Growing up in the village, one often assumes that living in the center of the action so to say, they by default know their ways. But that’s until the never-before happens. In may case, it happened with the River Chwele accident. A tragedy that ushered the saddest days of our childhoods. Whose aftermath lifted the veil to the world of eshiriri (ekilili, esiniini) and kushoma eshiriri in my underdeveloped worldview.
One day, I will write a story about ‘when Nzoia Sugar was Nzoia Sugar’. In that story, I will talk about how this once colossal company was everything to a people. Nzoia, as it was simply known as, was a mother, a father, our today, yesterday, hopes and future. Today, however, I remember a sad day in Nzoia Sugar’s history that has stuck with me.
Every child has to be initiated into life by days when life intrudes their childhood and leaves a gaping hole in the tent of their innocence. Through out adolescence and adulthood, this forced opening to the world only gets larger; letting in more of the world as the veil of innocence with each of these encounters is reduced into shreds and finally vanishes.
WHEN NZOIA WAS NZOIA: THE GOOD TIMES
When Nzoia was Nzoia, its cane farmers out-growers scheme required droves of unskilled labor to harvest cane. Harvesting cane is a labor intensive job that requires “well feed men”. In the case of Nzoia, these energetic men were sourced from the communities contracted as out-growers, my community. Thus the company lorry would came around every morning to pick the cane cutters. At the end of a tiring day, shoulders burning from all the hacking and having escaped snake bites, the men, our men, would be brought back.
These men – our brothers, sons, fathers – were on temporary contracts with the company. Aside from a daily wage, the contract included transportation to and from work. This meant that Nzoia sugar company lorries would be seen every morning speeding out of the villages, loaded to the brim with testosterone.
I talk not of the specific years, but this was during those times when a well loaded lorry with cane cutters resembling matchsticks in a matchbox was all good. This is to say, life then was simple. I am talking of the days when matatus carried as much passengers as they liked.
It was in those days when World Bank and Chinese loans for infrastructure development weren’t yet a thing. Days when the likes of Collins Mukhongo traversing village paths with bulldozers in tow, turning village paths into arteries of life and trade, were unimaginable. Needless to say, roads in Bungoma were worse than pathetic.
PORK, BUSAA AND HIPS
Nonetheless, life was good because money was flowing. And because money was flowing, Busaa would be ripe any other day. The Men had something in their pocket, HIV was but still a whisper while endwasi could be treated locally by concoctions from indigenous trees. As a result, both the men and women lived in true form to the Bukusu saying: Kumwikule kukwoo, kumwikale kwabene.
Therefore, as the lorries sped by, the men breathing in air drenched in testosterone dissed little girls and women along the way. It was not uncommon to see women flee at the sight of an approaching lorry for fear of the not so friendly jokes thrown their way. However, they would run away during the day, but run back once the sun set. To the spots where pork cooked in its own fat, the sounds of litungu rent the air and hips gyrated fueled on by the latest batch of freshly brewed Busaa.
BLOOD ON RIVER CHWELE
My recollection of events has it that a 7.5 tonne lorry would carry somewhere between 200 to 300 adult men! On one such day, as the brewers of Busaa readied for their customers expected later in the evening, a lorry carrying cane cutters was involved in a tragic road traffic accident. The accident occurred along the Sikata-Bokoli-Kimilili highway.
A lorry full of cane cutters overturned and plunged into River Chwele. River Chwele is a tributary of River Nzoia that crosses the road between Khachonge and Lurende markets. It was a tragedy. Nobody in the lorry survived.
THE RIVER CHWELE ACCIDENT AND KAMARORO KE BAMAKOMBE
Our men died in their hundreds. Villages all around moaned. The few who were not directly affected didn’t know who to cry with as every oluyia had a body, sometimes bodies, to bury. We were devastated. I lost fathers, sons, cousins, friends and neighbors.
Many homes were left without household heads. Barasa, our neighbor, father to my friend Nabalayo was among them. As the villages mourned, reports started emerging that the dead were visiting their loved ones in kamaroro ke bamakombe. Scores from every mourning family reported that the men who died in the River Chwele accident kept screaming and crying in these dreams. The elders interpreted these dreams as the dead expressing their wish for their souls to be taken home.
