Monday 11 July 2016

MASKS- A play scene 1 and 2

MASKS
A play by
     STANSLAUS KIKUVI KYENZE













Characters:
Mujomba- He is the patriarch of the family A pastor
Mbeke: Mujomba’s Wife
Kalekye: Mujomba’s Daughter
Pastor David: (PD) A con witch doctor (WD) who doubles up as an assistant pastor in Mujomba’s church
Kyalo: An orphan. Kalekye’s boyfriend as leader of the church youth choir












               




PROLOGUE
The action in this scene takes place about a year before the action in the rest of the play. Mujomba is a struggling “preacher “who enlists the help of a witch doctor because his “church” is not doing well. The setting shows an isolated hut. It is nothing much more than a grass thatched hut from the outside. The status of the roof and the overall appearance depicts that it had seen better days. The compound is unkempt, the grass overgrown and the fence is rotting away, sagging under the weight of an enormous passion fruit tree. The compound appears totally desolate save for a solitary person- Mujomba -seated on a bench near the passion fruit tree.
The witch doctor can be heard chanting off stage.
WD: (chanting) what a day for the seeker of wealth.
What a day for the birds to chirp in the brushes
What an hour for the soul that craves for more
The hearts of men are nothing but bottomless pits
Riddled with lust, insatiable cravings
Evil to the core
(WD has reached the door of the hut. On his face is a large scary mask. One can’t tell the face behind the mask. His body is covered in various items but most prominent is feathers draped all over his body. A small gourd can be seen dangling from his neck.)
It appears we have a visitor. (The mask has covered his mouth and one can’t tell the natural voice of the speaker.)
MUJOMBA: Yes
WD: Alright, come in (he says this as he goes inside the house. Mujomba follows him) Disrespect, disrespect mortal. Supplicate don’t mistake this shrine for your house. (Mujomba supplicates immediately.)  Now that’s better, much better. What brings you here?
MUJOMBA: (hesitant) great...great... eyes... My business is not doing well
WD: Do I look like a profit and loss analyst to you?
JOMBA: I thought you would help me.
WD: (Threateningly) Hahaha! As if you could think!  You simply can’t think. You are an empty skull in the face of the great eye. (He unties a gourd from his neck and places it next to Mujomba’s head)
Put seven pieces of silver there. (Mujomba raises his head)Supplicate mortal. Don’t raise that pumpkin you pass for a head (Mujomba extends his hand and drops the coins inside the gourd) that’s better empty skull. Much better! What business do you run mortal?
MUJOMBA :( unsteady voice) I touch men’s souls
WD:  what about their bodies?
MUJOMBA: No great one. I am a minister of the word.
WD: Bone head, I don’t have time to mull over your meaning. What word, or is it Word of mouth?
MUJOMBA:  Not really. I am a preacher; I preach the good news only that I am not getting followers.
WD: Uh I see. You know well I can’t follow you. What do you want from me?
MUJOMBA: I would really appreciate full pews. I am a pastor, I preach, I quote the texts but they don’t follow me.
WD: Poor creature. (He takes a small gourd from somewhere inside his elaborate costume. Shakes it several times and pours the contents onto the ground. He looks at the pebbles which have fallen from the gourd keenly. His lips are moving visibly but no words can be heard. Mujomba is trembling visibly goes on to dramatically chant gibberish for about a minute, then he stops almost as suddenly as he started,)Mortal, you are in plenty of ill luck, you see this pebble here  (Mujomba raises his head to look. The WD pushes his head down). Pumpkin head keep your head down.WD continues) This pebble means you are going to fail miserably. (silence) Wait, wait a bit, you there is a glimmer of hope.
In the near future, you will, you will succeed but it involves an assistant. You need an assistant who comes laden with good fortune. The tide will change; the wind will fill your sails and the ship with gather speed.
MUJOMBA:  (Mujomba raises his head slightly) Honestly, I do not have any one in mind
WD: (pushes Mujomba’s head back onto the floor) Pumpkin head have you no memory. You are just an empty gourd at the mercy of the great eye. Do you understand?
MUJOMBA: Yes great one. (he is trembling more and more)
WD: People are thirsty, your people need hope. Just Listen to their cry and answer to that mortal. (WD produces another gourd) Now put two goats into that gourd. (Mujomba extends his hand once more and stuffs paper money into the gourd.)
Careful, careful with that, unlike some things you may know my vessel is clearly marked handle with care, though in invisible ink!
(WD takes up a tiny object from his pocket and hands it to Mujomba) Place that at the entrance to your premises. Do you understand?
MUJOMBA: Yes great one
WD: Off you go mortal. (Mujomba tries to stand up.)Crawl, you must crawl out of the shrine. (Mujomba crawls out)





