I used to have a male dog that I named Danger due to its
hunting prowess. It was not a pet but a hunting dog. It therefore spent
the night outside in the cold, doubling up as a security dog. During the
life of Danger, I managed to capture so many squirrels and a few hares
here and there. In our tradition it was a taboo for women to eat
squirrels and hares. I enjoyed eating the delicacies alone save for a
few jowanya. Jowanya are those people who only appear during
food time. I clearly remember when George Amula aka Otis Arowo stole my
squirrel – I went demanding it from his mom and it was returned to me
intact. His mom never liked wild animals. I was also engaged in hunting
for monitor lizards as I used their skin for making the Luo one stringed
instrument known as Orutu. Orutu is an instrument which I
loved and played very well until my elder sister, Grace betrayed me with
my dad. Dad asked me to destroy the orutu and concentrate in class
work. I tearfully stepped on it under his watch and to date I’ve never
owned another one. All the monitor lizards I hunted died in vain and the
way those things were hard to hunt down - At least Danger enjoyed their
flesh. Danger later went to be with the Lord. I suspected somebody very
close to be must have prematurely sent him there.Those days I used to sleep in the late Teresia’s house until one day it collapsed without notice - injuring nobody. I had to practice the art of chasing sleep. Chasing Sleep literally meant going to sleep in another man’s house which was not build with the intention of accommodating invaders like me. We were several kids in Okoth Ojal’s single roomed house; Noah Ogwang’, Oyier Ojal, Tis Arowo, Miloma Okoth and me. The room was divided into two by a light blue curtain with one side being the bed side and the rest being the living room. We used to sleep on the floor of the dining side. In many occasions, we had trouble doing our home work as Riat Ojal, Okoth’s step brother, proffered having his three aggressive, noisy and ill mannered hunting dogs sleep with us in the same room. These village dogs were not trained on the slightest clue of manners. They would bark at the slightest movement, outside the house. Apart from scratching their bellies throughout the night, they also had this habit of producing ugly sound as if something was choking them. Maybe they were being haunted by the many squirrels they had killed. Ironically, whenever they puked some smelly stuff, they would struggle to lick them back. Even though tradition required me not to spend the night in my dad’s house since “I was of age”, I decided enough was enough with the disgusting dogs; I went back to and started sleeping in bedroom two. They later transferred me to a small separate room where Charles Odiany and our other servant used to spend. There I witnessed things which cannot be recounted in the words of the Englishman. The other servant made me witness the real meaning of pornography. They spoilt both my innocent eyes and ears. The love portion was working for them just too well – I guess.
One day, my mom together with my sister, Jane Ogola aka Ojiro nyamande (Hanging Pranks) decided to clean our room. They found my draft letters to Karen; letters which never found their way into the girl’s bag. That was not the worst part- the embarrassing part was that I caught them red handed laughing at my soothing words! My sister leaked the information to dad who engaged me in a very serious dialogue this time. At least he didn’t cane me – he knew his son was turning into a man. He asked me to concentrate in class and stop playing around with girls who had nothing to do with my future. He explained to me that what was disturbing me was not love but a process in life known as adolescence; something that he also passed through. I really wanted to ask dad how his adolescence girlfriend looked like but I couldn’t just dare. “How can I just leave Karen without any injections” I asked myself silently. Dad also asked me to do away with the “gay” rabbits and get into a venture which did not require much of my time. I was wondering how this time round Dad was so calm and cool while talking to me. I knew this issue was touchy and I had to think deeply at what this man was saying – obviously something was hidden under his sleeves.
The following day, after much thought, I decided to sell the gay couple to separate individuals and replace them with two chickens. This time round I had to confirm for myself that they were all female and not cockerels. I couldn’t buy a cock as tradition did not permit me. There was only one cock in the homestead belonging to dad and the cock (oh my – not again) had the ability to service not only my new girls but also many others around the homestead. I also had to painfully break up with Karen and preserved my penisity (what is the synonym of virginity?). I also stopped being a scout, traditional dancer and an instrumentalist. My Orutu talent died a natural death. My letter writing skills were also buried. That year I failed the elimination test by a paltry one mark. Mr. Adem Raongo, the head teacher refused to let me move to class eight despite my several pleas. I was therefore forced to share a class with the Hanging Prank who later failed the test.
