I were partners at the time in Nairobi in a tailoring business making women’s petticoats. I was by then supporting the schooling of my two sisters as well as Queen in her small venture making and selling chapattis. My choice to make the trip to Tanzania though was mostly out of my nomadic sense and nature, it presented me with the chance for adventure. This was despite all the responsibilities I had shouldered. Buda was my friend and I wanted to support him, I had also never been to Tanzania, the land of Julius Nyerere’s ujamaa (family hood), and there was a yearning to see the country and life of its people.

Buda had many genuine reasons to visit the inyanga. He was experiencing difficulties at work, the family was slowly moving apart as every one had embarked on an individual, maybe even capitalistic, journey dictated by the economic difficulties of the time. His sister, who he had helped procure an abortion so she could be admitted to a college, was not living up to his expectations. Buda also felt the need to thank the gods for whatever they had made him to be.

One thing, more than the rest, convinced and propelled him towards Tanzania was the sickness of his loving mother, Dana Dom, whom he brought along despite her staunch Christian leaning. The pair had come a long way together and they had a bond that was not equaled by any other. I believe that the umbilical cord takes a long time to be cut and to tell the truth, Buda and the mother’s cord was still fresh and strong.

I remember one day intervening to ask him to accept back his wife, Lizzy, to come home after the Queen had a quarrel with Buda’s mother. He had been quick to jump to his mother’s defence and may even have gone to the point of telling his wife to leave his house, such was their bond. Life had thrown them together and there was nothing he would not do for Dana Dom.

Oduo also travelled with his father and grandmother and was happy to visit the home of the inyanga in Musoma. Near the shores of Lake Victoria in the north of Tanzania, Musoma is a flat area. It was the middle of the dry season and the days were hot and dusty. Most of the houses in the village were built in the traditional style of woven grass and mud. The homestead of the healer was larger than the others. There were many huts, housing his numerous wives and children. The yards were clean and dotted with big trees under which people would sit in the heat of the day or before being called for consultation.

The whole thing was exciting for Oduo. What was even better was the fact that he was assigned a young woman to accompany him at night to serve and see to his needs. What a saving of time, having personally experienced the challenges of a relationship. Oduo saw this young lady as his partner but there was none of the other needs and demands of a formal relationship, it was carefree, comfortable companionship.

Traditionally, this was a young woman who was not able to have children and who would be assigned to male visitors as part of the healing – if she were to conceive then the inyanga’s treatment would be shown to be effective. Perhaps this happened once and now this treatment had become a healing myth that was easily accepted. Interesting that, during a time when parents and elders arranged marriages, this custom prevailed meaning that a lot of problems were averted. Male visitors were obviously directed, peacefully, not to behave unfittingly in the host village. Even God choose a woman for Adam, the first man according to the bible. This was Oduo’s early experience of another culture’s way of welcoming a visitor and making one feel at home and loved. He was eighteen years old, had just finished school and was just beginning to find his own way in the world.

For three days mother, son and grandson prepared and performed the necessary cleansing rituals to the satisfaction of the inyanga’s spirits before getting the opportunity to finally see him. During one of the first visits to the healer Oduo had a disagreement with the man, Buda and Dana Dom.  He had already decided that this inyanga was not sincere, that his abilities were as fickle as the paper money he was chasing. A challenge was put to the inyanga – he was asked to predict where a fly would next land before Oduo could believe in or trust his capability to see the future. The inyanga, sensing the seriousness of this young man, the potential risk of loosing his moneyed customers, went along and unfortunately missed the target. This led to the expulsion of Oduo from the inyanga’s compound.

Oduo had hoped that by challenging the inyanga his father might wake up to what Oduo felt was a sham. He did this despite the danger of being seen as a rebel and even coming to be cast as the one who spoiled the affectivity of the consultation. He opened himself up to a risky position, being used as a scapegoat. If Oduo could not bring his father around then he hoped, at least, to win his freedom from the proceedings so that he could explore and enjoy the newness of the environment he was now in.

Being expelled was a blessing, it signaled the beginning of further adventures. It was unfortunate that Oduo’s action did not go well with Buda and, more so, Dana Dom who concluded that Oduo was demon-possessed. Rather than side with her grandson she chose the inyanga out of the fear of his perceived status in society. It was bit like the parable of the Emperor’s new clothes.

The inyanga was an older man, maybe in his fifties, who had come to be exposed to money and he had quickly learnt ways of accessing it. This was a good marketer, Buda had even heard about him across the border. His head was shaved bald and he wore old clothes, a skirt. During the consultation though he painted his face and body and donned many bracelets and necklaces of shell and bone choosing also to go bare-chested with just a loincloth covering his privates. Around the grass consultation hut were scattered skulls and bones. Inside there were many skins and horns, cages of live birds, pieces of bone and many plants that were part of his remedies. In this setting the inyanga had a menacing appearance, scary even, and against this backdrop, his stage, he really came to life but Oduo had seen him before and so was not convinced by the act.

