Chapter 3

    Men and women together with their youngsters toddling behind them walked towards the clan-shrine, an enormous ng'ow tree at the bank of River Awach. Octogenarians who held the tribes customs tightly in their brains trudged downstream, along the meandering footpaths in the forests, on both sides of the river. But the morning appeared to be sullen due to the contradictions and confusions posed by the new faith.

    Long before, all folks in this clan had dwelt together, united by a common faith. Nobody had ever thought of committing any traitorous tort against the traditions of the society. However, when the Blue-eyed made their way into Seme, people who had lived a cultured way of life began drifting into sin one by one. Perhaps they had not fully comprehended what the new faith meant or, as the remaining conservatives now held, they had been beguiled into it. But one day everything would become as open as day unto these people. The Blue-eyed seemed to have killed almost everything in the great rebellion, not just warriors, nor customs, nor religion, nor their indigenous education system, nor community leadership, nor land... everything. And now even most recently, their human strength.

     Each day opened into a new epic, from a new system of governance in place to a new faith gaining momentum. Many thought the Blue-eyed had magic in their cases. Even though they came carrying their cultus in one hand and what they referred to as 'civil governance' in the other, the former was accepted by many with greater alacrity than the latter. A large number of people rejected the new system of governance. No one was however heard speaking about it openly. They feared. Surely, who would be willing to wage war against magicians who killed by sparks of fire? It was therefore not alarming when their most trusted war leader accepted the bowed enticement of the Blue-eyed. Nobody blamed him. After all, it was a matter of saving oneself from the claws of death. A few cultural relicts, composing mainly of the old, however, managed to survive and carry on with the clan's traditions. And these were the very ones who made their way to the river to consult with their supernatural being and wilfully pay homage to him. 

    When they arrived at the shrine, they found the pious Osayo kneeling before the big tree in the mid of an atonement entreaty. It seemed he was pleading, on behalf of his nation, for their redress. The believers entered the traditional shrine, which was an enclosed groove with trees on every side and the ng'ow tree at the middle, and sat down on dried logs in complete silence. 

    When Osayo completed his petitions before the shrine, he slowly stood up and turned to his fellow believers. His looks were stern and his forehead cracked into a double-u. He was often cranky, especially since the intrusion of the Blue-eyed. He looked at his people menacingly as if some of them were about to escape his bounds. He had sworn to himself not to allow anymore betrayal. He stared at the believers as a father does to his children when he suspects that one might have splintered life anchors. 

    Finally, he spoke. "Many thanks to Nyasaye. And the believers replied in unison, "Many thanks to him.

    "Thank you-all for revering this day. A lot has transpired in our clan, but you, my people, the people whom I treasure most, have remained loyal to our faith." He tried to contain himself in his speech, but a tink of fury manifested itself in his cracking voice. When he realized he could no longer hold onto his self-composure, he opted to going the freeway. Anyway, the issue of rebellion was a million-shilling question to every acute-minded conservative. So he went on and hit right onto it.

    "Dear brothers and sisters, you all know about the rising protest against our beautiful intrinsic African deism which has lasted for millions of years. As a matter of fact, Im really wondering where the Blue-eyed have dug up their nonsensical beliefs from. They are ruining our people with the madness of a god having a dead son. What a hodgepodge! And that thing, that thing um the one they call er yeah, baibo which contains all the hocus-pocus they use to win our slow-witted folks. It really hurts me, dear folks. 

     He stopped and threw his looks at the gulch of the roaring river. The ravine had become hollow and deep, and the slopes on both sides were steep, rough and death-calling, but the water hurtled down the thick forest like an antelope escaping its predator. It was hard to believe such a huge change, for no mortal could now dare stump its feet on the river bank. The area around the river, which had once been beaming with the liveliness of cattle and people rattling and romping, was now lonely and confounding, except for the main water-drawing points.

    "I think Nyasaye should teach them a lesson, one old man broke the silence. 

    "Lets give them a chance, and learnt from them, brothers. There's actually a lot to gain than to lose, said Ogola.

    "No way! A chance? After telling on our faith? Over my dead body. Look at the shrine... the ravine here... we've lost almost everything into their hands!" charged Osayo, staring maliciously at his brother.

