EXPERIENCE

~ EXPERIENCE

CHAPTER ONE~

EXPERIENCE: 2015

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Have you stopped lately and wondered who you are at present? Or if there is anything you need to appreciate in your life right now?

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The sun beautifully coloured the horizon orange and the dew shone like light reflecting off fields of shattered glass. The many birds in the trees were chirping melodiously as the sun’s rays warmed and soothed her body. The mooing of cows and bleating of goats could be heard across the fields.

Mellie was basking in the young morning sun. Its early morning rays warmed her as she sat under the jacaranda tree, one of the many on her compound. It was coming to the end of the dry season and the trees were budding, slowly raining down their small purple flowers, shaped like tubes to entice the insects. Their aroma filling the air indicated the coming rain.

The people here were farmers and the rain meant life for earth that had been thirsty for over three months. Mellie knew from experience how to read the changing behaviour of the trees to interpret the weather. In her youth, she would have been preparing the fields by now and she would be working the day’s long hours. But she was no longer in her youth and she had earned herself some long deserved peace and rest. The wind moved a few of the falling petals onto Mellie’s head.

She was sitting just outside her six-roomed, brightly painted house. Inside it was too cold. Traditionally the house would be roofed with thatched grass but nowadays it was seen as a sign of development to have an iron roof and so that was what she had. The grass would keep the house cool during the day and trap the warmth at night. The iron did not and so it was too cold in the house that particular morning.

Her house faced eastwards, towards the main river which flowed approximately a kilometre away. The next house was far from hers and only intermitted dotted iron roofs among the trees hinted at the existence of neighbours. The land was terraced towards this river, which cooled the wind as it travelled up the hill towards Mellie. She shivered a comfortable shiver as she felt the wind flow around her. To the north stood one lone hill from which this village got its name. Kilima Pekee it was called, meaning Lone Hill in Kiswahili.

She would sit there until the sun lulled her into a doze in the sunshine. She had nothing to do this morning and nowhere to be, nobody to see. She reached for a small pocket mirror. As she looked in it, she could see how she had changed and more especially internally. She saw all the wrinkles on her face. Her irises had white rings around them. ‘This was new,’ she thought, wondering what it meant. Her heart felt different though.

Mellie remembered like it was yesterday her smooth, rosy cheeks and mouth full of natural teeth. She laughed as she lowered the small pocket mirror. She tilted her head as she shifted the mirror to catch a better view of her whole face. She turned till she could see a better reflection of her face. Thoughts of her youth filled her with electrical excitement and nervousness. Her laugh broke the still of morning and she looked around – as if shocked by her own elation – to see if anyone had heard her.

Her wrinkles were not the only thing different about her now. She no longer wore her arm-length bangles and her long earrings. These used to be part of her routine dress. The multi-coloured bands of her bangles, yellow, silver, red, blue, green, used to hit against each other as she worked, creating a nice resonation. Her earrings, equally coloured, used to dance with the wind and the movement of her head. She sighed and wondered to herself who this woman was that she saw in the mirror.

Thoughts of zest and zeal crisscrossed her mind like swords in a battlefield. She was too busy engrossed in her world of thoughts to notice her daughter-in-law Magarita, emerging from the smoky kitchen which sat opposite the main house. The kitchen was grass thatched. Magarita rubbed her stinging, teary eyes as she exited the smoke and approached Mellie. Magarita was a good daughter-in-law. She was hardworking and she was caring; generous and hospitable too. Magarita had lived with Mellie since her early years of marriage. As a consequence, they had developed some convenient relationship.

“Mama,” Magarita asked her through her stinging eyes, “what makes you laugh till your molars show?”

Mellie dismissed the question with a wave of her hand. “Ah! It is nothing of importance.”

Her daughter-in-law picked up a few sticks for the fire and disappeared into the smoking kitchen again. Soon after, Mellie fell back into her bangle of thoughts, shifting and flicking from one memory to another.

She was not fond of memories, Mellie. They made her shake like a blade of grass up against a whirlwind. Her story began to unfold in her mind like a gently peeled onion; one layer after another, slowly, carefully.

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Chapter one – Reflection time

What needs to be healed?

When you look back on your life where have you come from?

How could you ensure the elderly in your life are taken care of?

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~CHAPTER TWO~

EXPERIENCE: Mellie’s Family

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Have you felt valued in your family as a woman / man?

What are you grateful for as you think of your origin?

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It is said ‘Educate a woman and you educate a nation’. I add, semi-educate an intelligent woman and let us take a long journey into the memory line of a semi-educated woman and see.

According to the Collectivist Culture in Kenya, characterised by male domination at many levels in the past, when a husband died, the wife was inherited by the husband’s brother, changing her name and becoming his wife.

When Mellie’s father died, her mother was inherited by Mellie’s uncle and thus became married to him. This was the norm and hence there was no cause for alarm. It was a custom followed to the letter to ensure the continuity of a man’s name even after his death. The children born to his brother by that wife would be called after the deceased man.

It was also done to ensure widows and their children, if they had any, were taken care of. Therefore, Mellie’s father, her new father, ended up with four wives by the end of his life – three inherited and one by his own accord. Mellie belonged to the last wife and all her cousins became her stepbrothers and stepsisters. There was no distinction between cousins as they now had become siblings. They all belonged to the same father. In the Kamba language the word for cousins is mwanaasa or mwiituaia [son or daughter of my father or mother]. So, there were no cousins, only siblings.

Mellie’s mother had only three daughters with no son. During childhood, boys went through circumcision to initiate them into adulthood. During childhood also, all girls underwent female genital initiation for the same reason. The boys’ initiation was assumed normal and expected. For the girls it was believed a necessity, to keep them faithful to their husbands. Initiation was something one was supposed to yearn for and be proud of. It brought the initiate a sense of being and belonging. The blood that was poured from the initiation was seen as libation and it even went beyond the living in a spiritual way to connect the initiates to the ancestors and then to God. One had to undergo it for self-identity but more importantly for one’s community. If one endured the pain with courage, they were respected and honoured as heroes and heroines.

All three girls underwent this ritual as it was a normal practice at the time.

Mellie was the youngest of the three girls. Kam, the middle child, died as a teenager but the oldest daughter, Malia and Mellie were both educated by the missionaries. Christianity was spreading throughout the land, especially from the mission in Kangundo. With this Christianity came some education and Mellie had access to this education. Mellie’s mother, a convert to Catholicism and a believer in the Mzungu (white) education made sure she went to school. It was she who took Mellie to the mission school. The other girls besides her own in her family and extended family did not have this conviction.

The bribe of a handful of sugar given to each student for attending class each day was an added advantage.

A petal fell on Mellie’s nose and woke her from her memory dream. She smiled as she shifted slightly to ensure she remained under the shade of the jacaranda tree. Her memories were flooding back to her now. She remembered joking with her classmates as she sat in school. They were learning phonetics in Kiswahili and the accents of some of the students meant they struggled significantly. The rest of the students would laugh as the Mzungu priest teaching the class would ask them to say “fa”. They all would, except one student who would respond “mba”. He was older than the rest of the students, not having started his education until his early twenties. At that age it was difficult for anyone to recognise the differences between the subtle words and sounds. Again, teacher would repeat “sema (say) FA” and again the student would lift his head up, distorting his face as he tried, as he stressed hard only to shout. “Mba”.

Now Mellie knew the difficulties of his late education. Had she knew then what she knew now she wouldn’t have laughed. But children can be unintentionally cruel. She laughed because, as a child, she found it funny. It was strange the memories which stay and memories which leave.

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Chapter two – Reflection Time: Culture

What is your experience of wife inheritance?

Was the practice of genital cutting positive or negative?

As you look critically at your family history where do you need healing?

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~CHAPTER THREE~

EXPERIENCE: Their Context

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The beliefs you hold now were made at a certain time in your history. The situation was different from today so you may need to change your beliefs to suit the reality you are in now regarding the losses in your life.

How do you cope with grief?

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Having attended the mission school, Mellie could speak Kikamba and Kiswahili fluently and could write it well too. She also had some English vocabulary. She was equipped for life, unlike the majority of her age-mates. The man she was to marry, too, was educated. And more than she. He could communicate in his mother tongue Kikamba, Kiswahili and English.

Fredrick, Mellie’s suitor and eventual husband, was expected to pay a certain number of heads of cattle to her parents or, in their demise (as was true in Mellie’s case) to the first-born son. It had to be the eldest of the living siblings. Since Fredrick had a little more education than most people at that time, he had gotten a prestigious job with the East African Railways Company and was more than capable of this payment.

