Have you ever been caught up in some cultural practices and you end up looking like a shocked crocodile that has gone back to its nest to witness its eggs hatch only to see baby Anacondas squeezing themselves out of the egg shells and wonder when, how and where it even shook an Anaconda’s hand, leave alone procreate with it.
My friend, I tell you, before you date anyone, just make sure you understand their traditions. Don’t be caught up like me and end up looking like something a cat has just brought in.
Long before I met baba Sori, I used to date someone else whom I thought was going to be baba Sori.
I also know he thought I was going to be the mother of his children, but as fate would have it, a woman put us asunder!
The funny thing is that she was also left! Allow me to laugh, hahaha. Back to our story, all was well until a disaster stroke and we had to attend a burial at his rural area.
I had never been in his rural area, in fact, he had never even introduced me to any of his relatives. He lost a close family member and so I had to accompany him for the burial.
He travelled home immediately, I was to join him a day before the burial. Just before I travelled, he called to ask me to carry him his three-piece suit which he had forgotten to carry when he left.
He wanted to have it on on the burial day, but these men from the lakeside, though, na ile jua yote mtu alikuwa anataka kudunga three piece suit?
He made it clear that I should carry it complete with the hunger the exact way it had left the dry cleaners and not dare fold it.
Being the good wife material I was, I hung it next to me on the rail above my seat in the bus the night I was travelling to join them upcountry.
Fast forward to my arrival time. Our bus broke down on the way and we ended up getting to the lakeside city later than expected and my man together with his family had already gone to the morgue to pick the deceased.
So I had to join them there straight away. I hopped into a tuk-tuk still holding up the three piece suit to avoid creasing it in any way lest I annoyed my future ex-fiancé.
Thankfully, I did not have a big bag so I was not overwhelmed that much. When I got to the morgue, everyone was in a somber mood, people were wailing and I was there standing still holding the suit up.
My man came, gave me a hug and introduced me to his family members. Meanwhile, I was being given ‘that look’
Thankfully, I did not have a big bag, so I was not overwhelmed that much. When I got to the morgue, everyone was in a somber mood, people were wailing and I was there standing still holding the suit up.
My man came, gave me a hug and introduced me to his family members. Meanwhile, I was being given ‘that look’ by everyone.
You know the look everyone gives you when you are first introduced to future relatives? Yes, that look; I wanted to cry too like the rest but my tears refused to cooperate.
How do you even start mourning someone you have never met or even seen? I tried remembering my late parents to bring tears to my eyes in vain so that I could fit in the bracket of mourners but instead, I found myself smiling at the fond memories I had of them.
I switched my memory to my high school Mathematics teacher remembering all the slaps he gave me one time after I drew a hawk and chicks running away from it instead of calculating the speed they used but that thought was not enough to bring tears to my eyes.
After several attempts to cry in vain, I gave up! I decided to hold my chin instead, at least that is also a sign of mourning.
The journey from the lakeside city to the rural area finally started and I sighed in relief. Little did I know that further tests awaited me.
Still holding his suit like a ripe wife material, we made a grand entrance to their compound amidst wails.
I looked for a perfect spot to rest my already worn out body and was lucky to find some soft grass.
The compound was full and as seconds ticked, more mourners trooped in. By the time night fell, there was barely space to relax, the compound was packed and yes, I was still holding this suit because my man mentioned that there was no safe place to keep it with people walking everywhere.
We were then led to a makeshift ‘dining hall’ to eat in turns.
The ‘Dining hall boss’ would come to where mourners were and call out “Jo Nairobi” then people from Nairobi would go and eat.
After that, he would come back and say “Jo Ukwala” then people from Ukwala would scramble to reach the dining hall.
He would then come back, “Jo Kisumo” and Kisumu people would fight to reach the hall.
Woe unto you if you came from the neighborhood because trust me you will be the last to eat no matter how much you mourned, that is if the food remains.
That became the trend for the rest of the days we were there. Don’t even ask me about drinking water!
It was being given out ile ya kujuana. You would think one needed to fill a form that would be scrutinised by a panel before they were given drinking water.
Woe unto you if you cannot hold your thirst like a camel because the next center where you can buy water is 32km away.
Minutes after darkness fell, the compound turned into a huge dance floor as gospel music hit the waves.
Knowing I would not find a place to rest my poor head, I decided to spread the suit on the grass and lay on it till morning.
After all, I was not alone, people were in big groups sleeping outside just like me. Within no time, I was joined by other mourners whom I believe were as tired and we all fell asleep very close next to each other on the grass in order to keep warm.
I was woken up by sudden sounds in the wee hours of the night. Some drunk village boys were fighting at our huge dance floor.
It looked like a comedy to me. Finally, there was something to cheer me up.
There is nothing as interesting as watching two drunk men fighting both verbally and physically.
I sat up to catch this ‘comedy’ before it came to an end. My ribs were beginning to ache from the laughter I was experiencing when my eyes met my feet and I realized I was barefoot!
I rubbed my eyes to confirm I was looking at my feet and indeed, those were my feet! My beloved sports shoes were gone together with my socks!
I started shaking the women on both my sides waking them up and telling them someone had stolen my shoes.
They woke up but instead of listening to me, their attention was driven to the fighting drunks.
I was about to shake them once again when I realized the three piece suit was gone!
Just like that; someone had managed to lift me off the ground and take my man’s suit which he was preparing to wear the next day during the burial as if he was about to launch a political manifesto then put me back to the ground!
What on earth were these people using? Anesthesia? How did they manage to lift me off the ground without me feeling it?
Because of them, my man ended up ‘swelling’ like a mandazi the rest of the days we spent there calling me careless!
One day I will tell you how he put a hold on my conjugal rights after the burial blaming it on traditions! I say, catch me dead dating from the lakeside.
I am currently receiving CVs from London, yes, I said London, and not that London in Nakuru, so spare me the confusion!
Beryl Itindi shares her experience with her Luo boyfriend especially when she attended a funeral upcountry. The moral of her story is that you should understand all the cultural norms before getting so close to anyone.
Credits:tuko.co.ke/Beryl Itindi
