In a far distant land……many stories would start…..there
lived one notorious boy ….I guess this was aimed at me but also intended to
serve as a warning to anyone else who might dare similar adventures.
Life in the village was ‘divided’ into two compartments so
to say, day and night, during the day it was all about work. Everyone was
expected to give a helping hand in the daily household chores. In almost every
family and especially where I came from, cooking was a girl’s designated assignment
while jobs like looking after animals was left for the boys. I should say that, this was the common
pattern but it was bound to change from one family to another depending on
their situations.
Having been raised in a farming community it would be during
the twilight window that we would start heading home for the evening. Boys
would bring the animals from the field to be milked while men would be seen
gathering their farm tools in preparation for heading home. Girls and women
would be gathering firewood and fetching water in readiness for the night. This
was one of the most dramatic hour of the day as everything that needed done before
the end of the day was to be done in a crucible of immediacy for one obvious
reason---the window between sunset and darkness is pretty small. Those children
who left their work till the last minute found it really rough for the rest of
the night.
As the darkness engulfed the earth the once vibrant village came
to standstill as people headed back to their houses ushering deep silence
throughout a vast region. Any shout made on one end of the village would travel
far and wide. Families gathered around the fire as members caught up with each
others on their daily activities. If by any chance children failed to finish
their delegated work and their parents happen to be in bad moods then hell
would break loose. At certain nights, the cries of children coming from
different homes as their parents administered discipline in their best ways
possible would be like an orchestrated music performed spontaneously from
different locations. Ooooooiiiii, ng’iiiii,acha acha all adding to different
effects to the music.
African culture is
largely oral in nature and stories intended for history, entertainment or for a
particular lesson would be relayed when families gathered together. It is a culture that is very rich in
proverbs, riddles, fables, legends, myths, figures of speech dealing with
nature, agriculture and such. Depending on the subject matter parents would
retell, create imaginary stories or coin the already existing ones to suit
their motive. More significantly, the stories are intended to stress on the consequences of a certain behaviour. What
an excellent time to share them than a time when food was simmering in the pots
or sufurias as we used to call them as everyone waited eagerly for the meal.
This was the place and time that the African child would get extra
coaching after school like mannerism in terms of how girls ought to seat, eat,
respect for the elders among others would be taught and where necessary
demonstrated.
Among many stories lies one that captured my young mind and
stayed there till today---I guess it served the intended purpose. I have never
bothered to investigate the origin of the story or whether it was a mere fabrication
by our mum and dad. They told us this
story at different times and location and coincidentally whenever they did so
one of them would be absent. Whether
that was a ploy employed to make us believe it was true, am yet to establish or
should I say too late to do so.
The story goes that there lived a mysterious woman who
roamed about during the night. Her name was Wambui Kihuruti. In terms of her
physique she held features close to an ogre; one eye on the forehead and two on
the back and had three fingers on each hand. She spoke in a woman’s voice but
her body was manly built. She breathed fire from her mouth and nostrils and
would only be seen at night. Those who had an encounter with her said that she
carried strange paraphernalia wherever she went but two items were identified
by every victim who happened to have been caught up in the ordeal—a fork and a
spoon.
It is said that her work was to catch rebellious children
and especially those that walked during the night. First if she got hold of
such children she would let out a shriek accompanied by fire and out she would
reach for her operational tools and performed her activity in a very methodical
process. With her spoon she would crudely scoop out her victim’s teeth to the
last bit. Next she would get out her fork with a grin on her face and using her
three fingers she would gouge the eyes out one after the other. Having
accomplished her mission she would leave to her mysterious village.
Having heard this same story again and again I had vowed
within myself that I will avoid night outs. To this day I still fear darkness
and more so watching films that are horror in nature which was as a result of
being subjected to them in form of stories at very tender age!