In the years before the 1950’s the East African Railway Company was the place to work. The other option was to join the colonial government army. Fredrick had a salary and lived in the capital city Nairobi and was better off than most people.

And so, Fredrick was able to fulfil the marriage requirements with ease. He and Mellie wedded in the Catholic Church. The church was built by the Holy Ghost Missionaries from Ireland. It sat in a green valley surrounded by three hills. There were two rivers on either side of the church compound providing the area with plenty of water. From the entrance one was welcomed by a beautiful parish farm with all kinds of tropical trees laden to the ground with abundant fruit and crops. To the furthest end were stalls for cows and goats and a chicken house. For the men of the cloak this place was a haven to come to at the end of the many hours of travel through paths and tracks to bring the Gospel to the vast parish. When Christians came here it felt like home. The air around the church was cool most of the day compared to the rest of the hot region. There were many trees, shrubs and beautiful flowers. This would provide a nice background for their wedding photos. They both loved photos. She remembered those beautiful flowers she held of that wedding day! At this memory she rolled her eyes and slightly tilted her neck and she flirted as in her wedding day. It left her with a shy smile.

At the rear end of this church was a huge iron bell. It was elevated some metres above the ground. It weighed at least a hundred kilograms. A mass server had to pull a strong nylon rope which hung an arm’s length from the floor. Sometimes two boys had to swing on it to make the bell sound. One could see their legs hanging in the air as they attempted to exert their weights towards the ground so that it could gong. It could be heard from the ridges and valleys over twenty kilometres away. It tolled at six in the morning, at noon and six in the evening. Catholics were supposed to stop and recite the angelus when the bell tolled.

The church itself was simple redbrick with an iron roof. A pre-Vatican Council white marble alter was built from the front wall. The priest offered mass with his back to the congregation. There was no electricity so a kerosene lamp sat beside the tabernacle as an indication of the Blessed Sacrament. On the walls of the church were pictures depicting the Way of the Cross, typical of many catholic churches. Most of the images were of white people though showing Christianity still as a foreign religion at the time.

Mass was offered in Latin as was much of Mellie and Fredrick’s wedding. About two hundred people could sit in the church, on wooden planks with no backrests. Marrying in a church proved their commitment and seriousness to the Roman Catholic faith. Good and practicing Catholics were encouraged to marry in the church and so they did. If anyone did not, the bell would not toll for them when they died (normally, the church bell tolled when a catholic died). Such a person would be ‘considered dead’ as far as the church was concerned.

The new Christian faith preached against most African practices and in this context the Kamba practices. They were termed as ‘pagan’. Actually this area was the location of the ‘head shrine’ for the traditionalists. Shrines were also made in good natural forest areas with beautiful sceneries. God was believed to like nature which had not been meddled with. The missionaries had come to build a parish in this area to convert these people ingrained in this culture. As a matter of fact, drums were heard from six in the evening till six the next morning as ‘Kilumi’ (a Kamba Religious Ritual) dancers played drums and danced to appease the deities. As Catholics themselves, Fredrick and Mellie didn’t want to be mistaken as ‘pagans’ or their sympathisers. They had to show their stance as having forsaken all these former ways of their fathers! After all who wanted to be treated as a pagan? Definitely not Fredrick or Mellie.

In the 1940’s, when Fredrick and Mellie wedded, a movement was occurring. The land where Mellie and Fredrick grew up was becoming too crowded. According to the tradition, men owned vast areas of land and children were born to provide labour to work the land. The more children one had, the richer they were considered. Mellie’s clan were farmers who once lived in Kangundo, one of the most fertile areas in Kambaland, Kenya. This area had a favourable climate and good soil and so produced good yields of crops each year. As a result of the fertility of the land, the population increased immensely. The land was subdivided to account for the increased population and the area of land owned by each individual shrunk.

Because of this, the colonial government began a movement to decongest the overly populated Kangundo Area and relocate the villagers to another settlement scheme in the now Makueni County of Kenya.

It was for this reason that many people, including the recently married Mellie and her husband, migrated away from their home to the less populated areas of Kambaland.

Makueni was a jungle of a place. Originally a national park home to all kinds of animals large and small. It got its name from the enormous poisonous snakes – known locally as the Makuua – that lived there. These were not one single species of snake, but were many: Pythons, Puff Adders, Black Mambas, Saw Scaled Vipers, Black Necked Spitting Cobras and more. An ‘ikuua’ (a single one) was any of these deadly snakes which resided in the jungles of Makueni.

Herds of elephants, giraffes, zebras, antelopes and prides of lions and all manner of other creatures lived there too. To those forced to relocate, it was a difficult move and many died trying, usually from snake bites or scorpion stings. So people knew herbal medicines as remedy for the various health challenges they faced including poison. The nearest hospital was many miles away.

Since Fredrick had a salary, he was able to travel there to acquire as much land as he could clear among his kinsmen who served in the local government. But they did not move to the land at that time. Instead they lived for some time in Nairobi City. Because of Fredrick’s job they had the freedom to move when and where they wanted.

Underneath the jacaranda tree, Mellie winced slightly as her memories took her further into nostalgic space. In Nairobi she had her first pregnancy. It was a miscarriage. Mellie didn’t like talking about the death. She found this unforgettable. When asked she would hold up her hands and shake her head from side to side, blinking back tears. ‘Just let that lie’, she would say inaudibly. She believed that stories about grief were better laid to rest. Later on in her life, a life marred with violence and suffering, she would continue to stand by these words.

She picked up a sweater she had been knitting lately to keep her loneliness and thoughts at bay. ‘This can nearly fit my grandson’, she thought. ‘Just a few more lines of knitting’. She loved to care for people and particularly loved her grandchildren. It was the pride of parents to see the continuity of life, the continuity of their name. Her grandson, Fredrick, was named after her deceased husband and she loved him dearly.

Mellie was not able to bring herself to face the painful side of her life. Some things, she thought, were better forgotten. Grief and pain for her were no-go-zones. It was the way she protected herself. The way she ensured she remained sane. It is said the brain has a survival technique of blocking intense pain.

During the young couple’s life in town, they dined and kept company with the rich. The wives had a circle of friends who did things together like buying their clothes from the same boutique – it was the only boutique in their local town. They would bake, knit and visit each other’s homes for celebrations. Her husband cared for her greatly and made sure she had all she needed. The husbands met for drink as they shared stories about their culture but mostly of the colonial situation in the country.

But after a few years in town she tired of the city and yearned for the countryside. It was where she was born, where she was raised and she decided it was time to go, develop and take care of her home in Makueni. Their destination was always to be Makueni. The town was only temporary.

In the village was a certain woman, believed to be a witch. She was a short, stout woman who spent her days preparing an alcoholic brew and ensuring her clients stayed hooked in her den. She made sure the brew was ready at all times of day or night. At times Mellie could not help thinking this woman had become jealous of Fredrick and cast a spell on him. It was the only way she was able to make sense of his change of behaviour. Why else would he take up the drink, why else would he submit himself to such shame, with many – including his neighbours – knowing where he was and what he was doing? This witch was a mean, selfish and jealous woman. She wanted nothing more than destruction of others for her own gain. Whether or not she was a ‘real’ witch was irrelevant. Fredrick was under some sort of spell. And everything else held constant, she was the likeliest cause!

Fredrick was a tall and handsome man. He had a nice slender body. Generally he said little and did not talk about his past. But when he drank he spoke uncontrollably and over time, before anyone could realise or understand why he began to drink as a fish, coming home late at night, stumbling around and yelling. When he was silent it was a screaming silence. When he was drunk, Mellie found out why. She found out about the secrets of his family.

Over time Mellie learned that Fredrick had a cupboard of skeletons. It was possibly too scary even for him to begin to look at. His own father had been murdered in a family feud over his mother. He was the first born and his young sister was a toddler when their father died. Apparently, his father’s cousin was interested in his mother. So, it was said that when they went looking for pasture far away from home – this took them several months until the rains came – the cousin got the opportunity to attack and kill him. Mellie did not find this out until a certain kinsman shared the information. He said Fredrick’s father was killed in a “sinful situation”, a silencing statement that ended any further enquiry on the matter.

Fredrick’s father had no brothers and so, as was the tradition, his mother married the next closest relative, his cousin, the man who everyone knew had murdered Fredrick’s father. Though the family moved in with the cousin, they still kept their father’s name, a constant reminder of what had happened. It was a shameful reality for Fredrick to admit. The ill-feelings were however carried through the generations but only as a big family secret. Only when he was drunk would he stumble around shouting, “I’m the legal son of” without ever finishing the sentence.

