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