    "I think Ogola is secretly planning for rebellion. Why else would he opt for even a dogs chance to relate with these wicked people. Oh! Too bad! a man in a red suit put in.

    Ogola stood up and explained, You see, my people, I dont see any oddity in the new faith. You are here confronting the Blue-eyed, yet you are the very ones who have accepted their culture. Shame on you." The congregants began to murmur.

    "Hey! What in tarnation is that supposed to mean?" frained Osayo.

    "I mean, look at the clothes we are all putting on; are they not an intricate indication of the full acceptance of civilization?

    "Stop! Stop that you angler of cyprinids. Sit down," ordered Osayo, throwing his hands into the air. The congregants laughed and continued to murmur as though they were dissatisfied with something. "Do you think you're smarter than our forefathers who made the traditions and gave us this place to assemble and worship? The fact that you're my brother doesn't give you the liberty to talk rubbish in front of this great tree. Nyasaye might punish you for such an obloquy against our faith." 

    "Oh really? I'm sorry to say that I rebelled a century ago," Ogola harped on. "And don't scare me with such a load of baloney about this rustic and antiquated religion." Everyone was astonished and held their mouths into their palms. "Traitor! Traitor! Traitor!" a group at the back yelled. Osayo remained quiet.

    "This religion is going down in the flames, and by the time it burns completely, most of you will be even ashamed of talking about it. This old bastard is lying to you that you are going to find solace from the Blue-eyed's brutality in this empty shade? He himself is a hypocrite who slept with..."

    Osayo could no longer hold onto his patience. "Stop!" he cried out infuriated. "Are you done with cursing this place? What a whole-hearted acrimony! May madness strike you for profaning our faith and causing disruptions to our worship under the Long-lasting Tree." Ogola grunted and frowned as he sat down. Osayo turned and, directly facing the huge tree, prayed: "Nyasaye - the owner of the Long-lasting Tree - the spirits of Ramogi and of our forefathers, I beseech you to intervene in this matter at stake. This little boy, Ogola, has spoken blasphemous words against our heritage, against our faith, and against you, the author of the universe. May you spoil his fettle and torment his body so that it may be understood that you are living and more powerful than everyone else, than all sorcerers. May you ruin his family and bring down his possession. Accept my petition, oh our divine creator, the divine spirits of our warriors fallen in the war and our ancestors long dead." And then turning to the believers, he concluded, "And may Nyasaye be exalted above all creatures... . They all roared back in unison, "All the days and forevermore."

     Osayo lifted the religious gourd and hit it against the trunk of the huge tree thrice and then did the same on the ground. The avid congregation waited in silence. A cool breeze blew across the ground and above them who stood as far as a hundred meters away from the shrine. They quickly stood up and bowed respectfully to the Long-lasting Tree. Then they began hailing the names of their dead warriors. Osayo mentioned the names in quick succession while the women made ululations and the men and children shouted 'hail'. Great names such as Ajwang', Ramogi, Owiny, Nyamgondho, Magere, Ogalo, Apala, Apinja, Obura, Okumba, Seme, Bala, Dipirr, Gumba, Obita, Okelo, Dinga and Julu could be heard along with many others. 

    When the shouting died down, women brought their gourds of kong'o (traditional liquor) into the shrine. Osayo poured one full gourd onto the ground as a form of libation and a sign of tenacious connection with the dead. He then dipped a dry orengo (caudal appendage) into the liquor flowing on the ground and sprinkled it onto the people. He went on to explain the importance of such a connection with the past and, equally, amongst themselves. 

    "My people, we have to stick together and clench onto our traditions like ticks onto a caprid's skin. Nyathi kimirwa ok wene thuolo e ot (a bastard is not given freedom in the house). My people, do not allow the Blue-eyed to tamper with our ways of life. We are a cultured people and our culture is beautiful, you know. Yes, and culture is what defines a person - not diversity. You also know that Nyasaye is living and powerful. This tree - the same tree where our forefathers worshipped Nyasaye - will forever remain our emblem of unity and religion. It is the dwelling place of Nyasaye. And whoever speaks blasphemous words against this ever-ever tree or anything connected with it will meet the wrath of its owner in the fullness of time! Kapok kamlar olungo wang'i to ok ding'ee owruokne (before pepper burns your eye, you will never know its hotness). Do not, therefore, rush into accepting quaint customs and beliefs just because of these little items they give you; I tell you, they will most assuredly discommode you one day. My people, if we let such frivolities broaden into the future, then I can see a community of impious and befuddled people. So we all need to take care, you see?"     