Oduo’s fall from grace was helped by the healer’s conviction. He had managed to turn Buda and Dana Dom to his side, despite failing to live up to the challenge. It was a blow to Oduo who had now lost the trust and confidence of his elders. As a last resort he had threatened to let his mother know what had happened. This was a journey undertaken in secret as the cost would bring more friction in the family. Queen, like her son, never believed that one could pay to be assisted or treated in the traditional way.

The threat was too much for Buda who was now in a corner. This tension gave Oduo power and the immunity, which was his intention from the very beginning, to explore, learn and interact with the locals. This he did in his own unique, free spirited way, further motivated by the fact that nothing was expected of him now. To his father and Dana Dom, he was a demon-possessed fellow, judged mad. Oduo loved his new found status, he could do anything! In the kingdom of the blind the one eyed man, or in this case the madman, is king. This is very often the fate of the minority, in being judged to be outside of the rules and norms these rules and norms no longer apply, this person is freed.

For the week of the consultation, Oduo became a dancer. He would go from village to village dancing to an old gramophone, an instrument he had never seen before in his life. His youth encountered a blend of tradition and modernity. Oduo was open to this diversity and he drank deeply of it making friends, learning new ways and having experiences that further opened his understanding. Oduo was free in the way he had always wanted, to make his own choices and live happily with the results.

Such was his joy and abandon that he was even given a tortoise as a gift at the home of Owino Misiani. This musician was a wise son of the land. He was an elder that talked his mind and walked his journey through music. Misiani is known as the “Grandfather of Benga”, a popular genre in East Africa. In the 60s and 70s the Tanzanian musician sang about issues facing the region which led him to be taken by the authorities as oppositional, earning him several prison visits.

The house stood out in its surrounds, it was brick, mortar, and tiles, against the backdrop of the mud and grass dwellings of his home. His was one of many voices that refused to be silenced and so he invited and endured separation from his home, his family, and his traditional way of life while in exile in Kenya. Looking back I feel an affinity with him as I myself would be forced into exile for my beliefs, for not belonging or following the mainstream, for not towing the line.

Oduo went home with this tortoise, a creature whose unspoken intelligence he loved and appreciated. It reminded him of the creator’s boundless wisdom when putting the spark to life. The tortoise is intelligent and patient, a brave creature not to be thought of as a possession. Traditionally they have been portrayed as ignorant and slow which has made them easily abused. Their lives are not valued and yet they are a creature that survives. Slow but steady as the saying goes, always arriving at the intended goal despite the obstacles. Oduo really took this as a great gift.

This enjoyment continued and on the day they were to return, Oduo left early, in a sulk, saying goodbye slowly while the rest prepared for the bus. He went directly to Nairobi, a Maa word for ‘place of swampy water’, alone. Nairobi was an ancestral home. Oduo’s great grandfather had lived there until he was pushed out in 1904 after witnessing the killing and extermination of the elders there under the Anglo-Maasai Agreement.

Buda and his mother returned to Ugolwe some time after Oduo’s departure, still in a bad mood with him. They brought with them a man who was an aid to the inyanga and who was tasked with performing a series of cleansing rituals in the home of Dana Dom in Ugolwe. This was an unwise and risky course of action according to some elders in the chang’aa (a traditional brew) drinking dens. They believed, and still think, that Dana Dom and her son did not have the right to undertake such a powerful ritual in the absence of the elders and other siblings. Dana Dom was a widow and Buda had not even built his own home according to the traditions and culture of his people and ancestors. The saying goes: Only a man knows the secrets of his own home.

These things I learned while visiting Buda, things which were among the main reasons given for the later problems and demise of the Nyayiekka family. How could Buda know what was good for a home when he had not had his own mudzi, boma or dala (house or homestead) as they called it? How could he know what rituals his father, another man, and the only son of Buda’s grandfather, had performed in the protection of his home. Buda had not consulted those senior to him and doing so can have very real consequences. His actions had placed him in an ancestral role, something that was wrong in the strongest way. I understood all this having come from a culture where even shaking the hands of an elder is a privilege. You cannot measure your matanye (buttocks) with your elder’s – you just don’t sit on a chair that an elder sits on.

Oduo believed that this traditional way is perfect, to him it is about the total respect of another and the whole of life. What is true though is that no one can be forced to respect the next, it is a basic understanding dependant on each individual. From these traditions he knew this was natural and well understood by all, stemming from cohesive communities, family values and how children learned this in the way they were brought up. Every one was a stakeholder and responsible for the direction taken by the community, each individual’s role was important as the next.

I agree that this is a beautiful tradition that promotes peace and unity in society. Lack of respect is lack of ubuntu, utu (humanness), a way of being that is the foundation of true native human community. Absence of utu leads to competition, greed, malice, and even violence. Inside of this knowledge I have always maintained that the native minority peoples have a great potential gift of learning to humanity, even as the ones most often abused or scorned. These ancient ways have the possibility of showing us all a wisdom that may set us as humanity, in all our magnificent diversity, on a path towards a collective way.