This was just before Mellie moved to Makueni. As Fredrick was to stay behind for work and come later, these random moments of drunkenness and past revelations ended when Mellie moved and life continued on as normal, more or less. Mellie was a farmer and the new land was virgin and hence quite fertile. She minded the farm and, as Mellie was very industrious, the land responded generously to her hard work. Within no time she had lots of cattle. She was mostly alone as her husband continued to work in the city, coming to Makueni and the home only occasionally. She carried a second pregnancy to term and the baby was delivered at home. Mothers often delivered at home with the help of well-seasoned midwife. This child, Tinda (which means the one who took long to arrive), had been choked by the umbilical cord during birth and by the time the midwife could cut it off, the little angel was dead. He may have taken long to arrive, but he definitely did not take long to leave! Now Mellie had two children who had died before they could live.

Mellie was very distressed and did what she knew best. She pushed this immense pain into the depths of her unconscious.

Kamba, the tribe to which Fredrick and Mellie belonged, believe in death as a passage. Death was seen to be so near humans and yet when it happened it was pushed far away and sometimes people went into silence. Mourning was done through talking in low voices as people, especially women, sat together on the floor or ground. When there were deaths, discussion of them was buried with the dead. Mellie, like others, believed that God gave and also took back. It was God’s will. The same God who took away would give again. Life had to continue. There was no point crying over spilt water. That was how she saw death. Talking about it was like opening the coffin that she preferred to leave alone. She said in desperation, “there is no point, there is no need. Leave it alone!” All she knew is that she had to hang in there… she had to stay afloat!

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She tries and she bares

She cries and she bears

It’s clear that she is more than this for she cares

For her two lost children dares

Pain she can and has kept

For this she has often wept

It is been a long-term dream

For within she is the top of the cream

She knows all her duties

But not without difficulties

More than just chores in the kitchen

She’ll stay afloat in society like lichen

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Chapter three – Reflection Time: Death and Grief

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The body’s natural way of dealing with too much pain is to fight, flee or freeze. What are the upsides and downsides to these methods? Are there other ways to deal with the pain?

Have you ever attended a funeral of known or unknown people and realise you can’t stop crying? This may be an indication you still need healing from your losses.

What are the deaths you need to face in your life?

What do you do when faced with death?

Do you need to talk about those deaths you fear facing?

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~CHAPTER FOUR~

EXPERIENCE: Domestic Violence

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Domestic violence can often be a shameful topic to engage with in families. It exposes the members and they lose face. As a result, it often remains a family secret safely kept. Yet it continues to affect those keeping the secret.

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This is for all;

Children who don’t know who they are because the

Big people’s words and deeds in their lives

Have adulterated their image

They have forgotten who they are.

Those who have gone to bed earlier than they would have wanted

Or left home unwillingly because it is unbearable

Or even stayed back for the sake of peace

Someone knows how it feels like

The hearth is lifeless!

So, you may not eat tonight

Or the stove and the cutlery is strewn on the floor

From last night’s parents’ fighting episode

You do not know when to smile

You whose antennae always go up

Because you sense something is about to happen

You who go to bed not knowing whether your parent will come home or not

Who may sometimes have to be put up?

As the rent has not been paid

Or for school fees are urged to ‘tell the teacher you are orphaned!’

Not knowing where your parent is since the last drinking spree.

For you women with black eyes due to the ‘accident!’ you had last night

Those men too ashamed to shout or cry as culture doesn’t let you

This is for you vulnerable children not feel safe in your house

For you who feel blamed for just being you

For anyone who is too challenged to move and have to keep it all in

How do we redeem ourselves from those after us?

This is for all of us who choose to stand up for change.

This is to all of us!

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It wasn’t long before Mellie’s third daughter was born. She was born in June 1948 just as the rainy season was subsiding. Guest was her name. She was ‘the long-awaited visitor’. She was like Mellie in every way. She had a soft heart, was compassionate and did not like to see others suffer. She kept to herself. Many years later when her husband died early she kept to herself. She would not bother asking for help. She cried easily when she experienced pain. She was always motherly to her young siblings and they found her company easy. She was slow to challenge, had a leap of a hearty laughter and swore by the donkey’s rights – “I swear by the donkey.” – A mantra she used often to stop herself from swearing.

After Guest came another girl. Her name was Guy. Tough as leather. She grew up to feel as if life treated her unfairly. She didn’t associate much with the rest of her family. It was as if she looked down on them as ones who had easy lives and did not know what it was to suffer.

She was tall and beautiful and very nice when she was in a good mood. She was generous and expected the recipient to realize how hard she had worked to provide. She was a good worker, an achiever and highly gifted in craft.

The next two children, Mulili and Loki, were also successfully brought into this world. Mellie had two daughters and two sons. Life began to return to normal. Fredrick, who still experienced moments of drunkenness lived and worked in Nairobi for much of the year, coming back on weekends for visits. Mellie was left to her own devices to look after her children and her land.

Fredrick did well at his job and slowly began to move up the corporate ladder. As he did, his money increased. As his money increased, so did the drink and the brief moments of drunkenness began to grow. One bottle turned into two, which turned into four. Eventually their doctor in Nairobi warned him against the drink, telling him that it had affected his liver. Had he indications of liver cirrhosis? He had to undergo an operation and was told he risked severe liver damage if he ever drank again.

Something serious was looming. Several years later, while his children were still in primary school, he lost his job because of the drink. Nobody knew then that he suffered addiction and that its name was alcoholism.

Having lost his job in the 1960s, he had no reason to stay in Nairobi and so he came home to Makueni, where he continued to ‘oil’ himself properly. He was gradually becoming more and more unpredictable.

Mellie was by now economically stable from farming and could cope for some time even without his salary. She had hoped they would work together to double their efforts to make excellent what she had managed on her own.

The education of his daughters began to irritate him. While it was not a priority, he felt somehow obliged to educate them at least for a few years. But those few years had now passed and the money spent on their education was something Fredrick wanted for himself.

‘Why must they be educated further,’ he thought to himself and sometimes said out loud. ‘They already know all they need and they will not need more. When they are grown and married this education will not help them. Their husbands will help them.’ He never said this last part out loud in front of Mellie.

He was frustrated that he had to ask Mellie for money to maintain his lifestyle. So he drank cheap brew at the ‘witch’s’ den and the more he drank, the more violent he became to Mellie and the children. The alcohol would flood his brain and the quiet man would turn to a loud and angry bear.

Many times he returned home drunk and caused unrest in his home. He would walk through the door stumbling and yelling. Swinging his arms around and trying to hit anything that moved. The children would run away into the forest and wait until he fell asleep before they could return to their rooms. He talked most of the night though. Sometimes the family went to the neighbours’ and he went after them searching everywhere; violence propelling him forward.

Mellie and her children spend their lives in the heart of darkness not knowing where their father and husband would turn up next. For the children it was particularly difficult if the next day was a school day. After a night of running and escaping into the forest, how could anyone expect them to concentrate in class or even keep their eyes open?

Tiredness grew and their perpetually red eyes began to develop bags underneath them.

They were always on high alert. Their senses were well attuned and highly focused in case they heard, smelt, or saw him. More often than not they would hear or smell him before they saw him. The drink made him loud and his entire being stank of alcohol. Home was no longer a place to belong, to feel loved and valued. It was rather a war zone when their father was around and it was a ticking time bomb when he was not; for sooner or later he would show up. His loud voice would be heard way off and his silhouette would appear in the doorway. Then it would be time again to take to their heels.

Life was one long race.

In the days of occasional drunkenness it was simply yelling and confusion. Mellie could usually calm him down by not saying a word back to him. But now there was true fear. There was no hope of coming within striking range of him. Fredrick had a sharpened machete that nobody else would touch. Its edge glistened where the blade had been sharpened, its smooth edge interrupted with small cuts caused by the blacksmith’s stone. This was the weapon, his weapon, which he would use to threaten his family. He would swear and stumble about, swinging it with terrible aim but dangerous effect.

So, they ran, always they ran. They ran to the forest; they ran to the neighbours. Wherever he was not, they ran. For how could they stand up to him?

One night, Fredrick came into the house carrying a knife. It was not his usual machete. It was shorter, like a dagger. He chased the family from the house with surprising speed for a drunk man. Guest ran through the forest to the neighbour’s house. When she reached the front of house the neighbour was there and Guest ran up to her and buried herself in her arms for protection.

Her name was Naomi and she was tall and strongly built. “Shhh!” she whistled through the gap between her top front teeth. Naomi calmed Guest as best as she could. “Let us sit out in the stars, for when does he come here?”