    After his jeremiad-like speech, Osayo invited one of the elders to conclude the sermon with a short prayer, and people broke away to their homes.

    It was about midday and the scorching sunrays made the elderly fatigued. They held their walking-sticks and, avoiding much talks, plodded to their homes. The sky was as clear as mountain crystal and the atmosphere calm, except for the voices of converts crooning and humming hymns and praises into the air every single minute. 

     Christianity was soaring deep into Seme Clan, and there were lots of converts everywhere. A catholic church building had already been erected on the other side of the river, several kilometers from the side where Osayo lived, and the old man did not like it. It was a branch of the main Mission church in Kisuma led by Father Shem and overseen by the Blue-eyed's government through the provincial commissioner, Dr. Hobley. The number of converts on that clan-side was higher than everywhere else. Led by their representative, Omolo, the converts tendered their loyalty like one flock of sheep to the church's leadership. They paid tithes and offerings from the wages of their hard work on the Blue-eyed's cotton and maize plantations, and still remained to submit themselves to various activities at the church whenever they were required. It was what the new faith had offered them. 

                                       ***

     Osayo was polygamous and interested in having as many children as he could. He had four wives. Three of them were good at bearing children, but the fourth had a problem - she gave birth to either stillborns or premature babies who died instantly. Osayo could not put up with this puzzling situation onto which his wife was glued by nature. He held the belief that the only way to deal with exiguity was to have as many children as possible. In fact, he had felt elated when he heard that the Blue-eyed's religion tolerated the bearing of many children. But he grew to hate the whole thing for many other reasons. Whenever he heard someone talking about it, many questions about marriage clouded his mind. There is that bit that kept him hooked to the wall; how could a god have a human son yet the same god had no wife? He was contented with the provisions of his religion. 

     Osayo loved his three wives so much, but the fourth called Awino he gave a cruel heart. He would go in with her only twice a moon. This made her feel bitter and, over the years, gave her the thoughts of joining the new faith to seek consolation to her burning soul. Nonetheless, she was filled with the apprehension of being divorced or castigated. She knew how Osayo was deeply entrenched into the traditions of the clan and would give no second thought to rebels. 

    One day, Osayo called Awino into his hut and decided to rub a little salt into her wound. 

     "My wife, as you can see, I love you so much, and would like you to live a happy life. You know this telling: there's no happy marriage without children." 

     Awino felt embarrassed and stared blankly at the floor. She remembered what Nyowila had told her many years ago amid complaints - "He has no appetite for you, girl; don't bother my son." - and knew that she actually had no place in his heart. She also reminisced how he had sternly demanded a child from her. Now, was she a goddess to mold a child? She felt her heart palpitate with both pain and anxiety. If only he knew what she had known about him, he would not go on yelping about his feigned love for her. 

      "I've thought about it for quite a long time," he spoke on, "and I've come to a conclusion that we should visit Okungu." Okungu! Did she just hear him mention that name? It took her aback. Okungu was a sorcerer. Since her childhood, she had never seen a sorcerer perform their crafts in both her birth and marital homes. Neither had she thought of taking that long shot in life before. 

    "A sorcerer?" she exclaimed jumping up from her seat. Unknown strength had just surged through her veins like a woman in labour pain, making her puke the word like bitter concoction. 

     "Yes! Did you not just hear me say so?" said Osayo. "And why are you jumping up like a mad toad?" Only then did it occur to her that she had acted the goat. "What a nuisance!" she thought as she returned to her seat. 

    "I'm so sorry, my lord," she implored for forgiveness.

    "Well. Tell me nothing other than aye. Should we not see him?" 

    She thought for a while and then replied, "I'm sorry... ." 

    "Stop! Don't you listen to instructions? I said say nothing except a yes!" 

