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