So, Guest and the neighbour began to calm down as they huddled together in the cool of the night, looking up and wondering as to the path of their lives.

Naomi was beautiful. She was the third and most beloved wife of her husband. She was a hardworking farmer and a good cook. There was always food in the house and she offered some to Guest that night. Guest simply shook her head, knowing getting food would mean departing from the arms of this woman. The fear she had surpassed hunger.

The neighbour was right, Fredrick rarely ever came down to the neighbours’ in pursuit of his family. He had a little respect for this woman for she could stand up to him. But tonight, Fredrick did not stop his pursuit, he did not change target. Despite his drunkenness, he walked stealthily to where the neighbour and his daughter were seated under the starry night sky. He crept from behind the house, slowly. Each step brought him closer to the two who were sitting calming down trying to forget what was happening. Naomi was warming herself in the dying charcoal fire as it was a cool evening. They were illuminated by the moonlight. The fire that burned through the dusk was not out. It was smoking slightly and casting the tiniest golden glow.

The wind blew softly over their faces as they sat upwind of Fredrick’s creeping body. Did they smell something? The wind changed direction.

He crept forward in the night. As he turned the corner to see them, he slashed in the air with the knife, meaning to cut off his daughter’s neck. But he was drunk and despite the stealthy ambush his aim was still untrue. Guest was glued to the spot. Her instinct told her to raise her arm to defend herself. She screamed silently. Her hand connected with the knife and it slit her palm open.

For a second Guest was stunned, until she felt the warmth of the blood against her forearm as it ran down and dripped onto her feet. Her father was stabilising his feet to attack again. She jumped up and ran into the forest, disappearing into the darkness. He ran after her. But a drunk, grown man cannot keep the speed of a small child through a dense growth of leaves and plants. Whatever stealth, speed and cunning Fredrick had used to follow her thus far had evaporated after the adrenaline rush of the attempted murder. She continued to run as fast as she could. Each time she tripped, she righted herself, ignoring the pain in her palm.

Eventually, he gave up. Naomi ran into the forest to find her. She called in whisper “child, it is I, Naomi. Come out please, your father has left.” There was no response.

Guest was not found until the early hours of the next morning, exhausted and drained of much blood. She could hardly stand and collapsed into the arms of her neighbour. It was lucky she was found at all for the jungle is not a place to lose one’s way not to mention the deadly snakes! And finding a child within the jungle anyway.

Luckily, the dagger did not slice through any important arteries or veins. Guest would later say about her father in his old age, “I wish in all my life I had the courage to ask him to pay me back for the blood I lost that night!” She also wished she could ask the question no one knew the answer to.

“Why on earth did he want to kill me?”

Whatever the reason, she appreciated being spared.

Before she turned fourteen, life became so unbearable that she decided she would rather be married than spend her life running. When she was dancing one evening at the local village dance she met a fellow named Baraka, meaning Blessing. He too loved to dance. It was here dancing under the dim hurricane lamp, in the full moonlight and the African starry night sky and the lively Kamba music that they fell in love. Baraka liked to wear bell-bottom trousers and long-sleeved tight shirts. It was the fashion at the time, as was his hairstyle of a medium cut up top and a line cut on the right side. He smoked cigarettes and weed and he traded bhang to subsidise his income which he got from working in the city.

So, Guest got married and did not come back for many years. She remained loyal to Baraka and Baraka to her until his premature death due to a road accident many years later. Though it seemed unimaginable that she would go on to mother seven children and be happy, more or less. None of this, however, would be known to Mellie for some time.

Meanwhile, the rest of the family continued running. When the sun fell, they ran and during the night, they hid. Like a wounded lion, he chased after them and like weak, scared antelopes, they never stood in one spot for too long.

Mellie once said, “I used to spend the whole day with hungry children, uprooting trees and stumps from people’s farms in order to get money to buy food. If he came as the food was cooking, he would lift the pot and throw it out of the house. Tired and hungry we all dispersed.” Mellie would then spend the night tracking her children down. It was something she would get very used to doing over the years. They no longer knew what plenty or even enough was.

There was a gap in time before a sixth child came and it was a girl. Nduku was her name. She died after birth, the umbilical cord wrapped around her neck, too tired to even make her first cry.

In no time, Ally was born and he was the storyteller. He used to kid everyone. He would disguise his voice and chat with a neighbour like he was a fellow woman friend of hers, He would engage in conversation from outside her house and she inside.

“Hodi,” he would say. “How are you this morning Mama Yoni?”

She would respond “Let me come out…we are good and everyone is good this morning.”

“Ah, it is fine. Do not worry about leaving your home. You are busy and we can talk here. Tell me some news.”

Like this, Ally would try to keep the conversation going as long as possible until, upon coming out of the house, his conversation partner would discover that she had been talking all the time with Ally. He was the family clown.

The land Fredrick bought was the land on which they now lived, was land bought during a time of plenty. It was a good stretch of land, sloping westerly and sitting alongside the biggest river flowing through the area. It was perfect for both crop and animal farming and Mellie worked hard to ensure the land bent to her will. It was prosperous and giving.

Fredrick did not work the land. When he lost his job and moved out of the city. He decided not to work again and just to drink. As he drunk, the money he had with him began to dwindle. While fertile land lay within his grasp, the drinking was too strong and as the drinking continued, the money decreased.

Mellie only heard of the buyer when he and his associates came to view the land. Their neighbour, a man named Tiso, saw Mellie’s land and wanted it for himself. He knew Fredrick liked the drink and he knew Fredrick had no job. So, his wife made a brew and allowed Fredrick to drink it, not asking him to pay but allowing him to build up credit. He drank and drank for weeks, unburdened by the worries of how he would eventually pay.

When finally payment was demanded, Fredrick was blindsided and he ordered Mellie to march the cattle to the nearest market and sell them. All the cattle were sold but this was not enough. So Tiso and his wife suggested payment in land. Surely Fredrick had not built up credit enough to have to pay in land!

It was the word of a drunkard against the crafty neighbours.

Mellie could prove nothing. But she could go to the chief of the area. The chief’s camp was three kilometres away, at the Convenient Centre where the colonial masters met the people to make any major announcement. When she arrived, she met with the chief and pleaded with him to stop the sale of the land. She said, “I’m married to Fredrick and I have five children. I would like to ask you to stop him from proceeding with the sale of our land.”

The chief listened and was moved. But the clerk who was his confidant and also a distant cousin of Fredrick’s was not. He went to the chief and said, “Bwana chief, if a man owns a shirt he has a right to do as he wills with it. What this woman says is nonsense.”

Mellie knew enough English to pick up a few words, including the words “No sense”. This was a word she would never forget all her life. The chief listened to his advisor and did not stop the sale of the land. She was sent home. She picked her sisal ‘kiondo’ (basket) and dragged her heavy feet helplessly out of that office.

So Fredrick sold his land and his cattle in order to pay for the drink (which he had already taken). That was the day they became as poor as church mice.

After they lost their land, Fredrick disappeared for some time and went back to his father’s house. Mellie found work and a place to stay in a local settlement scheme in the district, working for some of her distant kin. No human had ever settled there before but it was somewhere they could stay and beggars cannot be choosers. All Mellie had to do was work on the farm. At this settlement she was even given a small place to build a makeshift house, though it never really became a home.

The only evidence that remained of their good life was this three bedroomed house. She passed by her former land and shed tears every time. She would shake her head and wonder who would ever have guessed she would once be homeless. Each morning, as early as she could, Mellie would rise leaving Fredrick in their now hut to sleep in. She would step outside and stretch, looking out to the river which ran several hundred metres away from them. This river was a constant reminder of her home because she now lived across the same river, poor and a squatter. Then she would report for duty. Mellie knew that this was a long fall from her previous life. Previously these menial jobs would have been done by someone in a lower class than Mellie. But the money was gone and she had no choice. If only her husband would work with her, they would still have a good life!

She had to be ready before the sun got too hot. She would then work till evening. The farms, which were up to twenty acres, were recently cleared of their trees and all that remained was their stumps. These stumps made it impossible for the oxen to plough the fields properly without risking injury. Mellie’s job was to change that.

Whenever she approached a new tree, Mellie’s special hoe would be lifted above her head. The skill learned from childhood was to split the wood into smaller pieces to allow them to be lifted from the earth. Standing on the tree stump itself was the most effective but most dangerous. One wrong swing could cut an ankle or send the wielder flying.

Mellie never swung wrong.

Even working tirelessly she only managed to pull out a few stumps a day. Her hands developed blisters and bruises but she did not complain. Some days she was blessed to come across stumps whose roots were dry or rotten, making them easier to remove. Some days it rained and the roots were easier to extract.