SCENE 1

The action in this scene takes place at Mujomba's home. The compound shows two simple houses. Mujomba scurries into one of the houses brandishing a thick stick. His wife is sitting by the fireplace.
MUJOMBA: (slowly) what have you just told me woman?
(Makes as if to hit her)
MBEKE: (scared) Please control your temper
MUJOMBA: Kalekye? (Pauses) Pregnant?
(Raising the stick once more stick)
MBEKE:  (visibly trembling) my…my husbands, Pl…Pl… please check your anger.
MUJOMBA: (he holds her by the collar of her dress. He speaks very loudly and angrily)
My temper should be the least of your concerns. Sooner than you can discern you might have rising temperatures on your backside to keep your hands occupied.
(He lets go of her)
MBEKE: (Pleadingly) my husband, please do not raise your voice. Our neighbors might hear you.
MUJOMBA: (pointing at her with the stick) Consider yourself lucky if they do. Otherwise, If they don't, (silence) I am afraid that they are the same people who will plant you six feet under.
MBEKE: You know I came to you because I needed your counsel. I thought…
MUJOMBA: (Interposes) you thought wrong then. (Walking towards the door) I swear by the God of the Old Testament...
MBEKE: (Interrupts) please don't say that. For heaven’s sake you are a man of God!
MUJOMBA: (Mujomba stops and turns around) oh yes, for once you are right, a man of God and a man of action too. Tell me, (he walks towards her) just tell me, am I the father of that Good for nothing, God forsaken daughter of the devil?
MBEKE: (she is Shocked and covers her mouth with her hands) What?
MUJOMBA: (Visibly angry) are you hard of hearing? Who sired that sorry excuse of a daughter?
MBEKE: My husband, I don't think that is the subject of our discussion.
MUJOMBA: (Advancing menacingly) Woman, since when did you start steering discussions in this house? Who chooses the subject of discussion here?
MBEKE: But…
MUJOMBA: (Interrupting) shut up! Let me remind you something which seems to have slipped off your empty skull. (Drops the stick and now pulling her ears) Among my belonging  is a banana plantation, two grass thatched huts, a church,(pauses) and though I am no longer sure, a useless piece of feminine creation you pass for my blood and flesh and, note this (pauses) and you, yes, you too. Obviously, I am in charge here. Do you understand?
MBEKE: (scared) yes, I understand.
MUJOMBA: You better do or soon you won't be able to stand after I am finished with you.
MBEKE: (She says this pleadingly) my husband, but she is our daughter, we can’t turn our backs on her in her hour of need.
MUJOMBA: Our what? Can you really hear yourself? (Mimicking her) Our daughter? Aren't you even ashamed of associating me with such sin? Are you even sure that I sired that wayward sinner you pass for my own kindred?
MBEKE: (Offended) My husband, are you doubting my fidelity? Are you?
MUJOMBA: (he says this as he steps out of the door. However as he finishes the statement, Mbeke grabs him by the hand) The product of your womb speaks for itself.
MBEKE: I challenge you to state out rightly that you doubt my fidelity. Go on. Do it!
MUJOMBA: (Exasperated, he breaks away from her grasp, turns around to face her and Mbeke in turn makes a step or two from him)
Oh God of Abraham, Isaac and Jacob! Did Adam have to put up with this insanity? Lord, My God answer me, had you not extracted that defective rib from Adam would he have Lived long enough to bear the curse of the original sin.  I am really tempted to break the fifth commandment.
MBEKE: Yes!
MUJOMBA: (Glaring at her) Descendant of eve! Can’t I have a meaningful consultation with the powers that be without your interposing with unsolicited for confirmations? Who asked you to confirm my thoughts to him anyway?
MBEKE: I only tried to tell you that Kalekye is your daughter.
MUJOMBA: what? King Solomon, wisest of all men who ever lived, Husband to seven hundred wives and keeper of three hundred concubines. How did you remain sane?
