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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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If I should break my leg

Earlier on I had asked friends what their greatest fears were (are). I had noted mine as the fear to break my leg. I really fear being unable to locomote easily. I regard it as the worst thing that may happen in my lifetime. And whether this is symbolic to inner aspirations I know not. It would inconvenience all that I do.

I wouldn't die anyway if it happened though the fear of death is precedented by leg breakage. On that day that I shall lie down, my leg hung, bandaged, unable to ever adventure again, a change to my gait, needing support to access the lavatory, I will weep internally of the past good days.

The few adventures I have undertaken, the bike cycles, ball play, hikes, both necessary and unnecessary sojourns, been called flexible and easy to go along with because of the legs. Two, not one. People will be turning their eyes to see how unsteady I would be without crutches. I would inconvenience many for they would be forced to act with my slow pace. And the way people are always on the run! I would avoid the city and crowded places like hell.

Breaking should it do so, I pray to be on my way seeking adventure. It would be as I slipped on a slippery stone as I jumped. Not because the Bus was carelessly driven or the motorbike was unroadworthy.  I would break my leg in a way that I would want to nicely remember. It would be like a joke. I would feel a slight pain, not what happens when the knee splits open, the thigh tears away and the doctor chops it by the girdle. I would want to drink a potent life ender.

I should not have been to a task, more so for money gain or search for pleasure. It would be sorry for me and for others. They would come in to say their sorries, sorries I hate.  No one should know. I would kneel, cry, weep and limp away from my adventure as the break point grew worse. I would still walk home before it became worse. I would seek medical advice only to be told...'crutches, you would be on crutches forever.'

And I would not lift to heavens for a prayer to be 'healed' nor would I admire those at ease on two. I will lack outdoor events for my diary but will acquire more indoor ones for it. I would read my diary with a sob, of the places and events I went to. Of the days I was as fast and stable. For my leg would have made me sit down and treasure it all.

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