During this period, dad had already transferred his second family from Eldoret (Vihiga) to Mamboleo – Kajulu (Kisumu). He had another home there which they had built, with my mom, before we went to Eldoret. Mamboleo home had a very big compound – about one hectare. This is where we would later go during school holidays. My brother George was in Ngere High school then with Gorety, dad’s obvious favourite, in Nyakongo Girls High School. Gorety used to know how to get money out of dad’s pockets. She would inflate the sanitary towel budget to almost triple. When dad dared to question, Gorety would offer detailed explanation on how she would use them and when; an explanation dad would never give a chance preferring rather to part with the cash. My brother George on the other hand remained with dry skin because the items in his budget did not include any sanitary towels. Maybe he needed to inflate the prices of condoms; but the thought of even including such item in the budget would be disastrous.
One day, while still in the village, we decided to go visit my brother George in Ngere High School. We had gone to play football just after closing school and we remembered that we also had brothers in High School who needed to be assisted with their luggage. We were very dirty. When we reached Ngere High with Oyier Ojal and Otis Arowo, we beckoned my brother who asked us to get into the school through the fence – he was a form three then. Those were the days when a form three was feared like petrol fire. A few form ones were kicked out of their beds that night and imagine what – my fellow dirty cartoons and myself took over. I shared the bed with one of my friends while the other slept alone. Due to the fact that the beds were small, we slept in with our heads facing opposite direction – his cracked and smelly toes were next to my nose while mine were next to his as we covered ourselves with the same Kalara blanket. We slept soundly apart from my bed mate who was busy making noise with the gases from his exhaust pipe thereby keeping me half awake. I forgave him for he did not know what he was doing to the little available oxygen. His farting behind produced several sounds that could not be traced in any musical instrument.
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| Nyoyo |
That night, I learnt that the students who come from Ngere and its environs; those who do not need to board any bus; those who have to be assisted by their dirty brothers in ferrying their belonging are referred to as “Jopunde”. Jopunde literally means “people of donkeys” and my brother squarely fell in this category. This just meant that the only means of transport available for the type of my bro were donkey -Hihooo hihoo. The high school boys had very many love stories with the nocturnal ones giving many giants episodes of their experiences with their girls. One of my ears was wide open to listen to everything; in fact there was no way I could be fully asleep with the kind of supper I had eaten the previous night – white porridge with nyoyo (githeri). That was the kind of meal meant for those who are plowing the farms at home – not High School students!
The following day, after taking porridge for breakfast, we departed with the luggage to the Reru – about 2kms from Ngere. At the back of my mind, I was imagining how I could implement the giant ideas I got from Ngere. When the school opened for holiday tuition, I decided to taste the waters ones more randomly. I started becoming fond of standing at the door just when the break time bell rang; this would enable me to have a feel of the ladies tiny boobs. For sure it was mind blowing and I was not alone. Miloma Odhiambo was my brother in crime. He would stand on the opposite frame making the door even smaller. Ladies had to pass sideways. They had a choice of either facing Miloma’s side or my side. I was very glad when most of them proffered facing my side with my apparatus weeping in overwhelming joy.
In my class, people had very queer behavior and this forced them, including me, to keep pocketing all the time. At a point Mr. Adem Raongo, the Head Master illegalized pocketing in school. Why was pocketing abolished, in the first place? You see almost all of us had no underwear’s; we could just walk bolingo nangai. Ladies used to mock us “omera okot ywak” (Brother your bell is ringing) due to the fact that the apparatus could play aimlessly within the short trousers. In many occasions lady teachers would ask us to sit properly because in those occasions someone’s uncut python would produce its pathetic head for some fresh air.
The reason for pocketing was to hide the fixed asset from being exposed. You see, after standing at the door something would automatically happen below the belt which we had no control over and this something had to be suppressed by the hand within the pocket. This is a tactic that did not just start the other day. Those are the days when split less trousers vanished – how could one have real apparatus and still wear split less trousers?
Yours brother in crime
Migingo Awat
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