MBEKE: (She walks towards him and lays her hand on his shoulder) my husband, you can’t afford to get angry now.
MUJOMBA: (Pointing at her) Oh yes I can lose my temper, I am and I should be angry. All my life I have dreamt of pearly gates and perhaps a one on one with Saint Peter. Then, that abomination which remains as a beacon of the miracle of procreation, conception and birth gone haywire has erased my lifelong dreams. Your daughter’s pregnancy has placed all that I have worked for my entire life on a knife’s edge
MBEKE: (Kneels down by him, holding his hand) we are on the same boat my husband. I am in your vessel too.
MUJOMBA: No wonder the waves of the sea threaten to capsize it. Jonah! You have no business here ;( pushing her away. She tumbles and sits on the floor) off you go to the land of Nineveh. Or better still I should redeem myself from this abode of sin. The only place I can get solace is the in the house of the lord. At least if no one understands me, the pews will.
(Mujomba hurries towards the door. He bumps to Pastor David who is about to knock the door.)
P.D (Looking at the fuming Mujomba) Quite a day, uh!
MUJOMBA: It’s actually like a summer in hell.
MBEKE: (from within the house). Is that David?
MUJOMBA: (over his shoulder) No, it’s Uriah!
P.D: (with a tone of urgency in his voice) I know you didn’t expect me but it’s very important that I speak to you now.
P.D: The sponsors called today.
MUJOMBA: Then?
P.D: I spoke to their representative who told me that, due to the many applications they are handling, they have decided to push forward the interview date. Hence they would come to interview our applicants next week
MUJOMBA: (Shocked) how could you agree to such a plan?
PD: I tried to suggest a later date bearing in mind the upcoming youth league conference but the representative insisted that it must be next week.
MUJOMBA: (Looking confused. Reflectively) Pastor David, I don’t know what to make of this situation.
P.D: What do you mean?
MUJOMBA: we have sponsors coming to interview the applicants and yet…
P.D: (interrupts) don’t worry pastor, your daughter and Kyalo are very bright. Am convinced they will impress the interviewers.
MUJOMBA: Have you read the list of requirements properly? It is expressly indicated that the applicants should be youth of proven good morals and actively involved in the activities of their home church.
P.D: Our candidates have met the criteria already….
MUJOMBA: (interrupting) not any more. At least one of them hasn’t.
P.D: What do you mean?
MUJOMBA: (bitterly) I don’t know how what to make of this, yet my daughter has gone ahead and made herself pregnant.
P.D: (Shocked. Covers his face with hands) what?
MUJOMBA: this is the situation my colleague. My daughter has effectively disqualified herself from the scholarship programme.
P.D: Are you sure of what you are saying?
MUJOMBA: When did I become a joker?
P.D: Holy Jesus!
MUJOMBA: (Mujomba stands and starts pacing up and down) It’s a disaster my friend, it’s a disaster. My well brought up daughter, the perfect pastors daughter, and every parents dream child. How could she, how could she stab me like that? How could she rip off my heart so brutally? It seems just like yesterday, she would nestle on my laps as I read to her passages from the bible story, I would teach her songs and we would pray together. All this seems to be yesterday and yet I turn my face and attention for a second and she gets pregnant.
PD: Spilt the milk my colleague. We have to act fast and rectify the situation my friend
MUJOMBA:  Pastor David, I wish there was an easy way. I wish I could close my eyes, open them and realize that it was just a horrible nightmare. However, that remains but mere wishful thinking. I am fully awake, I am walking and breathing and living every other father’s nightmare.
