In the mid twentieth century,
when the world was quiet and chehozerizu,
women from Gavudia, Banja, Idaho, Kisa, Banja and places beyond knew where proper
clothes were made - Erong’ele. We now know it as Lunyerere, quiet a place not
because the world is any more at ease but out of neglect and ruin. It is
commonly mentioned and one would wonder what landmark makes it so? Lunyerere
was Kisumu!, exclaimed Erika. Then, food found food in granaries. We went from
millet ugali to maize to millet.
I was armed to ask about
Stend Kisa for I thought was better of a place before. Wamazobi was the initial
name of the place. The son of Mazobi, Gwage, later became a village elder. The Wamazobi
junction, whose road lead to Kisa, was full of matagaro plants. Goats fed much
and open air defecation transpired. Stend is a corruption of Stage when modes
of transport became auto. Lower from there, a small town heaved with sewers and
Indian businesses.
Siribahi* the Greatest was
the Indian leader at the place and people born in his era were baptized his
name. He knew lulogoli. He amazed the locals by their culture of cremating the
dead with lots of firewood. Erika’s husband was his driver and the lorry was
among many others that carried sand, cement, iron sheets, timber, wool and shop
items. The railway in South Kavirondo brought in goods from the coast. Varogoli
started building shops in the Duka format and it spread far. A window pane
whose glasses are held by timber pieces and not putty excels their marksmanship
in both modern and ancient marksmanship. Mbale as a growing town will take time
before the ‘Indian face’ is replaced.
As to why the place was seen
best for Indian settlement could be because of its nearness to the river and
the main road heading to Munoywa that would bring people from North Maragoli.
Wrong roads were tarmacked, it could be. Feeder roads serve more people than
main roads. Luanda would be accessed
easily while the rough road ran to Kakamega. Lunyerere as a name if not a
person’s it could be the thin shop corridors or the splitting river.
Raheli was one of the
maragoli midwifes who were called to help Indian women while in labour. These
women were respected and treated fairly by the Indians. Marriage to locals did
not happen. There was introduced an Indian school opened on 8/12/1946 when the
sun was about to cross to Capricorn which is now opportunistically labeled
Friends Training Centre Chavakali CYM. So many education initiatives have been
tried at the place to no success. On the day of my visit a mould of charcoal burning
fumed past the pillars to the insides.
The rivono seeds are what lorries often collected from the farms. It is
said that oil was made from it. If you do not know rivono you may have played with its leaf stalk while a child. The hollow
stalk is what we used to cut and on the ends tie nylons. Like a flute, we had
sides burrowed and blew to different tunes. The seeds have a thorny surface. This
was quickly replaced by tea and coffee.
In the seventies when the
late Peter Kibisu and other criminals of his time (Yohana Amugune and religious
affiliated people were not in terms too) lead a wrong political agenda of
chasing ‘outsiders’, Siribahi and his Krishna descendants left Kihari. Kihari
is compared to an orphan whose mother is halfly buried at her parent’s home and
the paternal people in attendance, knowing that the relationship was badly over
through death, took the Ikemefuna away never to turn his neck.
In their cry, the Indians left heading to
Kisumu, leaving the toil of their sweat behind and in crossing Izava, they
spoke, ‘we did not take their land, yet they have chased us. We did not do them
bad, yet they have done us bad. Some belongings were thrown in the river.’ And
now cows are tethered in what used to be a clean busy place. The grabbers are
long dead, the sons drunk to the core and grandchildren scattered to towns in
Indian shops begging for labour. Those who live in the rooms are outcasts,
women who have no husbands. The Dukas are closed, the place is silent, ruined, sleeping,
disturbing.
Comments
Post a Comment