Being of distant kin was more a curse than a blessing and Mellie found her employers to be some of the worst payers she knew. Her wage was given in broken instalments and much of it was never given. But she needed the money. And beggars cannot be choosers.

Mellie was a Christian woman and she believed she worked for God not just her employers. So, she would go back, no matter how difficulty the work was or how little the pay. Each morning she would enter the compound, a hoe on her shoulder, a wrap around her waist and rosary beads in her hand.

“Good morning,” she would declare once she had met her employer some metres from their house. She would usually address the person by their relationship name – such as ‘my uncle’s daughter’ – or by their tribe name. “Do you need any casual labourers?”

“Not really,” was almost always the response but Mellie knew she could get there with a little push.

“I can see your beans need weeding before they flower. I have nothing to cook for my children tonight so let me weed for them.”

“My husband won’t come till the end of the month so I have no money to give you.”

“Can you pay me in kind? Maybe give me some food to cook tonight?”

It was the only way to ensure she worked, but Mellie knew that the longer she negotiated, the lower the deal went and she would end up out of desperation doing more than she got paid for. And when the kin’s husband did end up coming home, she was never given all that she was owed. Her main survival technique was to work till evening, until the people she worked for were eating and then pass by the house, asking either to be paid in kind or to receive her wages. Sometimes it worked but usually if she received food it was old, off, or scraps.

But Mellie was a fighter and had the resilience of a tank. She continued to do casual jobs in farms. Sometimes walking far before she found someone willing to employ her. But she always found work to be done. Like a tractor, she worked on people’s farms. She needed their money more than they needed her labour. She weeded their vast plots of land for peanut wages, but she was highly grateful.

The real danger was the snakes and scorpions that hid in the dirt. Most of the adult snakes would slither away when they heard her coming, but the younger ones, the ones more prone to attack, would not know to run. They would stay there until unearthed. If they bit, there was no telling how much venom was injected into the body. Baby snakes were very dangerous.

It was an incredible thing to see an experienced field worker uncover a snake. The hoe would flip the earth, revealing the snake and causing the worker to jump back. Always alert to such dangers and always ready, the hoe in a single and smooth motion would be swung around high over the head and sent crashing down onto the head of the still-disorientated snake, decapitating it. This was harder to do with scorpions, given their smaller size, but it could sometimes still be done.

Before she started working, she would pray for protection and for the will to work well. The children would have their mouths agape when she showed them the area she had to work. Especially Ally, who often had to accompany her during her work. He would ask “Mwaitu, where have you to work up to before we can go home?”

She would say, “Son, it will not be long before we will be on our way. Just sit there and before you know it I will be finished. It’s only up to that tree over there. Sit there and tell me some of the stories narrated in school.”

She would then start to work stopping occasionally to chew her tobacco and drink some water under the shade of the jacaranda tree.

When Ally came with her he would plead, “Mum, it is nearly three o’clock, the midday plane already passed long ago,” (There was a plane that always flew over at exactly noon a regular mark that it was lunch time) “can we go home now?”

“My son, sit under that shade and let me finish just this bit.”

Sometimes he waited and waited. He was not only tired but hungry. The water they had carried was tasteless. Eventually, for he knew his mother was scared of leopards he hatched a plan.

“Mum, I just heard some movement in the forest behind me. I say it is a leopard!” He jumped up and ran towards her calling for help, “mum!” She took the bait and they ran like hares and went home. Whenever he wanted to go home, he used that trick and it always worked with his mother. He did not realise it, but it also meant they did not get paid and they did not get food.

She spent many whole hot days working on an empty stomach. This suffering she underwent changed the way she treated casual labourers working in her home many years later. She strongly believed that if anyone came to do any work, they were to be properly fed. She said, “If a casual worker is not fed in my home, I will take my own portion and give it to them. I know how it feels like to work without food and I will not like any woman’s child to go through a similar experience.”

During this time, Fredrick came and went. When he went, he wasn’t missed and when he came, Mellie welcomed him as she believed a wife should. He was, after all, still her husband. This is was culturally and religiously expected of her.

v

Chapter Four: Reflection time

What happens when a husband like Fredrick feels threatened by an empowered woman?

How can a gentleman empower himself so that he supports and loves his family?

Culturally men and women had places where they could be counselled. Those circles are weak or no longer there. Healing workshops are great places where nowadays people can find a space to talk and be listened to as they disentangle from self-defeating behaviour.

There could have been a cultural aspect to the violence in which corporal punishment was used on women and children by men. When this happened, in some cases, the women believed that it was out of ‘love’. I want to believe the reader will realize that and especially those who are survivors of violence that it does affect those who witness or even receive it. The challenge is for those who experience anger to look for less harmful ways to discipline. I want to believe that getting help is one way someone can learn alternative ways of dealing with anger so that children and others learn by being differently mentored rather than through violence.

I also believe strongly that the cycle of violence can be broken so that members of a family get to talk about issues as they happen. Too often there is a silence behind physical violence, even an untold silence behind verbal violence. What is behind the silence or the many words? What do you want your partner to do? What do you need from her or him?

v

~CHAPTER FIVE~

Hard times pass.

v

Many women share economic disempowerment as one reason they stay in abusive relationships; made all the more intense when they have children. In these situations, resources were a problem especially when the core source of livelihood is shaken.

Women being jobless and again the expectations to adhere to the cultural roles as in Mellie’s case only to be a housewife makes provision a challenge. What happens when men loss jobs? Could they cope differently with the stress? One wonders if the domestic violence was activated by the fact that Fredrick felt out of control when Mellie became economically empowered. The question however is how empowerment can be viewed as ‘with’ each other rather than ‘against’ each other? How can resources be used to enhance happiness in the family no matter how little they are? Maybe the issues are deeper than resources.

How can fathers and husbands act as buffer for their wives and children? Children in violent situations need a lot of understanding from adults who handle them in other institutions. The children from violent homes experience debilitating fear which can affect their lives unless helped to talk about what they are going through. Nowadays, teachers and others are more equipped and need to be if not with skills to handle children with care. I have found equipping children with skills to help them cope with difficult domestic situations helps in bringing out the best in them and helping to break the cycle of violence.

v

As time went on, life moved into what, for Mellie, held a semblance of normalcy. Mato was born. He had a good appetite. He breast-fed very well and became a very strong boy. No wonder he got to like cooking so much. He cooked mostly and at rare times Ally helped. Mellie cooked at Christmas and at big feasts. She would sit on her stool and work. (This was a special stool that was carved and given to a Kamba woman when she got married. This one was smooth like a milk gourd).

Mato was a very loving brother. He was the one who Baby would get to know best. Baby was to be Mellie’s final child. She wouldn’t come into the world until years later and she wouldn’t really get to know Mato until several years after that. In her later years she would remember one time before she had started school; she found him cutting an unripe pawpaw with a very sharp knife. Before he knew it, she was next to him. She was fascinated by the way it cut so neatly ta ta ta!

“Let me hold it for you, Mato.” Before he could reply, the knife had come down and cut through the pawpaw to her middle finger on her little right hand. She pulled it and cried for the rest of that day. They were both shocked. ‘Baby, sorry! Sorry! Sorry! Let me see.’ He pleaded. Baby would not let him examine it. Upon seeing the blood, she was sure she was going to die. This is what blood meant! The pain she felt! She could still feel the sharp knife going through. She held it tight in the heart of her other hand. Then Mato said sorry again and promised to give her his share of the yellow scones and juice famously known then as ‘Treetop’ when mother came home. The finger never healed properly from the cut, leaving a rough scar for the rest of her life and a slight sensation whenever she fully stretched out her hand.

After that day, Mato was the first aider in the family. He always had a kit consisting of some methylated spirit, cotton, a pair of scissors, some iodine, bandages and other simple items in case someone had a cut or a burn. He was kind and he liked to attend to people’s needs.

Mellie was always a woman of faith and this enabled her to believe in providence all throughout her life. She believed that even if she did not have means today God would always show some light at the end of the tunnel. It was not easy. At difficult times when she felt someone was taking advantage of her she compared them to those who chew stones with other people’s teeth and do not know how it feels like. This was especially relevant when her employer treated her like trash, sending her home with no pay after she had done a day’s work. Her children learned to value work early in life from seeing their mother go through such hardship.

In order to continue working Mellie and her family occasionally had to move from one farm to another though never far away from each other. They lived from relative to relative, semi-nomadically, always staying as long as there was work or as long as they were allowed.

