This story illustrates a Maragoli folktale value to epidemiology.
It is months like May that make Christmas sneak up on us. May is a dull, action dry month. It is not planting season like February, Easter season like March or April; not even likembe season that August gifts us. The fifth month of the year, like a middle child, comes and goes unnoticed. Often, May is about going through the motions. But back in the day, May wasn’t always this uneventful. In some Maragoli homes, OK, in the household of Kibisu, the last week of May marked the beginning of the period when the man of the household would go into hiding. Not to be seen until at least two months later.
Value of African Folklore to Epidemiology
In tracing the cause and natural course of disease, the modern practice of Epidemiology values greatly community legend, folklore and even gossip. Take the May 2018 Ebola outbreak in the DRC. Effective control of this outbreak must rely on information gleaned from oral history.
To find the suspected index Ebola cases, and then trace contacts – unavoidable steps preceding the initiation of control measures of quarantine and ring vaccination – the WHO led effort must sift through local legends of the killer disease.
Moreover, even when burying the dead so as to stem spread through contact, WHO and partners have to be culturally sensitive. Infection control and African communitarian ethics (demands utmost respect in handling of the dead) need to walk in hand. Lest WHO and partners isolate and subsequently lose the local community’s invaluable support in fighting the outbreak.
While it is unlikely Kibisu was an epidemiologist, at least not in the modern sense, but his disappearing act every end of May was well within the practices of the modern health science.
Maragoli Folk Tale: Kibisu Makes a Home of The Mwamba
Every end of May, a period that coincided with tussling of maize plant in the fields, Kibisu would gather all his strengths for the days ahead. It usually started with a rare trip to the kitchen. Not to prepare carry-away food for the journey ahead, but to scout his escape path. I imagine he would test his weight on the ladder to see if it holds up. Possibly also Kibisu would have a feel on exact spots where he would grip on as he hoisted himself up to the entrance of the irungu – the mwamba.
Setting the Stage: Anatomy of a Traditional Maragoli Kitchen
The architecture of the Maragoli traditional hut begot a kitchen which had an arctic like space. This was a space exclusive to the woman of the house. Yet, Kibisu’s Maragoli folk tale value to epidemiology cautions that not invariably. Every last week of May and for a couple of months later, the ways of Kibisu and other men of his ilk contrived to deny the woman her heaven.
The kitchen arctic, irungu, was woman heaven. A dark, cramped, smoke filled space – as it was often somewhat above the three stone cooking area: ilishiga. This semi-circular enclave, open on one end, with a floor made from the hardy branches of Uluwovu tree and bound above by the grass thatch, carried all the home’s goodness. It’s a space that epitomized the role of women as caregivers in Maragoli culture.
The irungu was where firewood for future use was set to slowly dry out. For example, firewood would be collected during pregnancy in preparation for the convalescence of puperium. It was also here that bananas, avocados and mangoes wrapped in banana leaves and held in hand woven reed baskets, vihinda, ripened.
In addition, seeds for seveve and other traditional Luhya vegetables, grain foods and delicacies like muduya were often stored in guards in a corner somewhere. Beyond this, we know not of the secrets of the irungu.
Grandma’s Tough Love
Only the woman of the home knew what was up there and where. I remember grandma, too stiff for the climb, sending me up to collect a reward of ripe banana after grazing her herd by the river. The instructions were short, clear and not to be misinterpreted:
“Head two steps north then take a turn to your left and bring down what you will find in the kihinda nearest to you.”
Dare you head right instead of left or dilly dally, the treasure hunt would come to an abrupt end. You’d come down choking with smoke form the fire below, clothes black from the soot. But less the bounty. And that would be the end of it. For weeks you would have to endure your siblings — who learning from your predicament followed grandma’s instructions to the letter and spirit — munch away on goodies from the irungu.
Enter now Kibisu who not only wants to clamber up there, but also slumber in there. The reason for Kibisu’s self-imposed ‘brief’ sojourn to the mwamba was ostensibly to run away from death. Kibisu was like any man then and now – perpetually in a state of fear. Always afraid of death. Thus not wanting to die, he hid there until the crop in the farms was ready.
Kibisu’s Last Words
Kibisu’s instructions to the wife as he began this self-imposed quarantine were said to be succinct as grandma’s. Not wanting to starve to death, as that would beat the purpose, he’d instruct his wife to serve him his meals up here. “I’ll be gone till November, sorry, August.” Might have been his goodbye.
A popular saying in luhya land goes something like this: whomever lives to eat the new season’s crop isn’t going to die – at least not that year. Hiding up there, Kibisu must have counted odds in his favor to enjoy the season’s crop and thus live to see another May.
As we saw with Inyundu irondera ikiheregete, a Maragoli saying of significance to the modern science of Medical anthropology, oral traditions among the Luhya were central to how knowledge of epidemiological value was passed on.
What’s This Maragoli Folk Tale Value To Epidemiology?
That, there was a potentially fatal disease with a seasonal pattern that men were particularly susceptible to. Is it asthmatic attacks from the maize pollen? Could it be the flu? Men and the flu. You all know too well of that meme.
Kibisu’s Maragoli folktale value to epidemiology, also helps us identify roots of how gender can be a base for health disparities. In Maragoli culture, the woman was the care-giver in the sick role dynamic.
Taken literally, Kibisu’s version of the quarantine was designed to protect the healthy. This is of course the reverse to modern practice where the afflicted are separated from the healthy populace.
Moreover, Kibisu’s Maragoli folktale value to epidemiology could still inform practice today as it illuminates the concept of quarantine as not being alien to the Maragoli, a Bantu tribe in Western Kenya with close cultural ties in the great lakes region of Africa.
Value can also be derived by refashioning the folk tale to symbolize the importance of health promotive behaviors like vaccination. The self-preserving acts of Kibisu can be used to analogize the need for individuals to take responsibility for their health through behavior change.