    "No, my lord. I'm sorry I can't." 

    What a forward reply! It sank into his heart and hit him for six. Awino was happy for making no bones about her stand, but she was also afraid of losing her remote dignity. Osayo thought for some time and then spoke again. "Well. Then in that case, pack your belongings and be off as early as the first cock crow tomorrow." He said that calmly and rested back into his reed-made chair. She had expected that of course, but its reality sent cold into her arteries. 

    "O my lord! Why? Please have mercy on me and... ." 

    "Save your breath, woman. It's too late. Stop that yelp and get the cunt out of my hut." 

    Awino froze back and, weeping bitterly, found her way out of the hut. It was late in the evening but the sky seemed to be more gloomy and the atmosphere more despondent than ever to this unfortunate woman. 

    The following day, exactly at the first cock crow, she left her marital home for her ancestral home in Ahero. And as she opened the gate, she whispered into the silence, "Though Nyasaye of the Long-lasting Tree does not hearken to people's misadventures in life, maybe that of the Blue-eyed does. If only they would accept the less fortunate like me, then I... ." The wind swept away the rest of her words as she vanished into the numbing morning cold. 

                                   ***

    That afternoon, Osayo was seated in the shade of a huge powo tree in his homestead sucking Kong'o from his personal gourd using a bamboo stick, when he saw an old man coming up from his gate. Trailing behind the old man was a young man about seventeen seasons old. 

    "Odalo! There you are, age-mate," Osayo beamed with elation when the old man had drawn near. 

    "Bright morning," greeted Odalo, appearing to be a little more serious than Osayo had expected. 

    "Very bright morning, Odalo. Welcome to my palace." And he stood up in respect. A child ran to the spot with a stool, placed it in the shade, bowed and left. 

     "Haha. Palace! Did you just say so? Huh. Quite a good flatter," said Odalo sitting on the stool. Osayo returned to his seat. He picked up another bamboo stick, dipped it into the gourd and extended its other end to Odalo. "Welcome, brother. Welcome," he said. Odalo held the stick into his mouth and began to suck. "You're asking about my palace? Yes. I have for myself a small palace here... you can surely see. Anyway, what are you up to this afternoon? You seem to be on a serious duty, I guess." 

    "Not literally. I just decided to pay you a visit. How's the mother of people and people?" 

    "They are well, except... er... they are well. And yours?" 

    "Mine are okay too. I can guess something isn't right." 

    "No. It's all right with me. Is anything the matter with you?" He put in quickly.

    "No, just in my crazy doubts." 

    Meanwhile, the young man had arrived at the spot and was standing a few paces away waiting to be recognized and beckoned as was the custom those days. A small glaring had also gathered up at the spot as a sign of an oddity. Osayo threw his looks at the young man. He was carrying a small rectangular object in one hand and another strange object in another. Osayo wondered what the two things could be. Maybe the young man would explain better. He beckoned him to draw near. The man moved closer to them. 

    "Who are you and what are you doing in my compound?" asked Osayo. 

    "I am Denis Onyango from Kisumu Mission Center. The Blue-eyed have sent me to you through your chief, Odhiambo Ondu, to bring you these gifts." He handed the two objects to Osayo. 

    "And to whom, may I ask, have they sent you by name? And... how could you have just known him this easily?" 

    "The name of the referee is Osayo Onyona, and I guess that's none other than you." 

     "Look at me, you scamp. Don't you see there are two old men seated here? How have you known I am the referee? And who is that cow who directed you to this palace?" Osayo was losing his cool.

    "I beg you to calm down, jaduong' (elder). Well, your chief did it all. He described you so vividly and gave me a clear direction to your place. Besides, this other jaduong' has just arrived here right now; he can't surely be you." 

    "Is that all? And what is this?" asked Osayo holding up the rectangular object. 

    "That's a Bible." 

    "Ooooh! So this is the 'baibo' they use to ruin our men and women! Ha! Who said I wanted to be a sorcerer? Anyway, take it back to them. Tell them we've heard of it and do not need it for even a second." He dropped the Bible at the man's feet. "And this - what is it?" 

    "That's a letter." 

