MY JUMUIYA FESTIVE TRIP

MY JUMUIYA FESTIVE TRIP

                                                                                                            Peter K’ouma

“The sun is setting at Kanyakiti”, that’s how I would have said while it goes down the Homa Hills, supposing the just concluded West African Prose Examination that marked my end-semester for December Holiday , was not here to hold me at the University of Nairobi. The third and fourth year Literature units ushered me into a world of culture, indigenousness, identity crisis, independence struggles, post-colonial theories, cosmopolitanism, subalterns and subliminal, hybridism and feminism, socialist and communists, as well as a world of gods, mythopoeism and glocalization. With only one semester to graduate, I am breaking for my Christmas holiday.

With the few thousands of shillings that I earned as a journalist and an editor for the college magazine, I am stranded on what, where and how to spend it during this festive season. Going to the coast and booking a one-week hotel at Nyali Beach Resort won’t be as rewarding as I now think. This will not quench my thirst for adventures. Exactly! It is now in my mind! I need to travel, I need to see flora and fauna, the terrain and physical appearance of the lakes falls, valleys, the ‘the other people’, and I want to see the region at large. I have an idea. When Naomi calls tonight, I am going to instruct her to write down a packing list for a one week- journey through the East African boarders. Of course I will remind her that we need not our little angel, Shannel (I am a daddy), for the baby will compete with the nature in demanding for our attention at a time when two means two and not any other figure beside. Besides, the various differences in weather of the intended destinations could be a challenge to her health. In the mean time, i will be drawing a map tonight. Ooh No! I would download it from the Google, to avoid many questions from Naomi.  The adventure diary would be well elaborative and self-speaking. I wouldn’t forget to send an M-Pesa to the Safaris Limited for the cab that I had asked for, three days ago plus a driver (Honestly, I had never been to a driving school). 

When Naomi calls tonight, I will inform her that we are leaving at quarter to six, for I would want to watch the sun from the Limuru Fly-over as it rises up the horizon from the east. I would want to bathe in the yellow mellow rays of the sun to imbibe the upcountry weather into my system.   At Mai Mahiu, the first stop would be on the raised hills, for I would want to watch the tops of the Rift Valley hills and mountains as they radiate sun rays. I would want to watch the vast land of the Maa people and to observe clusters of manyatta from a raised ground. We would then drive through the Mai Mahiu-Narok route. Taiyo, my Maasai friend, informed me that there is going to be a colourful pass-out for the Morans tomorrow. But before we drive to the pass-out event, I would inform Naomi that Maasai Mara National Park is offering the world’s most beautiful and rare species that we have been only watching in the documentaries. We are going to watch birds as they flap from one acacia tree to the next, singing sweet courtship songs. We are going to watch the stripped zebra and the mighty king of the jungle roaring. Watching hyenas as they limp and snoozes greedily would be as fascinating as watching the rare porcupines.

When we set out of the Mara Park, I would be seated at the back of the cab with her, humming into her ears the Ayub Ogada’s “Koth biro (The rain is coming)” tunes, to sooth her till she falls asleep on my chest. Humming the “Koth biro kel uru dhok e dala” tune will bring me more close to the African set-up, having in mind that we are heading towards Taiyo’s village, to watch the Morans springing into the air, to pay close attention to women dancing in circles with their fed breasts out and large bands of beads round their necks and waists. I am going to pay much attention to the war songs sung by the morans and their maidens. I would be seeing the Maa children with their indigenous mohocks and sticks in their little hands. These are the beautiful sights that i would want to watch as I leave for my journey tomorrow. From the Moran pass-out event, the vast Rift Valley would be on my sight with its beautiful features as we wheel towards Elementaita Crater Lake. I would stand on that mountain as Okonkwo did while addressing Amadioha, the god of thunder and lightning, and watch the other protruding volcanic features.

Down the mountain, i would remind the driver that flamingos of Lake Naivasha are in my diary, so the lake would be part of the visit. I would be narrating to Naomi of the flamingos that have evaded Lake Simbi Nyaima of Kendu Bay. The beautiful legs of those birds are mentioned in some of those tales that my late grandmother used to tell me during narration sessions in the evenings. At the lake, i would shout at, run after and scare the flamingos, just to see them fly into the air, churning the currents and listen to the sounds produced as their wings brush with the wind. I know Naomi would frown at my behaviour, not knowing that i would just be rejuvenating my appetite for the lunch that we would have at the Highway Hotel, Naivasha. Nyama choma, and kienyeji beside ugali would just do better. I wouldn’t frown if she would ask for take-away chips and Picana drink, because all ladies would ask for that.

