Khalayi PT 2.

Khalayi
It seems like a dream even to you. There are many women in the village but you managed to get the best. Khalayi, the good one. If you knew how to count you would know that she has lived for 19 years. Her lips part into a bewitching smile, revealing a set of snow white teeth. Up to this day, she is still shy. Besides it's bad manners to look your husband straight in the eyes. Her eyes, that seem to be dancing in their sockets, dart everywhere but at you as she lays the food carefully on the wooden stool. As shy as she maybe, she still seems mature and assured.

The next day you pick up your hunting gear and set off for the forest. On the way you meet a big woman. That's the polite word for fat women in the village. She looks like she has just swallowed a small calf. You have to give way as the footpath is narrow. She lumbers past you laboriously. Her heavy breathing is intense. Leaves shake with her every gasp. This one can blow away a small child when she sneezes. You can't help but chuckle. Her king size  buttocks dance vigorously to the rhythm of her laboured walk.

She eats like an elephant

You think of Wanyonyi the poor man that married her. You feel sorry for him. You remember the day Mandari told you that she eats like an elephant. Sometimes she forces her husband to cook. Abomination! He can't dare utter a word. The thought of a man in the kitchen is unheard of. It's not only shameful but also punishable by public flogging. Although you have never witnessed such a punishment, it's a law that everyone knows but never talks about. Normal women don't let their men near a ningilo.

Along the way you see a young woman with a pot on the head heading for the river. She greets you coyly like all the young women in the village do. Apart from her waist beads the only other thing she's wearing is piece of goat skin tied around her waist barely covering her thighs, and a smile.

A group of four young men suddenly emerge from a nearby bush and grab the girl. Her pot crashes against the red soil and is smashed into little pieces. The girl lets out a horrified cry. She is then whisked away shoulder high still wailing and throwing feeble kicks. You go on your way. She's not in any danger. She was being taken to a suitor's hut. Perhaps she's one of those stubborn types that needed motivation before leaving her father's home. You think of Wanyonyi's wife. It would have taken fifteen strong men to lift the hippo an inch off the ground.

Talk of the devil and you meet her husband. You see Wanyonyi in his farm weeding. His bare back glistens in the scorching sun. His small farm has all sorts of foodstuff. He has to work twice as hard as any man to produce enough food for his wife. On a good day they say, she can eat all the sweet potatoes in the farm in a sitting without breaking a sweat. Begs the question, does she eat so much because she's huge or is she huge because she eats so much? One day she fell with a thud trying to catch a child who had whispered rather too loudly that she eats a lot because she has three layers of stomachs like a cow. The other kids burst into a roar of laughter that floated in the otherwise boring humid afternoon air much to the the dismay of the victim. She fell and stayed there for a while because picking herself up was another tasking job in itself.

You exchange pleasantries.

"Mlembe swa omwami, wateka"

"Swa swa wandase, ne nawe wesi... "

"We thank God for life "

" The rains have delayed but you cannot nag the gods or question their schedule "

He asks you about Khalayi. You say she's fine. He asks when to expect a little one. You laugh and say that you're working round the clock but children come from the gods. He nods in agreement. Wiping the sweat off his brow with the back of his hand, he sits down. You bid him goodbye and leave.

You walk past Wekesa's compound. A young child is yelling at the top of his voice. He is receiving a thorough beating from his mother.

"Why are you crying yet no one has touched you? " the mother screams at the boy, after whipping him three times on the legs and once on his bare back. 

A puddle of warm urine

The boy attempts to plead his case but the words barely leave his throat after he unexpectedly receives a resounding right handed slap that lands squarely on his ear. The one that leaves your ear ringing the whole evening. A second slap zooms in this time from the left side. Soon the little boy was standing in a puddle of warm urine that flowed down his legs inadvertently.

"How many times have I asked you not to climb trees and scale walls? " the angry woman barks. "Yesterday you almost broke your arm and here you are again."

The boy sobs, and blows his nose noisily, standing nervously , wary of another sudden slap.

" Ewe! Are you deaf..., "

" I am sorry mayi, I won't repeat... "

" Shut up, who told you to speak? "

This words are escorted by a slap which misses the target as the boy ducks and bolts away crying. Other kids who were watching from a safe distance scamper away lest they are caught up in the ripple effect.  
When she turns and sees you the scowl on her face gives way to  a warm smile. She waves at you and says something about "these kids nowadays." She asks you to pass her regards to your wife. 
The narrow path to the forest is full of undergrowth crawling onto the path. You still nearer the village than the forest so you meet many people. Bare chested rascals running along the path and giggling girls rushing to and from the stream, exchanging rumours about pretty much everything that goes on in the village. They say that if you want news to spread faster than a rabbit running away from danger then tell it to a woman and ask her not to tell anyone. A story is told of a man who told his wife a secret and asked her to keep mum, but when he arrived at the drinking joint in the village just moments later the lively drinkers who had been carousing all afternoon were already talking about it.
 As you approach the forest you meet fewer people. A few hunters coming from the forest with a kill or two. The path becomes narrower and lined with dense vegetation. The chatter of humans starts fading into an indistinct buzz that seems to float lazily on the afternoon wind. Soon all you can hear is chirps and croaks of birds and toads.  

