FLASHBACK: This rainy season reminds me a couple of years ago when my cousins and I were staying with our grandmother in Tagitech, Ololmasani. Back then, my grandfather to my mother’s side, botich, Araap Kurgat was a great philosopher; we liked him very much solely because of the evening narrations ‘atindoniik’ he inundated us with. However we hated him for one thing; the amount of work he gave us. He woke us up as early as 3am, yoked the oxen and headed for the shamba to plough under the moonlight. It was very cold and we had no shoes under our feet. At times one stumbled on some big moulds and hurt his feet with cold multiplying the pain. Surprisingly, one had to be watchful for the little snakes or stumps that could open up your toes the way you open a soda bottle. At such a time of the night, the oxen were not to be driven by calling their names as we did during the day; botich declared this to avoid waking up neighbours who he had direct completion with. Botich liked shocking neighbours who would wake up in the morning to find our fields tilled and ready for planting. He however did not like my antics in driving the oxen. I would sleep walk and leave the oxen behind and had to be brought back to my senses with a bullwhip ‘ipchoritit’. There was an ox with sharp horns called Kipkulel, I guess he got the name because of how he used the horns. He liked giving us unexpected butts on the ribs or our bare buttocks. Kipkulel yoke-partner was Nyanguso, botich said he bought him in Nyanguso market. The two at the back were Kuro and Leso, very friendly oxen that guided the plougher to the furrow. But gone are the days of using oxen. The shambas have shrunk and people till their lands manually. Do have a good night ladies and gentlemen.
Posted on: Sun, 16 Nov 2014 18:40:44 +0000
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