P.D(Pastor David responds stands up and walks towards Mujomba. He lays his hand on Mujomba’s shoulder and speaks reflectively) I understand your pain Mujomba. However my friend we must try our best to salvage the situation the soonest possible. All is not lost; all is not lost my dear friend.
MUJOMBA: (he turns around and faces Mujomba) How could it not be Pastor David. This one scandal has potentially ruined my daughter’s future. Moreover, it’s like standing on quicksand; her reputation has gone down the drain and along with it mine too. A failed parent can’t stand in front of those people and offer any guidance.
PD:  I agree my friend; we have so much at stake. We can’t allow years of hard work go down the drain that easily. Maybe, just maybe we could use some herbs…you know
MUJOMBA: Please don’t tell me we are killing my daughter in this plot
PD: No my colleague (Silence) I mean she can accidentally miscarry….. There are herbs, things she can eat, you know……
MUJOMBA: I am a pastor for heaven’s sake
PD: We pull this off and manage to stifle a possible calamity
MUJOMBA: You must be crazy to even think about it David!
PD: The church would go!
MUJOMBA: No, no, I can’t!
PD: Kalekye’s scholarship gone
MUJOMBA: No I can’t!
PD: Years of hard work gone! Face it my friend, No Bishop Mujomba, no more church! No more. Face it my friend.
MUJOMBA: Stop the torture Pastor David!
PD: Someone has to make the tough call. Difficult decisions have to be made for the greater good Mujomba
MUJOMBA: It’s against the law.
PD: I didn’t know you were planning to tell the police
MUJOMBA: I don’t but…
P.D:  If we don’t her academic future is obviously ruined
MUJOMBA: There has to be another way out.
P.D: Face it Mujomba. It is the only way. If we don’t do that, there will be ramifications. For instance, How will you advice the youth?
MUJOMBA: (Defiantly) Not to be like my daughter
P.D: (articulating the words slowly) Moral authority. That is what you   are going to lose. You will lose moral authority pastor.
MUJOMBA: (Poses to think) what I am going to do? If she carries the pregnancy to term she would loose the scholarship and I… (Pauses) I loose moral authority as you call it.
If this accident you are talking about occurs, (Silence) my conscience, (Pauses) Pastor David, my conscience
P.D: (aside) the conniving fool still purports to a conscience (To Mujomba) What About it
MUJOMBA: I will never be the same again
PD: (aside) one could be fooled to think he is ever the same. He is a chameleon that may defy nature, to turn yellow when it lands on charcoal. (To Mujomba)  My dear friend, when the stakes are this high, you must up your game
MUJOMBA: Don’t we have any other way out?
PD: (Reflectively) Now that you insist ...yes there actually is another way out, close the church, run away from the congregation, dip your head in the sand and live happily ever after.
MUJOMBA: Oh, no, do you have to rub it in that way.
PD: We are wasting valuable time. Perhaps you should be talking to your wife…you know.
MUJOMBA: (looking at the hut) I can’t do that. How do I even think about planting the abominable idea in a stubborn head?
PD: Easy, easy Mujomba. After all she is your wife. You must push the right buttons (Imitating Mujomba, Pastor David raises his voice a note higher and calls Mbeke) Mbeke, we have to talk….
MUJOMBA: (interrupting) I am not ready to listen to any more of your jokes. Its either you assist me or I seek counsel else where
PD: Where? (Mujomba looks at him angrily) all right perhaps I should help you persuade your wife.
MUJOMBA: Really?
PD:  Maybe, just maybe, she might see sense if she is persuaded by two men of God.
MUJOMBA: When?
PD: How about now, it is ideal a time like any other
MUJOMBA: You mean now, as in now?
PD: We don’t have a lot of time. This thorn in the flesh…
MUJOMBA: Don’t start your rhetoric now. Could we at least make it this evening?
PD: Your way my friend. At least you know where it hurts.
MUJOMBA: alright, as for now I think I need some peace. I would need to go to the church.
Let’s go
 (Both men stand up and leave)






