Memories of an African Childhood: African Beliefs and Superstitions

There is a large dam that borders our farm and next to the forest. This dam was revered for it was said to have mystical powers. We were cautioned not to go near since it was rumored to be infested by crocodiles. Popular believe had it that the dam once swallowed some white man’s cows. My grandma told me it is true and she claims it to be so to date.

We often went to watch ducks swim. There was a brown little duck that used to dive and come out. We would tell it to dive, and it dived. We used to shout ‘’miss diver, please dive!’’ I am not sure whether it was heeding our call or it was just diving for fish. On hindsight, the latter case is more probable.

There came a day when the government allocated some money for clearing lilies and other floating plants from that dam. The local leaders decided to employ us young boys to do the job. We were such good swimmers having learned to swim in secret. Excited at the prospect of having to make some little money at the same time enjoy a swim at the sacred dam, we gathered on the bank at the appointed day. That dam was deep with clear menacing waters. It was infested with black ugly leeches and shiny snakes but for money and fun, who would balk?

Stripping naked and bare, the hundred or so boys jumped into the cold water and grappled with the task. Cutting lilies and swimming as you haul them to the bank was what the job entailed. The party was gay except for occasional screams here when bitten by a leech or a startled cry there when one spotted a snake.

At noon, we decided to have some fun swimming before breaking for lunch. It never was. One notorious boy called Mbich dived and never resurfaced. I saw him do so for I was swimming close to him. I dived trying to retrieve him but in vain. We decided not to scream for help as we searched for him. He was never to be found. We alerted our elderly supervisors and they came to our help but Mbich was nowhere.

The commotion we made attracted some women who were fetching water nearby. They broke into wails upon receiving the news. Soon, the whole village was gathered in the dam. The best swimmers in the village were working tirelessly to retrieve Mbich but in vain. I was guiding the swimmers to where Mbich had dived. Darkness fell, no Mbich. His mother was distraught with grief. The search team broke to resume the following day. Elders from Mbich’s clan made a fire by the dam to keep vigil. In our culture, you don’t leave a dead person unaccompanied.

The second and third day, Mbich was not found and neither did he resurface. The whole village was sad. The turn of events however did not surprise many. Mbich was an incorrigible chicken and goats’ thief. You could hear villagers whispering about Mbich having been cursed for his thieving habits. In fact, he used to hide the proceeds from his crime by the dam where he now lay dead and hidden. That was according to one of his friends Bu. The elders were fully aware why he had drowned and would not resurface.

On the fourth day, the elders performed a ritual. One elder called Natit, picked Sodom’s apple, threw it in the water where Mbich had dived and told Mbich ‘come, let’s go home!’He then ordered everybody to assemble at some shade nearby. We sat talking. After a while he went back to check on Mbich. He came for Mbich’s relatives and announced that Mbich was found. More wails and cries from women.

On examining him, his palms were devoured by fish almost bare of meat. His eyes and mouth were intact. When somebody dies in water, fish and frogs normally eat his/her lips, tongue and eyes but for his case, it was only his hands. Elders explained that it was to show that he was dying for his itchy fingers. You see, in our village, there are no thieves. No padlocks as a result. If one becomes a thief, he just dies of his sins sooner or later.

Mbich was buried that same day by the dam. If someone drowns in a water body, he or she is buried by the bank of that particular river, dam or lake. It is claimed that water bodies have a lot of evil spirits and once they claim someone, they should be left to have him or else one member of that family will drown in water again soon. How true this is, I don’t know, for nobody has ever contravened this tradition.

It was by this dam again that young girls used to hunt some flying insects that looked like wasps and make them bite their young tits. It was believed that a bite from this wasps make tits grow big. How true this is, only girls can attest to it. Could be true as there is hardly any idle belief in that part of the world! So if your tits are too small for your comfort, forget boobs augmentation. I know some flies in my village that could do a better job of it for free.

Not that boys were left out in beliefs. Every boy in that village hunted for swallows. Because they were swift, we believed that if we lacerate the skin by the knees and apply its blood, it would make us swift and fast like them. If you have seen swallows, you know how swift they are in the skies and how hard it is to kill them. But we made sure we killed one for this sole purpose. I never became fast though I did all this, with marks on my knees to show for it.

As if that could not hurt enough, we believed that if you make tattoos on your wrist and thighs, a hyena will never attack you. The tattooing procedure was one of the most painful of them all. We would get a ball of soot, place it on the wrist or thigh, collect some burning coals, set it on the soot till it burn a round wound on your wrist or thigh. One could make several tattoos that looked and shined like coins once they healed. Apart from keeping hyenas at bay, the tattoos served as hallmarks of courage.

Another belief was again to shock me when Taxi our donkey died. A donkey is such a respected animal in our culture, almost like humans. If you kill a donkey, you never live to see the next day. I tell you. One of my classmates called Tiromba once hurt a donkey with a machete; he is nuts to this date. A donkey is such a special animal. No wonder it never gives birth during the day like other animals. It is also said a donkey collapses and dies if a load of tobacco is placed on its back! Holy animal- donkey.

So, when Taxi died, we dug a hole near the bush and threw it in with a coin by its side. All donkeys in that village are buried with coins. Maybe to compensate it for all the thankless labor it had given man in its lifetime! Even Christians silently observe this.

