According to my father, his grandfather was an elder of the clan, one of the highest ranks among the Agikuyu. He had been given birth to by a traveler thus rising through the ranks on his own. A year before his death, my father had told me about the traveler who gave birth to his grandfather. You see, he was not a traveler only; he had been exiled from his land. So my mother had not been entirely wrong when she had called my paternal grandmother a witch; after all, the old blood still ran in her veins. That had been the last time I had heard my father laugh.
Anyway, this story is not about my father or his grandfather. It is about my cousin who has brought shame to the family name. He is named after my great grandfather, the elder and he is a thief.
The clan is gathered in my uncle’s compound today to listen to his case and deliver his punishment if proven guilty. He will be found guilty; the village knows, we know, even his mother knows. She prepared sweetened porridge for him in the morning and drew him water for a bath. Children are not allowed in the gathering of elders, but my uncle has a big mango tree behind his rickety store and I intend to hide there.
My uncle is an elder and he is leading the case. My cousin’s neighbor starts and gets in the center of the circle. “Karoki came and told me that the cows to be vaccinated were to be vaccinated. As I don’t go out much, nobody had sent word to me. As you all know, I’m an old man whose feet cannot take me to the cattle dip. I was overjoyed when he offered to take my cow for me. As you all know, my children are grown and don’t visit home.” He stops and spits, and all the other elders spit. It’s a shame for a child not to visit a sick parent.
The old man continues, “When I went to help myself behind the tree just outside my compound, I came across my neighbor and asked him whether Karoki was back with the cows from the cow dip. He told me there was no vaccine, and his cows were in the shed. Karoki had stolen my cow. I don’t have a cow and an old man’s bones need milk.”
The next and last victim is my other uncle. His story is short. “Karoki stole my pesticides, sold them, and used water to spray my fruit trees; now I have no produce.” The elders are quiet for a minute and then they start chattering. Messing with a man’s produce is against the law of the land. Who will pay for his son’s dowry now? And the child’s dedication? His wife will surely leave him.
My uncle hits the ground with his staff and the elders stop chattering. “ Karoki will be banished from this village for ten years. It is decided.” The crowd is silent; the mother wails and his father shakes his head. The branch snaps, and I panic then fall in the center of the circle. My mother gasps and my uncle shakes his head. Luckily for me, children cannot be banished, but I don’t feel so lucky when the staff lands on my back.
Read – A Father’s Touch – A Children’s Story by Pelekani Lwenje, Zambia