                                               SCENE: 2
The setting of this scene reflects a beautifully decorated church. The pews are arranged at least two metres apart. At the altar is a big beautifully crafted oak table. On the wall hangs a massive bronze crucifix. Mujomba is sitting on a chair near the altar. He paints an image of a deeply troubled man as he is engrossed in thoughts. He stands up slowly and starts walking in a dreamy manner towards the window.
MUJOMBA: (soliloquy) for a long time now, I would stand on this alter, stare at the laity and deliver a message of hope. I would be their comforter and a messenger of hope. Each member of my congregation would sit glue do their chair taking in the word. Today, as I stand on this alter, I can imagine the faces of disbelief. I can imagine the congregation condemning me, how I have failed them and from this I altar I will suffer a grave fall from grace. Who would have known? Who would really have guest that my only daughter who I am proud of would do this to me. I still feel the piercing stab of my wife’s words.
(At this point everything freezes. Slow music playing as we transition to the flashback. The setting shows earlier in the day. Mbeke is seen sweeping the compound. Mujomba on the other hand enters, whistling a hymn joyfully)
MUJOMBA: (speaking to Mbeke jokingly) hey, my in-laws daughter, it is almost noon and you are still sweeping
MBEKE: Seven in the morning is not that late baba Kalekye. Running after the goats is the problem. Once I open the door they all troop out running towards the shamba. Rounding them up is a real challenge.
MUJOMBA:  You should have called Kalekye to assist you. You have dotted so much on my daughter to the extent of spoiling her.
MBEKE: (she stops sweeping and walks close to her husband.) Baba Kalekye we need to talk. (she is hesitating and appears a bit nervous) Something has come up and we really need to talk now.
MUJOMBA: I am all ears, go on and I hope you will be through with your speech before noon.
MBEKE: (she takes his hand and leads him by the hand to a bench that is set under a tree) come Baba Kalekye, let’s sit here
MUJOMBA: (freeing his hand) Okay lady, I can walk, you don’t need to lead me by the hand like a toddler.
(both of them sit on the bench.)
MBEKE: (she looks around her nervously. The area around the tree definitely slowly) My husband I think this tree needs pruning. Look at all this leaves on my compound.
MUJOMBA: Did you bring me here to tell me about pruning a tree?
MBEKE: (very nervous now) No, not really my husband, actually it is a slight problem with our daughter
MUJOMBA: Do not tell me that she has flunked in school
MBEKE: it is just that, mmm…eehh…she is, you know
MUJOMBA: (he says this with a tinge of impatience) I don’t know, and can you for once stop mumbling as if you trying to swallow a hot piece of cassava.
MBEKE: it is just that, Kalekye missed her moon; (breaks down) Kalekye is pregnant
MUJOMBA: (He is in utter shock. Suddenly furious) What?
MBEKE: Baba Kalekye, she told me today. She is about two months gone
MUJOMBA: Kalekye…pregnant. (He stands up. Says this as he points at her furiously) Make peace with your God, for in the next few minutes, you will be a dead woman (he strides of angrily)
At this point we are brought back to the church. The flashback is over
Just three words, Kalekye is pregnant ruined my life entirely.
Kyalo enters the church carrying an empty water container. He is a sturdy eighteen year old boy. He notices Mujomba, smiles broadly and walks towards him. Mujomba also notice him as the footsteps have pulled him from his deep thoughts.
Come here my good boy, how are you
KYALO: I am fine pastor. It is only that I have to water the flowers.I am heading to the river right now
MUJOMBA: That is good my boy. You are very industrious.  Are you ready for the scholarship interview?
KYALO: I am a bit nervous about it but I am preparing; Reading a lot, though I am not certain what to read
MUJOMBA: fear not my son, as I told you despite academics, you need to prove to the interviewers that you are an exceptional and virtuous young man.
KYALO: (aside) if only he knew about me and Kalekye! (to Mujomba) I am trying pastor
MUJOMBA: I spoke to pastor David earlier today and he told me that the interviews are slated for next week so get ready. (Pastor David enters) Talk of the devil, Pastor David I was telling this young man to prepare for the interview.
PD: (shaking Kayla’s hand) Young man you must thank your lucky stars. This scholarship is bound to change your life forever
KYALO: Thank you pastor. As for now I have to get going, I have o fetch water from the river to water the flowers.
MUJOMBA: You are free to go young man. (Kyalo leaves) What a sterling young man. I wish I had one like him.
PD: He truly is a fine young man. I hope you are ready to face the matter
MUJOMBA: there is no getting ready Pastor David. This is weighty matter
PD: Mujomba I understand, but we must face it and rectify the wrongs
MUJOMBA: who would really have thought my young girl of yesterday would turn out like this? She was daddy’s girl just the other day. (Mujomba sinks into a reverie and flashes back to when Kalekye was six years old. flashback)
KALEKYE: (she is a young girl perched on her father lap playing with his beard) Daddy what is school
MUJOMBA: (lovingly) My sweet girl, school is where children go to learn how to sing, play and read
KALEKYE: But daddy I already know to sing and play
MUJOMBA: Daddy’s girl, but you don’t know all the songs in the whole wide world
KALEKYE: Then teach me daddy, I don’t want to go school, I want you to teach me.
(at this point Mbeke comes inand picks her)
MBEKE: Come little angel, you will be late for school
KALEKYE: (protesting) I don’t to go to school mummy, I already know songs and how to play
MBEKE: Do you want to wear the new dress daddy bought you?
KALEKYE: yes mummy I want to
MBEKE: let’s go then, that is your school uniform. You will wear it today
(The flashback is over and we are drawn to present day)
MUJOMBA: Pastor David it happens so fast, you can’t even notice as time flies by
PD: (PD nodes in agreement) Sure, sure pastor, time really flies
MUJOMBA:  (he stands up) alright pastor David, lets go home and face the matter at hand