Talking of respect for animals, it is a taboo to kill any animal that has sought refuge in your house. The penalties for contravening this law are dire. If an antelope or hare or any other animal is being chased and enters your house, then that is that. Its life is spared and won’t be killed again.

One day we were chasing baboons from of our maize farm. All the village boys had decided to round up all the baboons and kill them or drive them away from the village. I think we were more than two hundred boys. With bows, arrows, slings, machetes and any weapon imaginable we carried out a massacre of baboons. We attacked them from all sides without any ceasefire. Some ran to the hills, others got killed.

We cornered one hapless baboon near our neighbor’s house. Having no options, it entered his house and hid there. We left since we knew one cannot kill it no more. The owner of that house instead of observing the rule hacked the baboon to dead. The village was startled and advised him to appease the baboons with a certain rule but he declined. His wife was pregnant then, wait till she gave birth, she gave birth to a baboon like creature. It is true. The baby baboon survived for a whole week till it died of hunger. The killer of the baboon became mad to date!

Another sacred bird is a crown bird. They used to be so many in our place but nobody ever killed them for whatever reason. Not after what happened to some girl. There is a swamp that originates from our farm and drains to the distant Borabu plains. One girl collected a young crown bird from that swamp and took it home. The crown birds searched for the young one the whole day. They sung a sorrowful song I had never heard them sing before. So many crown birds gathered in the swamp, more than we have ever seen before. The cruel girl went ahead and killed the little crown bird.

Wait till night fall. Crown birds numbering more than 500 stormed the girl’s home and cleared the thatch of their roof. The girl’s parents tried scaring them away but without success. They cleared the house of thatch and flew away. No crown bird has ever been spotted in our village again after that incident. Not even one. The girl slept that day and passed on in her sleep. The village was in shock.

If you think that improbable then you should hear this. In our village, there are few wizards. There is one whom we used to run away when we saw her passing by. The hag was so ugly you could just know she was a witch. She was very much feared all over our village.

Come one December festivities, his son fought with another man called Omwai while on a drinking spree. The witch was around. Omwai just collapsed sweating and asking for water. When he was taken to Kaplong Mission Hospital, taking water all the time, he was operated. Do you know what was removed from his intestines? A toad. A live toad that jumped when it was placed on the table! It is true. Omwai is hale and hearty to date.

The witch’s daughter, who was my classmate, once bewitched our classmate. You see, they were playing games but the witch’s girl was defeated. The witch’s daughter stared the girl and the she collapsed and lay motionless. The other girls screamed. When the whole school gathered around them, the witch’s elder sister told the younger witch to remove whatever she had put on the girl. She touched the now motionless girl and she came to. I saw this happen with my own eyes!

I feared witches from that day. They also fear lightning too. Heard that when it rains, witches never get close to the hearth or else they are struck by lightning. It once happened not far from home. A witch and her daughter were sharing witchcraft when it rained suddenly. The lightning struck the witch’s daughter dead and burnt their house. One interesting thing, the young kids who were inside the house were thrown out to the garden by the same lightning, unhurt! I saw that woman lying dead! The villagers were not surprised at all. Lightning is a form of instant justice in that part of the world.

Talking of rain, when it rains too much or there is a storm or hailstones, do you know what we do in the village? You throw a coin on the rain and it subsides. Our dad used to tell us to do it every time there was hail and our goats were in the field. Just a single coin and the rain behaves! There is also a certain clan that speaks the same language with rain, it’s called Kibaek. Every time they have a function or one of their children is getting circumcised, it must rain. And it does. Even swimming in the river with one of that clan’s son it would rain.

There was a friend of ours from that clan who was our playmate. He was called Josi. If Josi swam with us, it would rain, so we used to refuse him to swim or else our fun will be cut short by rains.

In times of drought, a severe drought that not a single green thing could be seen, the last resort was a ritual called Sosimo. Sosimo is performed by women by a river bank or dam. I have never witnessed it for it is a purely women affair. I hear they strip naked and sing. There is a catch though. It is strictly restricted to women of high integrity and fidelity. If you have been unfaithful to your husband, then woe unto you, for you will die if you partake of Sosimo. So the women folk gather in the river but only those who are faithful to their husbands strip before the gods. The other women thus know who is faithful and who is not after this ceremony. But they keep the secrets to themselves.

Another one. In the event that your goats are lost in the forest and it is dark, you just leave them and go home for the night. If you want no harm to befall them, say thieves or wild animals, your dad simply place his arrows, bows, quiver and machete outside overnight. In the morning, you will find your goats safe. We did this several times and it worked. For real!

What if a goat denies her young to suckle and kicks it away? There are people who reunite them. If you are a single child, you can attend both women and men circumcision ceremonies. You are then called Cheptorus .If you are a Cheptarus, you are sought to reunite goat s and their kids. You simply sing ‘uro uro wee uro uro…’ and tell the goat to love her young one. The next minute, the goat will be seen suckling its young!

The traditions, myths and superstitions are just too many over there. Some I have seen them work, some are just that, myths. When we used to hunt, if you get some hare’s droppings, you put them in your pocket and you will find that hare and kill it!

Tip: if you are hunting for a job, husband or promotion, cut that particular ad and put it in your pocket and who knows, it may work. A hunt is a hunt!