It tends to be very frustrating when, on the morning of an event, something big happening, your favourite suit doesn’ t fit you. Your only suit actually. The purple suit that I had mesmerized people in at weddings and other functions. It’ s even more painful when the important functions happen so far apart, and when it falls on your lap like it did on this day, and I was not ready.
That morning is when I knew I should have checked on the suit. The last time I had worn it was at this wedding where someone burned the bride’s dress [A broken Pot. ] It had been two years since. All the suit was doing was sitting there and gathering dust and mold. Dust and mold were not a big deal, all you had to do was slap it or something and you are good to go. What was worrying was that I couldn’t fit in. If one hand went in, which reached just at the elbow, the other one couldn’t. I had outgrown it, I accepted. It was time to pass it on to the next generation.
I had grown big. I was becoming a teenager and that’s just what teenagers do – grow big. This was also a time when everything passed as food. You’d eat at your house and still go to your neighbour’ s house with lips looking like they were soaked in ash just so they can also give you food. Then from there, you go eat all the guavas from one of the many trees with the excuse of ‘if I don’t eat them, the birds will’ as if birds eating guavas is a bad thing.
I didn’ t like the shirt my grandfather gave me to wear that morning. It was too big. When I tucked in, I looked like a balloon. The collar was worn out and faded from years of being worn and washed. I couldn’t tell which colour it was now. All I know is it used to be blue, like the sky when the sun is happy and there are no clouds. I don’t remember which pair of trousers I wore but they were equally bad. This is when I remembered that during that period, I was either in school uniform or in some home clothes looking after the cows. The only thing that redeemed my looks was this pair of safari boots I had never worn before. One of my uncles had left them, and we just happened to be the same size: but only after I had stuffed some things in the shoe.
I looked big, like someone very important. I was told that my role was the most important, after all.
Someone, I can’ t remember who exactly, was taking cows to the girl’s parents so that he could marry her.
“It’s like he is going to ask for permission to marry her,” my grandfather explained when I asked but that didn’ t make any sense because the said man and the woman were already living together and they had four kids! It was even more confusing when they said the man isn’t even supposed to go. I wondered how he will ask for permission to marry the girl if he is not there.
That morning, my job wasn’t to know these things, so I stopped trying to know. I stopped asking questions. I stopped wondering. My job was to hold the ropes of the cows as we walked the ten or so kilometres to the girl’s village. I was the ropes guy. My job was to ensure that the cows get there. We crossed rivers, went down valleys and up hills. I was tired. The only thing that kept me going was the food they had promised when we get there. They said there will be so much food that we didn’ t even need to eat breakfast when leaving. Halfway through, I wished I had breakfast.
This is when I knew adults don’t know how to make decisions especially when food is involved.
We get there sweaty ; embarrassingly sweaty . You shouldn’t ever arrive at a place where you are going to ask permission to marry a girl when you are that sweaty. Maybe this is why they didn’ t want the man who was actually taking the girl to come.
I tied the cow expertly at a tree near the gate then we washed our hands as we went into the house. The door was to the house was so low everyone was bowing when they were getting in. I think they build their house like that so that people don’t have an option but to bow as a sign of respect as they enter. The walls were decorated with newspapers from one end to another. One headline read ‘President Moi has fired the minister for Agriculture.
We found tea on the table already, then other many things started following suit. Bread, potatoes, yams, mandazi e. t.c. When food is brought, you are supposed to eat in a way that shows you are not afraid of food. So I ate . I started with things that are not normally at home, like bread. Then went to things that come once in a while, like mandazi. Then when they said that they’ re not supposed to return anything to the kitchen, I ate some more . Now the potatoes, arrow roots and the other things I was used to.
I was already full but at this point, I was eating to be respectful – after all, it’s them who said they aren’ t supposed to return any food to the kitchen. I looked at the adults and they seemed like they had no respect. Apart from a couple of cups of tea, most of them didn’t even touch the accompaniments. See why I told you adults don’t know how to make decisions where food is involved?
They started taking our cups and removing everything else that was remaining on the tables. ‘ Too bad for those who just drunk tea.’ I thought as I hit my stomach like a drum just to ascertain how full I was. I leaned back in the chair and looked at the ceiling , with a grin on my face.
Just then they started bringing in other plates. Then pots of food followed . No, not tea and potatoes. Food food. Real food. Then more pots followed . The grin on my face started disappearing. I started to caress my stomach to see whether by any chance I could create space – if for nothing else, just for one chicken drumstick, or as we fondly called it
indumbu . More pots came in. I tried to push all the food that was already in my stomach on one side. The adults continued their animated conversations, just a bit louder now. You could see happiness in their faces. Mine had sadness because I was too full. Such irony.
I walked out, went to the pit latrine that was a bit of a distance from the house. There I tried to push hoping something would come out, anything, but nothing did. I was waiting for the thud that comes after something dops but it wasn’t forthcoming. All that did come out was sweat.
he dead
Nanyeshewa na unaitaji summary ,itisha jamaa wa feelings omwami leo amenyesha proper.
Dont be a bitch; be precise
Mimi bado Niko huku Kwa ngombe @Meria Mata na haonekani; naskia tu ako DRC akiteka kuni…
wapi good summarytans ?
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na wewe VE uko na nini ya kusoma?
do you think anyone cares if you dont?
:D:D
Hekaya timam
Got bored