The journey towards Kericho would be swift. In its outskirts, we would break to watch the vast tea estates. These estates would remind me of the uniform surface of Lake Victoria, a lake that i have been in contact with since childhood.  I know i would be tempted to buy Mursik, to drink on the way towards Awasi and Ahero, past the sugar plantations and rice paddies at Ahero-Kano swamp. As the sun would be going down the Ramogi Hills, the lake city would be on sight. The journey will have to take a longer pause for the next section when a new day breaks. Wait a minute! Lake Victoria, my grandmother called it Nam Sango. Around this lake settled Ramogi and his sons. This lake is known for the historical myths, and legends associated with it.  During the night, while at Dunga Beach, watching the waters, watching the waves brake, and the moon just above us, I would be narrating the stories of Nyamgondho wuod Ombare, as we take nyamami (the red-eyed tilapia). We would then move to the beach Inns and pubs, and sit just next to these proud Luos and listen to them brag. This is the most interesting thing among my people, they never brag to annoy or lower another person’s status. Everyone wants to feel part and a contributor to the entire community.  Everyone would shout loudly of how he is related to the most prominent man in the land, who owns the latest car model. When the mosquitoes tend to be more demanding for blood in the beach, we would move to the CBD of the lake city to our Lake View Inn room. It is possible to watch lights mounted on the boats fishing in the lake from the second floor of this guest house, and at the same time listen to Ohangla and Benga Bands playing in the city clubs. Dancing to the live tunes of Osogo Winyo, Tony Nyadundo, John Junior and Odosh Jasuba, truely gives my people their true identity.

I would wish to take the Kakamega route, i hear circumcision ceremonies and bull-fights are taking toll, but Busia route will make my borderline journey easier.  Jumuiya Afrika Mashariki has given it all. Passing the Busia Border is not as hectic as it were before. Just a temporal passport that takes five minutes to process is all that I need.

I am in the eastern Uganda. I am reminded that this country is the Pearl of Africa. The eastern part could confuse you with the many fascinating features and facilities that leave you with no direction to choose. One would get for Bungee jumping, but I would make up my mind and head for White Water rafting at Bujagali Falls from which w would head to Tororo Rock Climbing after watching the historical paintings at Kumi District.

The moment we arrive at the Seven Hills City (Kampala), we would head directly to Kira road that gets to Komwokya, off Bombo Road. This is the way to The Uganda Museum (founded in 1908). Reading the history and the events among the Kabaka people would all be done in the museum. Most of us rarely eat matoke, millet bread and cassava. These would be my special dishes while sitting on the mats. Naomi would struggle to imitate the way the Baganda women sit. Back in Kampala city in the evenings, I wouldn’t just take the vodka and the Jameson! No, I would be taking the Waragi, a banana gin. Have you ever heard that the Baganda women are the most respectful women when it comes to how they treat their husbands?  I am going to watch the Kabaka daughters go onto their knees and extend their welcome greetings to their husbands when they come back from works. I am going to listen to then calling their husbands ‘Lords’. I would be watching them remove the lord’s coats and shoes, and deep their legs into the warm water in the basin, wash and wipe dry using bedroom towels. If Naomi will attempt to do this for me, I swear I will never think of a second wife, even though everyone in our family is loyal to polygamy. 

Most people do not know that King Kabakas’ bodies were not just buried in the grounds. They were treated and preserved long after their deaths in special tombs, from where they would be visited and paid to respect from time to time.  Just 5km to the South west of Kampala city, we would be heading to the Kasubi Hills. Here, we would stop at Kasubi Royal Tombs, to pay respect to the dead kings. Ssese Islands are known for preserving the historical information on the Baganda people. The hills also host religious shrines. I will try to convince Naomi so that she could agree to go with me to one of the shrines, where the god of fertility lies, to offer her sacrifice, to plant for us our second born. 

Gorillas are rare species. Are you aware that more than half of the world’s gorillas are found in East Africa? The highest percentageof them are found in Bwindi Impenetratabe Forest. You must be aware that by now, we would be at the border between Uganda and Rwanda. Bwindi Impenetratabe Forest is known for its superb gorilla tracking. Watching baby gorillas sunbathing on the rocks, or being ferried from one tree to the next, or even two gorilla bulls fighting over who to breed next, would be fascinating to Ma’Shan. But if I have to take several photos of gorillas for my album, we would have to cross for Virunga Mountains. Traversing Rwanda will give me an opportunity to get for myself first hand information from the museums on the 1994 genocide. I would get to see how rebirth hearts are busy constructing their countries after blood baths, and torn apart by intertribal wars. Also, to see if she would be a greener pasture after my August graduation. 

By now, I would be running out of cash. Maybe, we should start moving close to Kenya. We would then take the coastal route to Dar-es-salaam, Tanzania. I am already warned that I should watch my Nairobi speed while in the streets since the Swahilis do not have the Nairobi rush that I am used to.

As the New Year kicks off, I will be back to my motherland, Kenya. I will be finishing my Jumuiya diary; I will be compiling my photo album. I will be updating my blog. I will be happy to be a true hero of Africa. I will be happy to quench my East Africa adventurous thirst. And the late Hon. David Nalo, will be happy to hear that son of the lake accomplished his dream for Jumuiya Ya Afrika Mashariki. God bless East Africa