THE TALES OF THE INNOCENT MIGINGO (Part 1)

I was born in Kisumu City in the then Victoria hospital on the 3rd of September. I was the forth born to a very happily married couple. The birth was also very natural – not C-Section. C-Section comes about due to many factors including but not limited to the size of the baby’s head visa-a-vi the apparatus size. The former being directly proportional to that of his dad’s. If a lady does not want CS, you’re bound to choose a man with moderate head.

Being the forth born, I was so much welcome, into the world, by my other three senior siblings – two females and a male. Life was so great with very loving father and mother. I was always enjoying the nice things as a last born. To me, life was just perfect before mom engaged full gear resulting to other four siblings whom I was told were bought from Nyamariko. Nyamariko, as I later realized, was a mid wife.
At some point Dad was awarded tender to construct Sewerage and recycling plants at Moi Barracks - Eldoret. We lived in Soy A for a few years before moving into our own plot in Vihiga Village. Vihiga Village is just a few kilometers from Soy A.

When I was of school going age, my dad refused to let me go to school. “Hold your ear!!!” He said. Holding an ear was not a problem, what it entailed was the biggest issue. It required the innocent me to take my right hand across my not so small head to the left ear. It took me more than a year to succeed and that’s when I joined nursery school without passing through baby class. Joining school brought about many good things notwithstanding the creeping ugly things. I had to be separated from my biological mom which was too painful for a baby of my age. Mom had to go back to the village to take care of Stella, my ailing paternal grandmother. I was still holding the title of last born. She left me behind with dad, elder brother, George a.k.a Sila Aringo and Anditi, our much disciplined and beautiful maid who often served us while kneeling.

One evening a woman came home, in the company of my dad. She clearly did not show the intent of leaving the premises that evening. Her name was Naliaka from Luhya land. She was a beautiful girl who talked in a very funny but forceful accent. He Swahili was always punctuated with “ko” at the end of every verb. “Haki si uendeko tu kwa kisima unileteko maji” She asked. Gerge and I were asked to call her mom, something which took me awhile to adapt to. Continuous strokes of the cane did the trick. Suddenly my very loving dad changed into some strange monster that did not spare me at the slightest complaint of his new wife. Beating me became the order of the day; hardly did a day pass by without agonizing through many strokes of the cane. I started living in constant fear of both my dad, Naliaka and the new environment. I had to whisper when talking to dad and Naliaka because my vocal ability was under constant panic mode. Living with my step mom started becoming a big issue when it became apparent that she was expecting twins. She no longer considered me her “son”. Even the little elements of motherly concerns were withdrawn. Life, in its true nature, was just pathetic as things started becoming more elephant. She started denying me food and other basic needs with strict warning never to report to dad. She turned into a Mrs. Monster threatening to swallow me alive at the slightest leakage of her true colours. Everything I did, both indoors and outdoors, irritated her. I had nobody to turn to at that hour of need. The birds of the air and the creeping animals of the field were happier than me. I gradually started wetting myself due to constant fear with nobody available to assist me. My fellow children in school and in the estate’s play ground mocked me. My eyes turned red as a result of the constant springs of tears emanating from my tear glands rolling down my chicks at every opportune moment. Warm water for bathing became a foreign language to my pathetic skin. Neighbours tried to reach my biological mom to no avail. There were telephone booths in our village then. I never liked the idea of eating on the dark corner of the floor while the rest were feasting on the table. Resentment filled my deeply hurting heart. Questions without answers clouded my innocent mind.

At least ones in a while I could get the chance to play and laugh with my fellow kids. There was this lady friend of Naliaka who had excess behind. Kids, including myself, used to call her othicha, due to her protruding sitting allowance.  I remember one day when she was walking across the estate, several of us gathered to sing behind her “Pa pa pa – Othicha!! Pa pa pa – Othicha” She was not amused. I had nothing to lose anyway? The same night I had a dream; a very scary one! I ran across the house wailing “Uuuuuwiii!!! Othicha lawa gi mach!!! Uuuuuwiii!!! Othicha lawa gi mach!!!” (Othicha is chasing me with fire!!! Othicha is chasing me with fire!!!). Othicha had turned the tables on me!!!  Everybody in the house woke up in shock. I later realized that I was not the only one who had the same dream that night. Othicha must have bewitched us. I thanked God that from that day, Othicha became a persona-non-grata in our house courtesy of my dad.

Pain and anguish filled my heart

One weekend, dad remembered he had a wife and a mother at home. He decided to leave me and my elder brother in the secure hands of Naliaka. Anditi had already been fired under unclear circumstances. She was too pretty to live with us in the same house - the circumstances having changed. Dad left on a Thurday morning and returned on Monday evening. The last official meal I took was on Wednesday Evening. This woman decided to starve me to a point where I almost forgot my name!! On Thursday, I came back, from school, for lunch only to be served with nothing. All utensils had been washed sparklingly clean. That night I only remember smelling dinner before the lights went off. Somebody must have played a trick on me. I said “aih sulu”, dinner must have eaten itself. I had to sleep hungry and dirty as the location of soap had been changed. My brother on the other hand had his own way of survival which I never bothered to inquire. Utensils remained clean on Friday, Saturday and Sunday. Come Monday morning, I said “let come what may”. I decided to steal food at dawn. The greatest challenge was how to reach the food which was securely suspended using a rope tied to the ceiling of the kitchen. There is no way I could reach it; not even with the help of a stool. Since I had said “ka rach to rach” I was determined to reach it. My determination frustrated all my frustrations. I managed to pull a stool then jumped to knock the sufuria. Ooh nooo!!! Nooo!!!! Nooo!!! All that was therein poured on to the ground. It was some traditionally cooked vegetables – very sweet. I ate from the ground – everything except what had gathered dust. Naliaka was woken up by the commotion. She rushed out of their bedroom door, her protruding stomach ahead of her, fuming! Slaps and more slaps landed on the circumference of my head. My brother, George, rushed to the kitchen corner, his body shaking from within with his hands folded across his chest, tears freely flowing across his cheeks, watching helplessly as his brother received common treatment of the cane. “Lick everything - you wanted food” She shouted while pushing my head to the ground. I went on my knees tracing the dust infested vegetables with the overflowing tears ruining my visibility. I cried hoping that the ground would open up and swallow me alive. Death was far much better than the grueling frustrations of the infant life.

Dad returned from the village that evening and I begged him, in vain, to take me to my biological mom. “A man must stay next to his father!” he roared. I was just a small boy, a boy who still needed to feel the mothers love! I still needed to break some utensils and be forgiven. My fingers were still active and mistakes were common around me. Plates stood strategically before me in anticipation of being broken. In deed I did not disappoint. Naliaka too never hesitated to land on my behind with the painful treatment.

Yours in excruciating Pain,

Onyore Jakotuol