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 You hope to catch something today. You know your wife is out gathering fruits and vegetables. You see some wild rabbits. The ones referred to as wanakhamuna in stories told by women to children. They are usually very hard to catch. Stealthily, you creep up on them and hide behind a tree. You try as much as possible not rustle the dry leaves under your feet. You grab your bow and arrow and take an aim. Perfect. You target a specific one that has isolated itself away from the rest of the drove. Your prey is totally unwary of the danger and impending death. It raises its head taking a break from nibbling on some nuts and places it's nose in the air as if trying to smell danger. You hold your breath. Soon it's nibbling away furiously. Just when you're about to take a shot, you are suddenly gripped by a strong urge to sneeze. You try to fight it with all your might. It's futile. You inexorably let out a loud sneeze that obviously scares away all the hares and you stand there cursing and kicking stuff. You hit your toe on outgrowing root of a tree, and the pain stings like a bee. You hop up and down on one foot while holding the injured toe. 

You sit under the tree. Another fruitless day. You already feel tired, yet you have just arrived in the forest. They have to understand though that you have just married a young wife. That means you spend much of your night time on your bamboo bed as opposed to being in Kukhu Namukuru's hut. But everybody knows that very little sleeping goes on there. No wonder you feel so tired without doing much. As the old men like to say so often, if you don't weed your cassavas, a neighbour will do it for you. A warm, fuzzy feeling massages your heart, when you think about your young wife back at home. You almost spring to your feet with the thought of rushing home just to see her beautiful face and hear her angelic voice but then you remember that your role as a man is to provide and here you're planning to trudge back to the village empty handed. You stand up dejectedly and walk farther into the forest. Weary, but motivated. 

Annoying singer 

The vegetation becomes denser with every step into the forest. Thick thickets give way to large, natural trees and all sorts of undergrowth. The soft ground is moist and the air is humid. The trees whistle in the wind. The birds seem to be in a competition  to find the loudest and the most annoying singer. The long grass slaps dew on to your feet. 

The gods answer your prayer even before you say it. A large impala is grazing peacefully a few meters away. It doesn't spot you. Your arrow sticks into it's neck. It doesn't give a fight. It limps weakly and collapses, its pitiful large eyes wide open. You are proud of yourself. This is the largest animal you have ever managed to kill. You don't even feel its weight on the way back to the village. You hope to meet many people on the way back just to show off your kill. You can't wait to see Khalayi. She will be proud of her man. Master hunter. The girls you meet on the path to the stream watch in awe. You grin. They don't know that it was simply your lucky day. You closed your eyes and released the arrow. The gods were wide awake and they favoured you. You notice that Wanyonyi is still in his farm. He is not the most hardworking man in the village. He is just scared to go home and meet his wife. 

The children scream as you walk into the massive compound in which you live with almost everyone else in your extended family. They run towards you at top speed each one trying to touch the dead animal. Some of the smaller ones fall but no one cares. The women stand in their doorways and stare in admiration. Khalayi, who was peeling some potatoes, stops and stands up, smiling with her eyes. She wipes her hands on her bottom. She does not make her excitement obvious. She conceals everything behind that smile. You don't mind it. Besides she is a woman. Smiling and laughing is a preserve for women and silly children. You remember one day when your grandfather Kaikai was counselling his grandchildren and one boy kept giggling. The old man barked angrily at him, 

"Stop laughing or join your fellow women in the kitchen" and everyone else was now fighting to hold back their laughter. Laughter, like everything else, is always sweeter when you're not allowed to do it. Khalayi walks towards you with calculated steps and offers a hand. You acknowledge her with a nod of appreciation but decline her offer. The animal is way too heavy for her.  

She helps you to put the load down. You sigh. She takes your bow and quiver and disappears into the hut. She emerges promptly with a three-legged stool on which you sit. She quickly runs you a bath. It's cold and the water is cold but old men discourage young men with new wives from bathing using warm water. Nobody knows why. One young man once said that if you keep washing yourself with warm water you will wake up one day and find that you have turned into a woman. Everybody laughed at his stupid reasoning but when he whispered that he heard it from his grandfather people took him seriously. 