Once they were old enough Mulili and Loki left home and went to herd animals. At least that way they could get food and shelter. And they were away from the unpredictable violence of their father. Guy too left, but she left when the money ran out and Mellie could no longer afford to send her to school. Nobody knew for some time exactly what became of her. Eventually they learned that, like Guest, to whom Mellie had kept somewhat in contact, she had found someone who would love her. She had gotten married. In fact, it was to Guest that Guy first ran and Guest had tried to help. But Guy was strong-willed and unmoved from the path she decided to walk. She left Guest’s house shortly after arriving and disappeared again. It would be some time before she was seen again and any information about the life she had led or the man she had married remained as secret as those years she was away.

Now it was just Mellie, Mato and Ally.

Versus Fredrick.

It is said that the darkest hour is just before dawn. One evening Fredrick came home. He had been drinking for some time and as Mellie and her children had just moved he had some trouble finding them. When he did he was still intoxicated and he became very, very wild; wilder than Mellie had ever seen.

It was suppertime but the pot of food was over the fire boiling away. Fredrick grabbed it not feeling the burn and tried to throw it over Mellie. Luckily she was quick and she moved out of its way. He dropped the clay pot breaking it into pieces scattering the contents in and kicked the fire sending embers everywhere. The children’s eyes wet with despair after a long day of waiting for a meal! Mellie could see in his eyes a murderous rage she hadn’t seen before. She could see he was thirsting for her blood.

She looked at her two children and back at Fredrick. He had turned and was advancing towards her. As he stepped forward, his foot went into another pot and he stumbled and fell. This was Mellie’s chance. She had no choice.

Mellie grabbed her children, one in each arm and fled. Into the jungle, hearing Fredrick closing the distance, she ran, counting on him to not know this jungle as she did. It took some time but eventually his yells of drunken rage got further and further until they disappeared altogether. But Mellie did not stop running. She had learned all those years ago, that Fredrick could be sneaky. He had after all attacked Guest at their old neighbour’s house. Mellie dared not stop. He could be sneaky, but he could not be quick. If Mellie kept moving she would be safe. With Mato now on her back and Ally in tow, she ran.

This time she did not come back. As soon as she could, she left Ally with her relatives, safe from the reach of Fredrick. Ally was too small to travel unsupervised and Mellie could not carry him. Only Mato remained with her now. She did not cry as she said goodbye for she had a journey ahead and tears were energy she could not afford to waste.

During the day she travelled. The first day she caught the only bus in the area. Every second day one bus left the village, traveling one day and the returning the next. Luck had favoured Mellie for the bus was departing this morning.

She travelled as far as she dared on the bus before getting off to walk the rest of the way to her unknown destination. When she stepped onto the dirt she counted her belongings. There was no more money. She had used it to pay for her bus, planning to travel further but ultimately fearing the prying eyes of everyone around her.

She lifted her baby onto her back and tied him there using her flowery khanga. “My child, the safari has now started. We have to get past that hill over there. Kiima Kiu, the Black Hill.”

Mato, of course, understood none of this but Mellie was talking to herself as much as she was to him.

The bus had driven through most of the forty-two horseshoe corners of Makongo, up and down the hilly landscape. But the biggest and highest of hills was still in front of Mellie. She looked up at the bright afternoon sun. Two o’clock more or less. The sun here was consistent, rising and setting around six in the morning and evening. It didn’t take much to learn how to guess the time from looking up at the sky.

While the snaking roads offered smooth walking, being too long on them greatened her risk of being found. So most of the journey was across the jungle and forest lands. As Mellie stepped off the dirty road her canvas shoes winced as they came into contact with the barren ground. They were smooth at the soles and barely there. Mellie’s feet felt every pebble, every branch and every thorn.

Mellie was atop the second to last steep hill that she would have to climb. Ahead of her in the distance was the Black Hill but before she could make it there she would have to descend this one. Every ounce of her had to focus on not falling as the steep descent began. To her right, the bus had left, driving slowly out of shot. Soon it would bend around another horseshoe and come back, winding its way down the hill. Mellie’s direct approach would out speed the bus, though the bus didn’t have to worry about tumbling down the hill.

Mellie grabbed for every tree root and branch as she made her descent. With her son on her back she keenly steadied her knees and selectively stepped on the firm rocks. She avoided looking too far ahead in case she got dizzy. With a slowly dehydrated and hungry child on her back, this was the quickest and best way to her destination, wherever that was.

As she thought of the child on her back, the others came to mind. Where were they? Were they alive? Her pace began to slow. No! Mellie emptied her mind. She could think of nothing but the journey, nothing but her next stop. She needed to find somewhere she could stay and somewhere she could eat. She hadn’t eaten since the night before.

Her foot slipped on a detached branch and Mellie fell. Her hand tightened around the root she was holding and her bottom took the fall. She winced and began to swear before changing her mind and pleading for help from her Lord.

“Mary Mother of Mercy, help me and my child.”

She checked that her son was alright. A little shocked but unhurt, Mato remained relatively oblivious to the trials that were upon him. Mellie remained seated long enough to reach for some tobacco she was carrying. Chewing it would sharpen her mind.

She kept walking down the valley. The hours creeped on. By the time she came to the bottom the first signs of dusk were surfacing. As she approached the bottom of the hill, there was evidence of a river with huge, green trees found only in places with underground rivers. But she couldn’t see any water. She was dehydrated and she needed to drink badly. This area was deserted and she needed to climb out before darkness fell. She walked up the bed and found a path to climb from the valley. It was badly eroded with bare rocks and branches scattered loosely but she had no choice. She kept climbing.

Suddenly the sound of bells broke the silence of Mellie’s panting breathe. It was the sound of mission bells.

“It is six o’clock, my son. That is the bell for the Angelus.”

Making the sign of the cross she began to pray in her mind. She could do this. When she had finished the prayer, her tired legs walked a little faster. She still had a few kilometres to cover and dusk was approaching fast. She passed some herds of cattle as they were coming home from grazing.

After the sun hit the horizon, it took only half an hour for the land to go completely black. Just before this time, with the tiniest of rays of sun still peaking over the edge of the earth, Mellie saw the cross on the top of the mission building. She could hear voices.

Mato had fallen asleep from exhaustion and hunger.

She saw the gate of the church. She stopped, made the sign of the cross and was grateful God had brought her this far. Then she entered, seeking shelter for the night.

The thin souls of her shoes were now riddled with holes.

The next day her journey continued. It would take a few days before she would cross the Black Hill. After that, who knew? All she had to do was keep going. During the days she walked when she could and she sought shelter from the hot sun when her child could take the heat no longer. During the night she stopped at people’s homes, if she could. In this scarcely populated land, connections were made by saying what clan one originated from. For many years, people were prohibited from marrying from the same clan because they were seen as sisters and brothers. And so if Fredrick’s father came from one clan, the wife, or wives, had to come from different clan. Therefore, when strangers met introductions would consist of the name of the person followed by the father’s clan and the mother’s clan. That way, both people would somehow find a point of connection, even if it was as far up as their grandfather’s wife’s clan.

In this way, strangers would become family and hospitality was always given to family. Mellie managed to survive the nights through these encounters, though she would still have to toil in the farm for a few hours the next day to pay back the goodness given to her, before she continued her journey.

Eventually Mellie made it to her sister in-law. She was washed out and needed food and a place to sleep. The baby on her back, her seventh child, had sucked all the milk and she felt like it was sucking blood. Mellie explained to the sister-in-law what was going on with her husband, that she had no place to stay with the children, that she had now come to the end of her tether and had left him. She begged and pleaded, asking for a place to stay and food to eat. But she had forgotten that blood was thicker than water and her sister-in-law would not help her. So Mellie pleaded more. Eventually, the sister-in-law relented and Mellie was sent to share the night with the chicken and the goats.

That was a long night for Mellie and her child sitting there in the barn made of wound-together trees for walls and a grass-thatched roof. In here the wind could easily enter and the warmth could easily escape. The hard and rocky floor interspersed with hay and bird feed and faeces was no bed. All kinds of pests were here, including mites and ticks and spiders. Was that a creeping creature, prowling around Mellie and her child? Goat pee drenched the barn dispelling it of oxygen. The smell was a killer. In spite of her being deadbeat, she hardly closed her eyes. What a long night before dawn?

“Imagine spending a night with a baby in such a place. I will never ever forget as long as I live.” She said out loud to nobody, for there was nobody to tell it to.

She had spent the whole night interceding to ‘Our Lady’.

“Hail Mary full of grace…. Please help know what to do. I don’t know what to do in this situation. Show me some light”.

She then remembered she had been saying her rosary and continued … “Pray for us sinners, now and at the hour of our death. Amen.”