CLEANSING RITE
The Luhya believe that when a person dies from road traffic accident, his/her spirit remains on the road until a special rite was conducted. Moreover, following the River Chwele tragedy, a profound fear stalked the locals. Nobody wanted to cross the River Chwele bridge alone, be it during the day and at night. Something had to be done.
As expected, the usual Luhya death rituals were performed for the dead. In addition, a special ritual was also perfumed by relatives of loved ones who had perished in the River Chwele accident. For the departed, it was done in order to bring the souls of the departed home. For the mourning, it lead to closure.
Before I delve into the specifics of the ritual, a clarification first. When I speak of the soul, it should not be taken in the understanding of western conceptualizations of a person. The actual Luhya word that refers to what I talk of is echiriri (Lulogooli). In the understanding of the people of Mulembe, it is a spirit alright, but it’s not a soul. To be precise, without it, the deceased’s personhood is incomplete.
WHAT IS ECHIRIRI?
Ekilili (echiriri), the ‘shadow’,is a concept widely found among eastern Bantu people. It is both the visible shadow, and a spiritual quality and essence essential to human life. In the latter aspect, it has an existence independent of the body, since it can travel abroad at night.
At death it separates from the body. Whether, together with omwoyo, it was then transformed to ekigingi, the spirit of the deceased, is not clear.
The ekilili, however, remains to be dealt with after death in a ceremony known as ‘bringing or escorting the shadow’ home (kushoma echiriri, Lulogooli), which remains popular today.
Spirit, Desire and the World: Roho Churches In Western Kenya In The Era Of Globalization
KUSHOMA ECHIRIRI
The Luhya rite that I will gloss over below, aims at reuniting the shadow with the body and soul. There are two versions of kushoma echiriri (Lulogooli). There is a special, abridged version that is performed whenever a person dies in extraneous circumstances such as the River Chwele accident; or even as was the case following the death of Vice President Micheal Wamalwa Kijana. The Vice President’s death can be considered extraneous as he died in a London, a foreign land.
That said, the version of kushoma echiriri that was done for Wamalwa in order to reunite his shadow with the body, was abridged and contemporary rather than special as with the case of Barasa below. Contemporary versions of kushoma echiriri include Christian rites such as prayer and song. In this case, these Christian acts are explained away through the story of death and resurrection of Christ. They are taken to be akin to the act intended to be performed by the three sisters on Jesus body, only to find him awaken.
WHY IS KUSHOMA ECHIRIRI PERFOMED?
The kushoma echiriri rite is performed after burial. A famous example is found in this story on Vice President Wamalwa. Kushoma echiriri is the last act of a proper Luhya sendoff. Beyond this abridged version, there is what we would call the extended version of the rite. In the text: Spirit, Desire and the World: Roho Churches In Western Kenya In The Era Of Globalization, the author aptly describes the extended version of the rite as follows:
In the third funeral rite, of ‘escorting the shadow home’, close relatives visit the places where the deceased worked and lived, and the homes of his or her children, usually carrying a photograph of the deceased. The rite concludes with short prayers in church.
The purpose of this rite seems to be that of allowing the shadow a last opportunity of saying farewell to familiar scenes of his or her earthly life, and thereby discouraging him or her from returning to disturb the relatives.
As part of this event, it is natural therefore for family and church members to repent of sadness, quarrels, abusive words and feelings, and anger, which might encourage the shadow or soul to think there is some unfinished business left behind on earth. However, increasingly this ceremony is becoming a simple remembrance of the deceased’s life in its historical context.
BRINGING BARASA’S SHADOW HOME FOLLOWING THE RIVER CHWELE ACCIDENT
In Barasa’s case, his immediate family members comprising of his wife, his brother, sister and Nanjala spent a night by the roadside where he had met his death. While there, they slaughtered a fowl and sprinkled its blood at the spot. It was believed that sprinkling of blood from the fowl was meant to unite Barasa’s spirit with those who had gone before him. They then roasted meat from the fowl, ate it and returned home in the wee hours of the morning.
Nanjala’s mum picked some rocks and sand from the spot that she carried back home. This was symbolically the deceased’s shadow. The sand was to be placed on the grave on their return home. With this, it was believed that the Barasa’s shadow had been brought back home.