(Both men leave the church)

Friday 8 July 2016

THE DINOSAUR MUSEUM

This poem addresses the threat that that poaching poses to our wild life

THE DINOSAUR MUSEUM …. S. K. KYENZE
The mighty Jumbo,
Adorned in regal splendor
Treads the African savannah
Draped in sheer glorious majesty
And the old matriarch trumpets
In the expansive Amboseli
African Savannah country.

Tsavo national park
The abode of the man-eaters, time past
That indelibly etched their place in history
With indelible marks of human blood
Men who encroached on their territory
Now decimated into a pale shadow
Of its glorious past.

Hear ye: the sorrowful grunting of the Rhino
Stubby feet flailing wildly
The callous poacher saws away at the erect horn,
Before the rhino is fully dead
Thinking of the crisp notes ahead
The buyer, thinking of the potent aphrodisiac
Embellished in the erect horn


Lands, rivers, lakes and oceans,
The abode of all fauna
Man has destroyed with wild abandon
The once earthly paradise
Broken, shattered, shattered into desolate pieces
Only the silent scream of agony
Splits the still dawn air.

For generations to come,
Let’s tame this insanity
Let’s save the white rhino,
Let’s rescue the mighty elephant
Let’s tame the downward spiral
Into the dinosaur museum.

Kyenze 11/05/2015


THE LAND OF SIMBA

THE LAND OF SIMBA 
I proudly dorn the Kenyan colours,
Proudly polish the achiever’s Insignia
From atop the tri-peaked Mt. Kenya
Wave the black, red, green and white
Mmmh, savouring the amazing pearl that Kenya is
The land of Simba.

Magical Kenya,
A hotbed of greatness!
A mother proud of her progeny,
Nobel peace prize- Professor Wangari Mathai,
Barrack Obama, to the U.S. on loan,
A  Javelin wheezes through the air-Julius Yego,
Ngugi wa Thiong’o- An icon among the literati,
Lupita  Nyong’o- the Oscars
Our dreams are valid,
Magical Kenya.

There goes the gong
A final Olympic lap
Jump-  a hurdle is cleared
Splash-goes the water jump
Hurdle, splash, hurdle, splash
One, two, three- a clean Kenyan sweep
Steeple chase glory.


Though almost anchored in perpetual stability,
Ignoble storms have rocked our yatch.
Lest we forget, Just lest we forget!
Likoni  ‘92, rivulets of blood!
Molo and laikipia, sorrow and hurt,
07/08, a tide of tears, animosity, blood and death!
Historically, linguistically, culturally- diverse we may be
Yet, one, Kenyans we are one nation
Let’s unite and forge ahead in unity.

Revel, proudly in the glory of 52 years of Uhuru,
A progressive constitution- promulgated in 2010,
Illiteracy and disease- conquered day by day
My Kenya, the land of simba,
Where devolution almost works.

One and all let’s stoke the embers
Embers of our forefathers’ dreams
A united Kenya,
A nation anchored in love and unity
Let’s proudly sing the anthem of patrioticism
“Tuungane pamoja, Tujenge taifa”
For Kenya, my Kenya
Is the land of simba.

********************END**********************************
By S.K. Kyenze 04/05/2016










The blacksmith and the ogre. (A Kamba narrative)