Your buttocks will become flat

You feel refreshed after the bath. Your meal is ready. Busuma, chisaka and smoked chicken, peppered with finely ground, hot, red chilies. You eat outside your hut facing the gate lest people call you selfish. Anyone is welcome to join you. Khalayi is busy in the hut as usual. She never sits down, this woman. An old man once suggested that you should always send your woman up and down running errands or else she will spend the whole day running her mouth with lazy women in the village. Small girls were encourage to always be on their feet carrying out chores because "if you sit all the all the time your buttocks will become flat and people will think that you are a man". This one is different. She has no time for small talk. She has many friends but whenever women her age are talking about their husbands and other men she is always busy either in the farm or looking after her animals. And how do you know? It's because the other women lamented to their husbands and one of them told you. 

Toxic farts
 A drunk uncle joins you and helps himself to your food. He talks too much. Khalayi greets him from afar. She is not allowed to shake his hand. It's a taboo. She then begins nursing your injured toe as you eat. You wince but when she looks up your grimace gives way to a brave, manly face. When she leaves, your uncle reminds you, in between loud painful hiccups, of a saying by your neighbours from the lake, "He who has a wife, is a chief."  

He asks you if you know Wanyonyi.

"I know several ..."

"The one one who married an elephant,"

"I do,"

"He's the unluckiest man on earth. His wife treats him like a doormat,"

"That's sad,"

"She can eat a whole goat alone in one sitting," His voice is so loud that you would think he is speaking to people in the next compound. 

"That can't be true,"

"And her toxic farts can linger in the air for a week," he says and bursts into a thunderous laughter that rips through the quiet evening air that the kids stop playing and stare at him "Wanyonyi has to fix his bed everyday because every morning it is broken."

"Please stop uncle, people will call us women"

"This is not gossip. This is wisdom."

You are relieved when leaves after what seems like an eternity but not before Khalayi gives him more food and some traditional beer to take home. She pours you some beer in your drinking horn, which you sip gladly.  
That evening your home is a beehive of activities. Many neighbours visit in order to get a glimpse of your marvelous kill and get a share. Among them is Wanyonyi and his wife. The wife arrives ahead of him. He walks in later, his shoulders drooping and with a grumpy face like one who had been dragged here. Knowing his wife, and unfortunately you do, she's capable of doing that, quite literally.
She walks straight to where the women are without greeting anyone. She rips off a large chunk of the roasted meat and digs her teeth into the flesh. With her mouth full and still chewing, she turns and bows to greet you. Wanyonyi stands transfixed to the ground like a tree, his face pale with embarrassment.  
Soon Mr. Drunk Uncle is back. He seems even more inebriated. He takes a step forward and two backwards. He almost falls down but he miraculously regains his balance. He smiles broadly, obviously proud of his achievement. He walks straight to where you are standing with Wanyonyi.
"Oh!" he exclaims, "My son here is the conqueror of Impalas, but you my young friend conquered an elephant."
Wanyonyi lets out a forced laugh. 
There is nothing harder than holding a conversation with a drunkard when you're sober. 
"Mandari told me that in bed you need help from two neighbours to lift her leg up, is it true?"
"No, Mandari is a joker. Everyone knows that"
"I know, it would take at least five men to lift that leg," he laughs at his own joke, " You should not accept to be treated like a woman."
"I will not"
"Do you wash yourself with hot water?"
"No, I don't"
"It seems you do," he says sternly, "You have turned into a woman."
Luckily, Wanyonyi's wife has had enough. She packs a hefty chunk of meat for her children, bids everyone goodbye and painfully struggles to walk away. Wanyonyi follows her promptly like a shadow. 
"Your little kill has created so much buzz," your uncle says noticing a frenzy of activities with young men and women streaming in and out.
"Not quite," you reply, "They are readying themselves for the midnight dance"
It's the best time of the year for the zealous youths. Youths from several villages always converge in one village for the midnight dance. The dance is usually fuelled by adrenaline and  the zest of youth. A bull will shed blood. Beer will flow freely like River Nzoia. Waists will rotate and bottoms will vibrate. Drums will be hit so hard that they will burst. Young women with skins as black as coal and bodies shaped like wasps will dance, and sing and scream all night long. Men will let out yells. Dust will rise, and when it settles everyone will go back home and normalcy will return. The hunters will hunt. The farmers will dig. The women will cook. The little girls will fetch water from the streams and talk about the dance, which they only managed to witness through the cracks of their bedroom mud walls, as they are too young to attend. Old men will drink beer reminiscing about the good old days. 

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You can't help but have a vivid flashback yourself back when you were younger and unmarried. When you sneaked out of your simba to attend your first dance with your older brothers. It was a night to forget ... 

To be continued ...
  
Thanks for Reading.

Khalayi PT 3-The Midnight Dance loading ... 

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