Humour: The Villager: “Igiti kigororwa kikiri gito”

I have been prompted to write this article not because I am a villager, but because I get raw deals now and again, from those who call themselves “Banyamujyi”(town people), there is nothing to be ashamed of, being a villager. You can take a villager to town but you will never take the village out of him; those who emerge from the village and think they have become something else are just deceiving themselves. It is like climbing an ant hill and you think that, you are no longer on the ground eh! I do not stereotype people and so, others should not stereotype me and my kin and kith, if we were born villagers, so it was and that is it! Some of you may be wondering why I am ranting so early in the column, it is because a so good for nothing guy has been harassing me by consistently telling off my children that, sijui, their father is a villager! The poor children are now getting ashamed of me, sooner than latter, they might deny me being their father, and you know how that hurts? As they say, “whatever touches the child, pains the parent”. I am not ready to let some one “poison” my child with such funny and stupid ideas, remember, such worthless ideas plunged this land into the worst human catastrophe ever experienced on this beautiful continent of ours. I want to put the record right when I still have time, yes, “igiti kigororwa kikiri gito” (the tree can easily be straightened out when it is still young), I will straighten my children when they are still young, lest I will “cry”, if they grow up crooked! This reminds me of many incidents where individuals forgot their background and ended up denying themselves, like a he goat that forgets that it is a goat, instead, it thinks that it is a bull! There is a guy we used to study with, at one point in time, after high school we all parted company and went our own ways, some graduated there and then, and others went on in pursuit of greater glory. Out of the latter category, there is a one Sunday (Sande), we jokingly called him “Day”, this guy went ahead and got an “unmarried degree” (bachelors), to him, that was not enough, when he got married, he went ahead for the “married degree” (masters). It was the congregation, when the university chancellor declared that, “by virtual of powers entrusted in me, I confer upon thee, blah, blah, blah degree”, all people had invited their friend, relatives and in-laws (lawyer brothers, lawyer sisters, lawyer uncles etc). Sande having been a villager 311 (pure), he decided not to invite his parents, reason, they were too villagish and they could not auger well with the educated society. Most of Sande’s peers hailed from highly educated families. Some of the grandaunts had parents with doctorates, making their bachelors or even masters degrees to look like nothing at all; but not for Sande, his parents had never seen not even a single “black board”, so, what would they discuss with other parents? He lamented! In the ways of the town, you can buy people to mourn for you (that is if you have lost some one), you can buy a lawyer to plead for you (that is if you have stepped on the wrong side of the law), you can buy love (that is if you have no chain keeper) and so on and so forth. For Sande, all he had to do was buy a seemingly “educated” parent. He did not have to go far since there was no time; he went to Wandegeya’s Katanga slum (adjacent to Makerere University) where he bought a smart old timer to preside over the function as his father. All went very well as planned until the reception party. The party was held at Kampala’s Grand Imperial Hotel. After people had eaten and filled their stomachs, the MC (master of ceremonies), rose up, cleared his throat, “ladies and gentlemen, we are gathered here to witness and celebrate the success of our brother, Mr. Sande” (the room was filled with screams and ululations, “may I call upon his father, Mzee eh (the name was lost), the Mzee shot up very fast to save the situation and began by introducing himself to the guests amidst cheers and more ululations. Things started going wrong when the “father” could not recall his son’s names and began calling him “this boy” instead of the actual name. By the time the speech ended, there was no doubt in everybody’s mind that, the purported father was not the actual father. E-mail: Mfashumwana@fastmail.fm