The Blacksmith and the ogre   (retold by S.K. Kyenze)
A very long, long, long time ago, long before history, when Kilungu hills were draped in lush vegetation, Among the Aombe clan, there lived the greatest blacksmith that the land had ever had. He was a master of his trade and was rumoured to have the blessings of the ancestors in his craft for he descended from a long lineage of blacksmiths. The hunters  said that his arrows were so skillfully  forged such that even if you  shot at a squirrel with your  eyes closed, you would never miss.
            Oh, and remember that this was a very long, long, long time ago. Kilungu, Nzaui and Mbooni hills had not yet attained puberty. The land was young and full of energy. Wild animals roamed all over and nobody was in lack. The people only hunted for and killed what they needed for food.
Now it happened that when Kilungu hills were young, just the age of an overzealous
he- goat full of raging hormones, The Akavi  (A war like tribe)  attacked. Now the Akavi were cattle herders and they would raid the cattle of the Akamba people. The Akamba would then launch a counter attack. Now this time round, they attacked the Atangwa clan. The Atangwa clan had settled near the Akavi people. It was so close that actually whenever you asked them about the distance from their settlement to the land of the Akavi, you would always without fail be told, ‘no vaa mbee’  (It is just nearby). They were so close to the Akavi, only a two days walking distance.
Before they could launch a counter attack, they send emissaries to the greatest Mutui with a solemn message,
“Mutui, the Akavi have attacked and raided our cattle. We have heard of the great craftsmanship with which you make your arrows. Would you please come to our settlement and make for us arrows before we launch a counter attack. For your troubles, we shall reward  you handsomely.” They said.
            Now, it was common practice in those days for a neighbour to assist a neighbor. ‘kwitika mbu’ Unlike today that greed and selfishness have seeped into our marrows and settled in the core of our humanity.  Mutui being a very great man and also thinking perhaps of the possibility of earning a number of cattle, he readily obliged.
            “Mbu ya mutui yiikiawa.  No nginya ngavika nitike mbu.” (A neighbour’s  cry for help must be heeded. I must do my due) He answered.  So, early the next morning, long before ‘Muthoonzwe’ (weaver bird) could start chirping in the most melodious a voice it could only sing. When you could not differentiate tree stumps from hyenas, Mutui and the emissaries left for their home so as to make the best arrows he only could make.
            They walked, walked, walked, up the hills, down into the valleys, through forests, across rivers until at dusk they arrived at the settlement of the Atangwa people. Mutui was welcomed very well and given the best hut in the chief’s compound. He was very tired and after the evening meal, he went to sleep immediately. Early the next morning, he woke up and started on the work of setting up his forge. He was assisted by the young warriors of the village and by the time sweet potatoes and porridge were being served for breakfast, the clang, clang of a heavy hammer and  pounding and shaping red hot metal on anvil could be heard from a distance. He worked tirelessly, from dawn to dusk with the salty sweat of his brow forming rivulets on his intense face. He could taste brine every time a stray drop of sweat wandered into his mouth, but he kept on working. This went on for two weeks.  He had made not only sizeable numberof arrows, but also a product to be marveled at. They were the best arrows that the Atangwa people had ever seen.
            Now Mutui had left his wife heavy with child. While he was away, toiling, sweating, heaving and panting as he made arrows for the Atangwa people, his wife’s water broke and she went into labour. It was late at night and she was alone. It was a painful process of labour as the pain intensified with each contraction. As the contractions became more and more intense, Mutui’s wife almost exhausted and on the verge of surrender, an ogre (yiimu) that was scavenging for food heard her cries.They were horrendous sounds to the ear, a woman in great pain. The Ogre tiptoed to the window and listened. It heard Mutui’s wife make a final push and a few seconds later , the cry of a new born baby split the still air of the night. The ogre rushed into the house very quickly. It knew the woman was too weak to scream for help. He put her together with the baby and everything else in the granary in an ogre sized bag it had and took her to his home deep in the forest.
            Everyday the ogre would make food and instead of giving her some of it, it ate all of it save for some morsels to keep her alive as he waited for a better day to eat her too. Now, One day, it so happened that, while the ogre was away,  Mutui’s wife saw  a dove perched on a nearby tree. She started singing to the dove and gave her message to deliver husband,
                        Mutui uu ukutuaa saangalala I sa
                        Mukau nusyaie I saaangalala I  sa
                        Avyuviiwe ni yiiimu I saangalala I sa
                        Yisi kuya na kwivua, saaangalala I sa  X2

            Blacksmith working  saaangalala I sa
Your wife has given  birth saaangalala I sa
The ogre nurses her saaangalala I sa
But it serves and eats all the food saaangalala I sa
The dove flew away immediately in her heart, the woman’s sorrow and plight weighing her down like a tone of rocks. It flew, flew, up hills, down valleys, across rivers, flew through forests until she came to the land o the Atangwa. Working in his makeshift forge, sweat dripping off his brow, his jaw set, muscles taut, she saw Mutui, the blacksmith.
            Upon spotting him, the dove descended and perched on a low hanging branch. It cooed in that gentle way dove way it could only coo. As it cooed to clear its throat, it caught the blacksmiths attention. Mutui laid down his tools of trade and listened to the dove. The dove broke into song as instructed
Mutui uu ukutuaa saangalala I sa
            Mutkau nusyaie I saaangalala I  sa
            Avyuviiwe ni yiiimu I saangalala I sa
            Yisi kuya na kwivua, saaangalala I sa  X2
On hearing that melodious voice deliver such an urgent message , Mutui abandoned his work immediately and like an arrow sped towards home. He ran, ran, ran and ran. All the while the dove flew over his head singing the same song
Mutui uu ukutuaa saangalala I sa
            Mutkau nusyaie I saaangalala I  sa
            Avyuviiwe ni yiiimu I saangalala I sa
            Yisi kuya na kwivua, saaangalala I sa  X2

