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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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Izava Walk : Tiriki borders Maragoli

Mark Induraji had just showered in Izava with water drops dripping from hair. A piece of what used to be a mosquito net had washed him clean. His cows grazed their last as he would untie them soon for home. A boy with a bag and clipboard approached him.

Lwandoni used be called Busingu because then men and boys herded down there. Isingu is the name for cow dung. The area was full of dung.

Induraji talks with Tiriki accent but was born a Mdidi from the great Bakizungu clan. Ahead, two farms probably, a stream from Mago used to mark a boundary between Tirikis and Maragolis. Another stream from Kwa Jeshi in Mago joined Izava from Riverside ridge. Lwenya is opposite.

Two cheeky women who washed across the river were lively in saying they are Vakihayo. I met them when a girl called Sheila had walked away when I wanted to speak with her by the spring. In their cheekiness, they pointed me to a girl who was washing beside them.
'Come with two hundred thousand! She is finished university!' One shouted.
In my reply, she answered, ' Wewe kama ungezaliwa msichana...'

When cows saw me, they thought I had come to untie them for home. They looked expectantly and unhappily circled to the stretch of their ropes when I went away. Unfortunate animals.

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