She consistently squeezed bead after bead till morning broke. She left silently early the next morning for a destination unknown to her, surviving like before, eating if she could and toiling in the fields to pay for her nights rest. She walked for weeks in total, telling nobody where she was going. How could she? She didn’t know where she was going. And even if she did, she did not want anyone to know in case they broke the news to her husband, who was presumably still hunting her.

Her parents-in-law had died and her sister Maria was married far away. Who was she to turn to? She thought of her godmother, Telesia. Maybe she would put Mellie up for some time before deciding what to do next. She walked and walked for days, over the hills and down the valleys till she got to her godmother whom she had not seen since her teenage years. She was a strong and tough woman but this journey was more than she had ever done before, more than the hours ploughing the fields, more than the unending number of trees she had uprooted, more than any of the work she had done. If she could survive this she would be set to take on any challenge that faced her.

If she could survive.

When she got closer to her destination she realised she didn’t know where the house was, so she went to the local parish to get directions, for she knew her godmother was a well-known parishioner. By the time she was nearing the parish she was weather-beaten. She dragged her lead-heavy feet, blistered and burning through the thick calluses’ life had built up for her. She had walked so long that stopping made her feet sear with pain. When she wiped her face, her hand had white crystals from dehydration. Her lips were as dry as dust and her tongue cracked. She felt like she would lose her mind from thirst. A figure began walking towards her, blurry as a mirage.

“Ah! Dear Jesus and His holy mother! Is this you Mellie, my child?”

It was Telesia. Mellie’s heart leapt, if that was still a possible exertion of energy. Her godmother continued, “What a pleasant surprise! I have been thinking about you lately and then God brings you to me. Welcome my daughter. Sit down and tell me all about yourself.”

Mellie was led into a quiet room in the parish. When she sat, she grimaced as the pain in her feet flared up before subsiding into a manageable ache. Her godmother waited patiently, for she could see that whatever had happened to Mellie was intense and would soon be revealed to her. Mellie was given water to drink and some food to eat. Her godmother waited.

The reunion was electrifying. The two women connected on a heart to heart level that Mellie had not experienced in a long time. The room was like a confessional box, listening without judging as Mellie and Telesia talked. There they sat for most of the night as each shared in the effect of elapsed time, updating and reliving each of their lives.

It was here that Mellie’s life began to change. In that parish there was a missionary priest. Her godmother advised her, “Sure, you have nothing to lose by telling him your story.” Mellie considered it and decided to try. She pleaded with this Holy Ghost Missionary to give her a job.

She started, “I have six children. Wedded in the church and my husband has turned violent and wants to kill us all. I have been doing manual jobs to provide for the family. My husband has sold our land and cattle. Whenever he is told I have been seen in a particular place, he comes to get me. I’ve walked for weeks to get here as I’ve nowhere else to go. If I do not get any job, my children will die. Actually, I do not know where some of my children are and neither do they know where I am. I have one desire – to get my family together and be able to feed them.”

At this, she blinked to keep back tears but it was too late. She broke down and her river of pain began to flow. She had kept it together for so long and the dam which was holding it back broke with a force she could not remember feeling before. It was the only way she could keep going – by looking and being strong. She could not remember ever before opening her soul to anyone who just listened and listened. She could feel her heart threatening to break free from her ribcage. She wished aloud that she could reverse her motherhood. “I sometimes wish I could ‘swallow’ these children! That way they would be free from this pain of life.”

Her suffering was heart-breaking and dehumanizing. The priest simply listened and took in her story. His softened heart was seen in the change in his eyes as he heard and felt all the pain that Mellie had gone through. When she was finished he thought for a few moments and eventually told her to go see Friar Kablack. He could get her a job, though it wouldn’t be a particularly glamourous one.

Mellie was grateful. She could not believe what she had heard father say. Her heart beat a little faster but this time with joy of expectation. She did not mind. It was a job and that was all she needed. All agreed it was the foundation by which Mellie could begin to rebuild her life. She was able to find joy in any kind of job for she was hardworking and devoted.

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Chapter five – Reflection Time: hard times pass.

When we do not stay conscious and aware of our feelings or what happens to us when we experience others and life, then, we may be choosing to repeat what has been done to us. I want to encourage you to know that there is hope of behaviour change even when we have observed and experienced violence.

I would like to invite you to imagine you are in a very safe place. Imagine and create your space and make it as safe as you can. Maybe you imagine surrounded by people you love and who value you. Feel this safety for a little longer. Feel your breath getting long and deep. Feel your body becoming warm and relaxed. Your heart rate has slowed down as you feel safe and loved.

Remember that:

You do not do anything that deserves violence.

Violence affects us and others.

We can learn new ways of being with each other.

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~CHAPTER SIX~

EXPERIENCE: Job, glorious job…

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What are you grateful for in your life right now? See if even in the midst of all that is happening you can create time to notice the blessings.

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When Mellie got the job, she only knew the whereabouts of two out of six of her children. She informed her employer about her five other children and that she did not know where four of them were – for she knew where Ally was and Mato was with her. She knew they were not in school. Before beginning her job and starting her new life, her employer allowed her to hunt down her children. Presumably they were roughly in the same area.

Leaving Mato in the care of her godmother, Mellie ventured forth. She began by going back to her brother’s home. The return journey was not as long or as tedious as the one before as she was given some small money for the buses. She had a bounce in her steps and confidence as she walked straight. The last time she had felt this sense of purpose was when she was newly married. For some reason she no longer feared – or she no longer cared – being discovered by Fredrick. Either way, he would not be searching along this route.

It still took her a few days on the slow buses but when she arrived she discovered that Guy, her second daughter had eloped. Rather than spending the nights outside and miserable, she opted for the lesser evil – marriage. This way at least she could sleep peacefully and settle into a routine, rather than spend her life fighting to survive.

During Mellie’s time, tribes lived in specific areas, occupying land of around seventy kilometres in radius. To leave this area and go where they did not speak their language was too great a risk for Mellie’s lost children. So she thought they would be somewhere in this area.

Because relationships were tracked through clan and lineage and Mellie knew her children could only really get jobs as herders, she knew where and how to look. She walked many kilometres long, searching here and there, asking for the aid of strangers.

“I am Mellie and I am looking for two youngsters aged between 7 and 14. Could you have seen or got word about such children? The bigger one is Mulili and both resemble each other very much.”

This she would ask and if she received a negative response she would move on and ask the next. Finally, one day she asked a homeowner this. He called to the local herdsman to see if the herdsman knew. The herdsman was an elderly man who was off duty and relaxing in the sunshine. His age and demeanour showed he had been herding for some time and if these children were anywhere near, he would know. “Kiatu, come here. Have you seen any new boys herding in the neighbourhood? The two are aged 7 and 14?”

Kiatu looked into the space above him in an attempt to remember. “They were not herding, but about a month ago I saw two boys playing a polythene ball at the river. They were about the age you speak of and both in tatters. But I’m afraid I haven’t seen them since this day.”

Mellie wasn’t sure if she should hope or despair. A month was a long time, yet they couldn’t get that far.

Kiatu interrupted her thought. “Follow this murram road,” he pointed the way to a road which ran some way into the distance. “After that stony hill, there is a school on the right. Next to it, there is an iron thatched house and a bougainvillea tree with purple flowers at the gate. Go and enquire from there. They may know.”

Mellie thanked them and continued with her journey. As she walked along she kept asking anybody walking past her about the duo. But nobody knew any more than the herdsman had already told her. Before the hill lay a seasonal river where the animals drank. Some boys were playing by the riverbed and her heart jumped. The closer she moved towards them the more they looked unfamiliar to her. Anyhow, she still asked these boys but they did not know. Maybe they had seen them some time ago but they were not sure.

So Mellie continued. At least she was going in the right direction.

As she walked, her feet burned in the afternoon sun. She had shoes with thin soles for the only other pair she owned had been destroyed by her previous walk. When she arrived at the house with the purple flowers at the gate she began to walk towards it but the dogs barked wildly and she stopped.

“Are the owners in?” She shouted loudly so someone in the house could hear. She was afraid of dogs for she had once been attacked by a dog with rabies in one of her escapes.

There was no response. She shouted again. The dogs continued to bark. Her hands were getting wet with sweat. She slowly begun to take tiny steps backwards while keeping an eye on the dogs. This was a tactic she had learnt in regard to wild animals – as much as possible you did not show them your back. Just then, the face of a boy popped out from behind a nearby tree. It was so covered in dust that only the whites of the eyes shone in the sun.

Mellie called again.