Everytime he heard the dove coo above him, a flood of adrenaline pulsated through his veins pushing him harder, up hills, down valleys, across rivers. He ran at a blinding speed. Upon sensing his agony and dedication the birds of the forest joined him. From tree to tree as they flew the chirping was the same
Mutui uu ukutuaa saangalala I sa
            Mutkau nusyaie I saaangalala I  sa
            Avyuviiwe ni yiiimu I saangalala I sa
            Yisi kuya na kwivua, saaangalala I sa  X2

The land animals not to be left behind joined the race. The elephant trumpeted, the lions roared, the cheetahs of the land set the pace as the buffaloes stampeded  ahead of him clearing all obstacles. Even the might verocious reptile that the crocodile was, ferried him across the river as the rains had fallen upstream and the water were ranging at a murderous rate. Flash floods.
            When Mutui arrived home, he went for his special arrows ,  man, weren’t they good! Arrows that had been laced with the most potent of medicine by the village medicine man. These were not your every day arrows. They were arrows that would wheeze round corners, arrows that would fly off the hands of Mutui like heat seeking missiles with the full glory and spleandour of magic tracing paths in the air.
Meanwhile, the villagers had heard the singsong of the birds of the sky and had come armed to Mutuis home. Ten brave warriors were selected immediately and off they went with only one thing in their heads. Operation kill ogre.
Now the ogre lived in the dense of forests.  They traced their path as the dove sang for them
Mutui uu ukutuaa saangalala I sa
            Mutkau nusyaie I saaangalala I  sa
            Avyuviiwe ni yiiimu I saangalala I sa
            Yisi kuya na kwivua, saaangalala I sa  X2

And the buffaloes of the land stampeded ahead of them.
They ran, panting, up hills, down valleys, waded across rivers. They ran, ran, ran , and at last they found themselves in a big clearing. At the centre of the clearing there stood a very big hut. Ogre size. The door was the size of a fully grown eucalyptus tree. The windows the size of a fully grown Tsavo elephant.
            All of a sudden the very ground they stood on started shaking, shaking, shaking and then a very big ogre appeared . It had one eye that glowed in a red pepper like fury. Its arms where like huge trunks hewn off massive Meru Oak trees. Arms so hairy with the hairs the length of sisal ropes. Then foot long.

            All the brave warriors readied their bows and ‘pap’ released the arrows. Twenty y arrows wheezed  through the air and landed on the ogres body. Lo and behold the ogres skin was as hard as rock. All what the arrows did was to create sparks and chinks as they fell off the impenetrable fortress that the ogre’s skin was. The infuriated ogre growled and roared as it uprooted trees in fury and wild abandon.The brave warriors  aimed and released  arrow after arrow until their quivers were empty
            Now, the warriors stood there trembling, quaking and sweating for all its worth.  The menacing ogre advanced, advanced, advanced and it was about to trample on them or do what infuriated ogres do when Mutui took his special arrows. The arrows were laced in such a potent medicine that they would  read his innermost and true desirers, pure thoughts and good will and execute them. He drew this bow and ‘pap’ released the arrow. The arrow traced a clear path in the air in them carrying a message to seek  for the ogre’s weakness and exploit it. The arrow wheezed through the air and headed straight for the crimson red orb that the ogre had for an eye . The ogre’s red eye was it weakness, like a crack in a fortress.
Bull’s eye. The arrow hit its target letting off flares of sheer magic and unbridled power. The ogre screamed  in a wild roar, loud and heart rending. All of a sudden it started shrinking in size. It grew small, small, smaller, smaller and at last it stood at ten foot, before it collapsed in a heap. Dead!

Mutui’s wife ran out of the house  with her small bundle of joy, a baby  boy  in her arms smothered in nothing but unfathomable love. Shedding tears of both joy and relief as her sorrows ebbed away, she fell into Mutui’s arms, holding perhaps, just perhaps, the next Mutui in a long traceable lineage of blacksmiths.

@S. K Kyenze