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Heavy responsibilities for elder aunt among the Logooli

With Seenge Fonesi. She is the elder grand daughter of Isagi and elder daughter of Amugasya. She is often present in functions involving the family of Amugasya. Pic taken on 18/4/2024. The elder sister soon becomes the elder aunt. It is this “seenge munene” (elder aunt) tag that she is tied to many cultural responsibilities – back home. To her marital family she may appear as any other woman, but she is not so in the eyes of her people. Marriage does not steal her away as it would happen with other daughters of the old man. To her, as days go and the old man and woman of the estate are dependents, she becomes increasingly present.  Her brothers also need her for almost all traditional markings. They are marrying, she needs to welcome the new wife. They are giving birth, she needs to come to midwife or “bless” the new born. They are paying dowry she needs to lead the women delegate. There is a conflict she needs to come for a hearing.  And many others. Traditions does not expect her to
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He doesn't expect rain, him, son of a step-mother.

The clouds are hanging heavily low and this post may lose time if it falls before it is posted. I may be one of the people keeping the rain away. Workers who have to travel home are afraid that if a drop hits the soil, the fare will mystically shift from affordable to a luxury. Women, more afraid to wet their hair will have their moods quickly abated. And so there are people, against my wishes wishing that it doesn’t rain, at least not now.

Noisy wet wind…


If the wish of a man was his will, what a world would we be in? Norman Garbo writes that what makes human superior to other animals is their hands- not mind. Not legs. The cattle that crossed Ngong Road today to Dagoretti in search of pasture could also see the hanging clouds and in their minds, knowing or not whether it will rain, decided not to wait for death when the herder led them. To fathom the status of grass blades two years since it showered is to ignore the strive of cactus whose ancestors were lucky to receive death rains during Noah’s phenomenacal flood.

The grass can just dry. Who cares?

Our green house supply chain stocks vegetables in the market. It would be the pleasure of such a farmer that if it rains, it rain destructively. Agriculture is no longer done to feed the stomachs and cohere families. It is done to take sons to school, buy recent technology, car or enter a mortgage deal. Not everyone wants the free rain.

It won’t take a day after it starts raining that uncultivated souls will curse it to go rain in the country side. What is rain for in the city? The site of muddy roads may not be equally demeaning than the site of a dusty path. Stagnant water is an enemy. It destroys the tarmac roads, insects breed, frogs noise up, snails find their way in and movements are curtailed.
We will hate you as we hate our jobs, schools, lives, friends, parents and many other things.

And so rains please don’t come. Some of us, like in politics, do not like you. And if grudgingly you appear, don’t spoil our days. Rain in the night and let the sun rule the day. Let the poor farmers and their soil remain poor. Do not enrich them. But let us sell umbrellas and cardigans in masses. If the poor man drowns, it is his mistake. If the rich are swept away in their cars, the government did not do enough. For we do not know or care knowing if there is joy in budding lantana camara.


That is our wish. We, sons of a step mother speak. 



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