Nyarwath
New Lister
Nothing eats a man like being jobless and unable to provide. Your ego is completely downtrodden and the worst case scenario is turning to the bottle for solace especially in the village.
You lose yourself to an extent that you'll graduate to being the village gravedigger, splitting firewood during funerals, fetching water, slaughtering animals and running similar errands so that you get something to eat and a taste of your favourite local brew.
You drink to an extent that you change your skin tone to light complexion with a bulging stomach and chubby cheeks, burnt lips and brown hair.
People may think that you're fat from afar but the reality is, you're swollen.
You don't bathe, you don't brush, can't change clothes and a trouser may have urine stains, soup, spilt alcohol, sweat plus dust.
The kind of stench rivalling a mature he goat.
A certain April back in the days not so long ago, there was a funeral in the village. An old lady had passed on and as was the norm, her body was preserved in the county mortuary awaiting burial.
On the day she was brought home to be buried, an incident occurred that changed the whole process into a nightmare.
A daughter who had been away since the matriarch's demise, arrived home and claimed that, the corpse was not her mother's and demanded answers from the mortuary. This claim was supported by a number of people who knew the shosho well but had been reluctant to say so since people change in death.
So the casket was swung open, the corpse subjected to a fresh thorough scrutiny to ascertain its authenticity. A number of prominent birthmarks were missing.
Verdict? We were not going to bury a stranger.
The body was taken back to the mortuary to demand for the right one.
Upon checking their records, a similar name appeared, almost the same age and the deaths were recorded on the same dates. So this was where the confusion arose.
So where was the other one? Was already taken two days ago and probably buried.
This case was then taken to the police station because definitely, an exhumation was in the offing. The police said they were not going to do that kind of work but they would accompany us to that village and supervise the exercise.
So, we had to mobilize men from our village to do that work.
When this report was phoned back home, nobody was willing to volunteer for this noble cause. After consultations, a conclusion was reached.
Here money had to be poured. Chang'aa and ndom had to do their work and a free supply was ordered immediately. Guys drank and smoked! As this was happening, a mobilizer was busy convincing these guys to step up to the daunting task ahead and offered them two goats and two hundred shillings each. The village DDOs agreed to this deal to our relief. With a few men and some old men, they were driven to the gravesite to undertake their mandate as agreed.
With the police land cruiser and a van to carry the body, we joined them to witness.
It was a rainy season and the grave was very fresh, it was only a day old. The village chief was there, the police and the bereaved family who were equally shocked but also correctly identified their mother and admitted to the mix up.
The exercise was duly done, our guys exchanged the corpses, putting our own in the new coffin we had come with and burying the other body in the other soiled casket. The body was still ok, save for the sweat.
This exercise was not for the faint hearted and surprisingly, close family members had avoided it citing superstition and fear. Even me, I kept my distance despite the fact that I was there.
Kama haingekuwa hao walevi, sijui ingekuaje. I realized that those guys are very important in the village and whenever I can, I throw them a round when am home. Nobody is useless, however useless you may feel, you can still be used as a bad example.
You lose yourself to an extent that you'll graduate to being the village gravedigger, splitting firewood during funerals, fetching water, slaughtering animals and running similar errands so that you get something to eat and a taste of your favourite local brew.
You drink to an extent that you change your skin tone to light complexion with a bulging stomach and chubby cheeks, burnt lips and brown hair.
People may think that you're fat from afar but the reality is, you're swollen.
You don't bathe, you don't brush, can't change clothes and a trouser may have urine stains, soup, spilt alcohol, sweat plus dust.
The kind of stench rivalling a mature he goat.
A certain April back in the days not so long ago, there was a funeral in the village. An old lady had passed on and as was the norm, her body was preserved in the county mortuary awaiting burial.
On the day she was brought home to be buried, an incident occurred that changed the whole process into a nightmare.
A daughter who had been away since the matriarch's demise, arrived home and claimed that, the corpse was not her mother's and demanded answers from the mortuary. This claim was supported by a number of people who knew the shosho well but had been reluctant to say so since people change in death.
So the casket was swung open, the corpse subjected to a fresh thorough scrutiny to ascertain its authenticity. A number of prominent birthmarks were missing.
Verdict? We were not going to bury a stranger.
The body was taken back to the mortuary to demand for the right one.
Upon checking their records, a similar name appeared, almost the same age and the deaths were recorded on the same dates. So this was where the confusion arose.
So where was the other one? Was already taken two days ago and probably buried.
This case was then taken to the police station because definitely, an exhumation was in the offing. The police said they were not going to do that kind of work but they would accompany us to that village and supervise the exercise.
So, we had to mobilize men from our village to do that work.
When this report was phoned back home, nobody was willing to volunteer for this noble cause. After consultations, a conclusion was reached.
Here money had to be poured. Chang'aa and ndom had to do their work and a free supply was ordered immediately. Guys drank and smoked! As this was happening, a mobilizer was busy convincing these guys to step up to the daunting task ahead and offered them two goats and two hundred shillings each. The village DDOs agreed to this deal to our relief. With a few men and some old men, they were driven to the gravesite to undertake their mandate as agreed.
With the police land cruiser and a van to carry the body, we joined them to witness.
It was a rainy season and the grave was very fresh, it was only a day old. The village chief was there, the police and the bereaved family who were equally shocked but also correctly identified their mother and admitted to the mix up.
The exercise was duly done, our guys exchanged the corpses, putting our own in the new coffin we had come with and burying the other body in the other soiled casket. The body was still ok, save for the sweat.
This exercise was not for the faint hearted and surprisingly, close family members had avoided it citing superstition and fear. Even me, I kept my distance despite the fact that I was there.
Kama haingekuwa hao walevi, sijui ingekuaje. I realized that those guys are very important in the village and whenever I can, I throw them a round when am home. Nobody is useless, however useless you may feel, you can still be used as a bad example.
You have just described Kibe, a guy I underwent a rite of passage with