The boy recognised the voice and turned around, disappearing momentarily to shout “Mulili, Mulili. Come here! Mom is here!!” Then Loki reappeared and ran towards his mom and jumped into her arms.

A moment later, Mulili appeared in the distance, running. He too, almost ran through his mother as he embraced her. Mellie cried tears for joy. She had her sons back. But there were tears of sadness in her eyes as well. As she rubbed their back she felt their tiny bones! How thin they were. How in tatters. They had barely eaten.

By now, the owner had come out of the house, in shock. Mellie’s mood was ecstatic but she calmed herself down to greet the homeowner and to explain the situation before continuing on her journey.

The clothes her children had on their backs were the same as the ones worn when they left home. They were nearly completely shredded. Both boys’ hair was brown from malnourishment and their skin was pale and scaly. The size of their heads was exaggerated and their stomachs were bloated from lack of food. But they were over the moon, it could be seen in their bright eyes and their smiles were a sight to behold. This soothed Mellie’s heart momentarily.

As Mulili and Loki held their mother’s hands, each competed to tell their version of the story. Because they were herding they often didn’t return till late in the evening and they were not guaranteed food. Like many other herding boys, they lived on wild fruit and small animals that they would hunt and roast as the animals grazed. Sometimes when hunger stung unbearably, they would milk the goats and take the milk raw while grazing.

“Mom, how did you know where we were?” Loki asked.

“My child, I never stopped praying for you since the day you ran away. Mary is the mother of mercy.”

Mellie held back a tear and relished the thought: she had found her children.

It was a few hours journey to where Ally was but they made it with surprising speed, all pushed forward by the excitement of reuniting. Ally was young and so did not know the situation and why he was left there. When he saw his mother, he was happy and ran to her. Now her children were here. For Guest and Guy, she prayed. Life, she hoped, was treating them better than it did during the days of Fredrick.

At her relatives’ house Mellie and her children were all given food and, perhaps the biggest blessing of all, a car to take them back home! This was a great joy for Mellie and she said little, enjoying the immense blessing of not having to worry.

As the crow flies her new home was not far but the crow flies over forests and other unconquerable lands. It would still take several days of walking and busing to reach if Mellie had to travel back. Who knew if she could make the journey with three of her children? Her journey of escape was a long, winding and unclear one and so it took many more weeks than it should have.

But all that was done now and Mellie could look to the future. When she brought them back she got them readmitted into primary school. They were as happy as larks to be back together. They completed their schooling and continued to secondary school. Mellie was able to pay for their education now that she was on a payroll. And things began to return to normal.

***

All the time that Mellie ran and during the day searched for her children, Fredrick hunted for her. But Mellie was blessed for though their neighbours knew little of where she was going and where her children were, what little they knew they didn’t tell. They knew what kind of man Fredrick was and they weren’t going to help him with his schemes.

So Fredrick knew not what to do. And the more he searched but did not find, the angrier he got. He would go to his first-born daughter’s home he thought. Guest might know. Guest had not returned since the day she ran away and eloped. She still held the scar along her palm and forearm where Fredrick had attacked her all those years ago.

Guest was living at home while her husband was in Nairobi. He had a good job and thus was afforded the opportunity to have a home here, sending money while he worked in the city. By the time Fredrick got to the house it was already dark. He had thought that his wife was hiding there because he knew Guest and Mellie still kept in touch and that Mellie had visited Guest before. He demanded that his daughter tell him where her mother was. When she said she had not seen her for ages, he did not believe her. His anger had reached a tipping point. He had come in drunk. He felt rage within him but he had no way to let it out. He looked for a knife but saw none. He shouted. As he left to go he saw the fire burning and slowly walked towards the kitchen.

Guest did nothing. As long as one is a child, one cannot stand up to a parent, especially an enraged drunk parent. And parents, especially fathers, should be respected. She remained stuck to her seat and watched Fredrick. Men did not enter kitchens for traditionally it was a woman’s territory, but in he went breaking boundaries. She observed him bend to pick something from the heath….he did not smoke so what was he doing going to the fire place? It was still.

Fredrick took a log from the fire and threw it on to the house, setting it ablaze. Then he left, the glow of the burning building in the background.

Guest was for some few seconds glued to the ground, unable to believe her eyes, just blank. Then she blinked to reality and with a sudden rush of adrenalin sprang up to grab what she could in the seconds before the house was completely consumed. She ran to her husband who was in Nairobi. The house made primarily of wood and mud went up in flames almost immediately and how could she make sense of this behaviour? In Nairobi she remained until enough money had been raised to rebuild their home.

***

According to the Kamba culture, a man cannot allow his sister and her husband to stay on his land. There are various reasons for this, one of which is to do with the expectation that men are providers enough for their family. When Fredrick was deemed incapable of taking care of his wife, it was incredibly degrading. He was despised for selling his land and then going on to ask to be put up in the same neighbourhood. A man’s family should not be dependent on other men.

So, when Mellie approached her stepbrother about staying with his family, he was hesitant. This was the brother to whom the bride price had been paid to making the situation more complicated. A married woman cannot return to her parent’s house for there are issues of inheritance and land ownership. As Mellie’s father had died, this brother acted as her parents and so it was deemed inappropriate for her to return.

Her step brother was aware of what his sister had gone through but he was a man. He had responsibilities to his own family and bringing his sister together with her husband onto his land might not be deemed appropriate. She pleaded with him greatly and eventually he relented, showing her a plot of land far from the house on which to construct a semi-permanent house. This was on condition that her husband would never come to live on it. Mellie’s husband could not be allowed to live on the land. Never.

Now that he had given her a place to live in, he expected her children to avail themselves to work whenever there was manual work on his farm. He would come to her house very early before dawn and call the children to go and plough his vast land. Whenever he got up before dawn, he wrapped his torso in his blanket and walked out in the cool morning. He stood in the middle of his farm and pointed to where the workers needed to till. He would say, “You weed beginning from that tree over there to that mango tree.” This would be an area so large it would take them nearly three days to cultivate. Yet, he wanted it done in a day. Come evening he would pass by to evaluate.

Mellie’s brother ran his home with an iron fist. He had a long whip which he used to beat his wives and children. He would ensure that everyone was working with the crack of that whip. Once, before Mellie arrived, there was a famine and the food stocks were running low. One of his wives went to him and reported there was no food for them. In his house he ate, even if the others went hungry. But they still needed some food so he went to the field and told his wife to take the skinniest cow he could see. He told her to sell it at the market for no less than five thousand shillings, an obscene price for a half-starved cow.

They could do nothing but obey. Whoever haggled at its price was turned back and went their way. All the other sellers sold their cows cheaper and were able to buy food for their families. Every week these women walked the long distance until they tired of it, by which time the famine was over. Although the cow was saved, it took their families months to recover from the starvation they suffered in the famine.

Despite the knowledge of this and the fear of the man with the whip, Mellie and her family had a home like they had not had for several years now. They had a place they could sleep in peace.

Mellie was a good woman although her life had been one of pain caused largely by her husband. She lived in the hope that her husband would return to her. She still thought he would once more be a gentle and loving man. “God gave him to me. Maybe if I keep praying for him, he will be nice to me and treat me as when we first married”. And she prayed for him.

During their engagement and early marriage, he had been kind and endearing. She knew he was capable of being loving. They had wedded in the Catholic Church and her conscience could not allow her to leave him. It was church law that couples stay together for better or worse. The church did not leave any leeway. Had the church ever imagined there actually was a ‘worse’ side of marriage?

Mellie also did not want to risk being called a prostitute. It was assumed that any woman walking out of a marriage was solely to engage in promiscuity. A divorcee was taken to be difficult and unmarriageable. Such a woman would be treated as an outcast. She would be blamed, even if her husband had been at fault. A woman such as this was not allowed to continue partaking of all the sacraments as expected of all good Catholics. Mellie was a woman of faith and to be ostracised from her church would be too difficult to handle. Faith was her stronghold.

As time went on Fredrick did find Mellie. Either due to a lack of knowledge of his behaviour or a deep-seated understanding that a husband and wife should stay together. He was eventually told by those who knew where his wife was. He never stayed for more than a short time and soon left to look for work and food. But he did come back occasionally and only for moments.

And when he did, when he was in anyway remorseful and apologetic, Mellie received him with open arms. Today was such a day and it was on this day that she conceived her last born.

Her name was to be Baby.

Chapter Six – reflections: Time for celebration

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Take a moment to celebrate your role in your child’s life as a father and a mother

To appreciate every life you have carried in your womb.

Those that you cannot celebrate, what is the story?

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END OF PART I