    "Mmh! 'Aleta'? What's 'aleta'? Is it another talisman?" 

    "Ooh! A letter is a written piece of paper," explained Denis, "containing a message for the receiver." Osayo looked at him as if he was a ghost standing in front of him. "I will read if you don't mind," requested Denis, reaching out his hand for the piece. But Osayo declined. 

    "Allow him to read it for you. Sure, you can't read it, age-mate," intervened Odalo. Osayo thrust the letter into the young man's palm. "Go ahead," he said. 

    Denis opened the envelope and took out the letter-piece. He unfolded it and read (it was written in the local language): "Dear Priest Osayo Onyona, a warning is hereby given to you to stop harassing converts in the region. It's been reported that you have colluded with the clan's youth to prevent converts from using the river and moving about freely. You have therefore been issued a warning to desist from such operations as they jeopardise the freedom and security of the converts. Failure to do so will resul... ."

   A-ah! Stop, stop threatening me," Osayo cut him off, now clearly flying off the handle. "Have you found me speaking with a youth here? I am resting in my palace, and you, a messenger of doom, come to me with a threat. Look. Take your fetishes and leave. I say leave. Now!" He leered at him. Panicking, Denis stooped and picked up the Bible. Go away, young witch! boomed Osayo. He turned and walked away, feeling disappointed and embarrassed

   Hahaha. You got hold of him, age-mate," said Odalo laughing. You're not easy. They think we are too naïve to be easily hoodwinked. No giving in to threats anymore, we have to do what we can do to protect our culture." 

    "Yes, and they must not cross our paths with their immoral beliefs," asserted Osayo. 

    "No. They must not. Anyway, let it go. You have done twice what I could have done. You have killed the messenger and left the sender. Hahaha... . Well, there's something. Have you... have you heard of what happened to our traitorous brother?" 

    "Who?" 

    "Ah! You don't have a mind like a sieve, do you?" He laughed. 

    "You know what? I keep numerous irons in the fire every day and I am bound to forget. I'm human. Besides, a lot has transpired in the past few days. Are you referring to Omolo?" 

    "No. Your brother. Ogola." 

    "Oh! That rascal. I don't care... . What's happened to him?" 

    "He lost his sanity last night. You mean you've been in the dark?" 

    "Who would have told me?" 

    "Has the priest forgotten that his brother's home is only a stone-throw away from his? Besides, I thought your wives and children know about this." 

    "So you think they would have told me? Those bimbos know nothing apart from the bed. And the children are always preoccupied with lots of errands." 

    "Maybe they only can't withstand the terrifying looks of the lion." 

    "Actually, they must not. Mmm... finally. Nyasaye of the Long-lasting Tree has done it. He is powerful! I told him he would meet his wrath. Let it be a lesson to everyone." 

    "And I hear he is now frightening village kids. Please have mercy. Intervene." 

    "No. Not unless hell turns cold." 

    "But please... ." 

    "What? Have they sent you to me? Is that what brought you here, to plead on their behalf? Look, go and plead with the spirits. Do you know the elucidations behind the supernormal qualifications of that tree? That was the sacred veneration ground of our progenitors. And they had always vowed amid sacrifices that the tree would last forever. Nothing will change this, boy - not even the magic works of the Blue-eyed. And whoever speaks any profanity against the tree or anything related to it shall not live in the ordinary world. At least you should have known."

    "Good. Is that all about it?" 

    "Yap. And you know what? That is something many people do not know, and I'm afraid, apparently, including you." 

    "Okay. I understand. Now I plead to leave. It's getting late." 

    "Getting late? Do you prepare meals or look after infants? " 

    "Oh! You seem to be... ." 

    "Well, in that case you are at liberty to leave." 

    "I have to go and help with the cattle, you know." 

    "All right. See you any time tomorrow then. Make sure you pass my greetings to the mother of people and people."

    "I'll have to." The two stood up and while they shook their hands, Osayo observed, "Mmm-mh. Why is your countenance fallen? Just because I told you I can't do anything about my brother's insanity? Well, I know they sent you to plead on their behalf. But still, I can't do anything about it, age-mate."

     "OK. Goodbye." He picked up his stick and walked away as Osayo returned to his seat.