What is khurunga kumurwe? The story of a young love cut short and a man determined to honor the love of his life one last time.
Long time ago when I was growing up in the village, when everybody knew each other and what each was up to, I happened to meet a new lady at the well. I had been born and bred in the village and this was the first time I was meeting her. Mulembe, I said, wishing Wele Khakaba’s peace upon her.
She answered “mulembe muno” back. With such a short answer, I couldn’t place her tongue and therefore guess her oluyia. Was she Rakori? Masaba? Or even Museve? I kept guessing, where she could have come from. Besides, what could she have been up to?
Torika Omumasaba
Since it was not Christmas and thus there were fewer people visiting relatives, I guessed one fine son of a woman from my village may have gifted himself with her. I later learnt that she was newly married to Situma one of our neighbors’ sons .
Situma came from a humble background. His parents were peasant farmers. He was educated by the village. He literary went to school at the mercy of the villagers. The village had done enough fund raising to raise money for his fees and upkeep. Situma had held his end of the bargain by registering good grades. He was away in the teacher training college.
Her name was Dorcas. But since my people have a light tongue, we fumble with name Dorcas. Thus we simply called her Torika. Torika was a beautiful young woman. Torika was blessed with a bush of black, thick natural hair. She had fair skin with white eyes and a bewitching gap between her teeth. Even with the water jerrican atop her head, Torika had an elegant gait. Her beauty glowed. A beauty that’s only found among the Masaba.
Expectant
Torika was expectant. She needed help to put a twenty liter jerrycan on her head. As I helped her to hoist her water, I couldn’t help but notice that she looked like she came from a well to do family. Her clothes and shoes were all brand new. Word had it that Torika was also training to be a teacher.
Torika was with us during the April holidays and disappeared when schools re opened. The village went about normal activities.
One morning in the chilly morning of July, there were screams and wails coming from Situma’s home. Since nobody had been unwell, the village was at pain to guess what the matter could have conspired. At first, we thought man and wife had decided to air their dirty linen in public.
When we reached the homestead, I saw Situma seated on the verandah of his mother’s house. He was leaning forward with his head between his hands. His tears flowed freely. It was undeniable that he was in pain.
Situma’s mother and aunties on the other hand were pacing around the compound wailing. His mother had her hands on her head, her jersey tied around her waist. She had just come from the farm as you could see her feet had mud on them.
A Death So Painful It Has No Name
Listening to her speak between her wails revealed the reason for her screams. Torika was no more. We had lost our Masaba mulamwa to that type of death so terrible, it had no name. Torika had given birth to a bouncing baby boy two days ago. She then developed complications and had died that morning. According to Bukusu naming customs, the boy was to be known as Walekhwa, meaning the one left behind.
Walekhwa’s grandmother was mourning the loss of her would be daughter in law. Particularly she mourned the the fact that Situma’s family had never met Torika’s parents. She knew very well the tough times that lay ahead of her. She knew her family was in for a long haul.
Khurunga Kumurwe: The Conditions, The Purpose
Situma’s family got together and sent a delegation to Torika’s parents. The delegation carried three requests: To be allowed to bury Torika; to be allowed to raise Walekhwa and to seek a common ground on how they would pay a penalty for their son’s misgivings.
In this case, Situma was penalized for eloping with Torika. He was also penalized for getting Torika pregnant before families met according to Bukusu marriage customs. Now since Torika’s family have lost her in the process, they are also to be compensated for this.
The payment Situma’s family pays to Torika’s family in such circumstances is referred to as khurunga kumurwe. Translated, it means paying for the head. It is the dowry paid for a woman has died before the husband paid dowry!
Beyond such a circumstance as that of Situma and Torika, khurunga kumurwe would also happen in cases of involuntary manslaughter as compensation to the bereaved. It is also is paid when somebody died under unclear circumstances.
