The sun is a lazy orange in the western horizon of Gele Gele hills. Swallows are swirling in the sky, and kites are enjoying themselves balancing their wings in the windy sky. It’s a sign that it will rain. It always does whenever there are circumcision ceremonies in our village. All in all, it is a beautiful evening.
The moos of cows fill the air. It is only 5.30 PM yet they have been shut up in the barn. They are protesting the new development. Unlike cows, dogs are happy. Some unfortunate cows have had a date with the slaughter knife. Every home with an initiate is today an abattoir; dogs have had their fill of blood and meat. That is why they are barking excitedly. Our dog John Boss is lazy today but a friendly jolt on its ribs with my kick is enough to tell him that it is time to go.
Stepping on the road, Kisii women, our neighboring tribe, are hurrying home. Oh! I have just remembered, it was a market day in Ndanai today! Each is carrying stuff, balanced on their heads. They are talking incessantly as usual. They are not attending our ceremonies for they don’t belong with us. Alas! I pity them.
I am with my brothers Alois and Leonard, and a neighbor Tilang Kendu. We cross the road and head to Arap Rob. Here, our older playmate James is an initiate. Past the tall trees, standing on the hill, people milling around talking in excited voices, is their home. We are half-walking and half-running. Soon, we are there.
Kipsang, his younger brother and a buddy of ours is there to receive us. We look for James and we find him seated behind their house having his hair shaved. This time round, he is quiet and uncommunicative, he evades my gaze. He is dressed in the usual blue shorts- white shirt - blue sweater Rotik Primary School uniform; our school.
People are all over. Some are visitors looking dapper in brand new clothes; others are nearby relations of James. There are too many people. Visitors and hosts are talking and hugging and laughing in small groups. It is such a happy reunion. Some are drinking tea in cups, some are eating roasted beef, men are holding tins, sipping beer. Gaiety is the byword.
(This is the night of the dance (betutab tien). Remember it is a Friday. A day for visitors to arrive and this is the day that the initiate is sung and danced for. Girls have theirs on Saturday. This night is just foreplay, the biggest party is reserved for the following day when the initiate has been circumcised and has displayed courage. ‘Beer of the circumcision’ ‘maiywekab banda’) is served on this day.)
With Kipsang, we assist James in tying up the lanky pliant plants (korosek) into fours with sinendet strings; a process called ‘keta korosek’ . Sinendet are tendrils that grow wild in the forest. They signify vigor, life, health and virility, for it is always lush green and its sap is milky, like real milk.( Milk is sacred in our culture) With guidance from Kimolel, James’s elder brother we tied up so many. ( The initiate holds one bunch throughout the night, to be returned by his mom and placed on the roof after the initiate has been circumcised. Close family members carry the rest throughout the night. They are long and are used for celebrating when an initiate triumphs the circumcision ordeal. People lash each other with them in a fit of wild celebrations. After celebration, they are thrown to the roof, as a sign that the initiate was brave and passed the circumcision test.)
Done with that, we are brought for tea by Rebecca, James mom. She recognizes us for we are close neighbors besides being a close friend of my mom. (My mom could be assisting in the kitchen as she sipped her beer. She does not bother much with us today, as long as we managed to shut all the cows in the barn. It was a day of freedom!)
A thick smoke is pillowing out of the makeshift kitchen. The cooks are rivaling it with smoke from their own cigarettes as they make tea and heat water for diluting beer.
The track chebet makora( Chebet the sly girl), the hit of the year, makes us leave our tea and dash into the house for a dance. Men, women and children all dance in various styles. The better dancers gyrate their hips, the wacky dancers make faces and twist their hands, the worst just jump not knowing how else to respond to the bewitching music.
When you stand on the yard, facing the door of the house, to your right has been made a shrine: some bushy tree branches of chorwet, emitiot and tebeswet, firmly fixed on the ground and tied together with sinendet, to look like a leafy little bush. It is called mabwaita. A revered place in our culture. All cultural ceremonies are conducted around it. We place some of the korosek we were tying here, leaning on one side of mabwaita.
A fire is lit near mabwaita to make it complete. Fire enjoys a revered place in our culture too. It signifies life and potency. This fire will burn here for the rest of the night, when the singing is over, some embers is returned back to the house.
Omwai and Philiph Kap Sixtin are lighting the pressure lamps. It is falling dark. We sit by to play with the refractions of our faces on the shiny tank of the pressure lamp. We pop our eyes, push our tongues out and marvel at the caricatures made. Soon the pressure lamps are working. One is taken inside the house while another remains with us.
It is approaching 7 PM. Arap Rob, otherwise known as “Haraka, up!”( his signature phrase meaning- fast up!) a respected rich old man who is also a motiriot, ( a person who initiates) come out and say ‘’haraka, up!’’.Everybody is at attention. He summons his elder son Mista and tell him to get James ready for the ceremony.
James is wrapped in a blanket and is holding a bunch of korosek, like a bridegroom. He is summoned to stand by mabwaita next to the fire. Everybody in the house is summoned; it is time the singing begins. I too move closer to the action.
Men, old men, women and children form a circle round mabwaita, with James standing in the middle. Still and quiet. Mr. Sirma, tipsy with his eyes popping out, holding a big tin of beer, gave out a yell and calls out the circumcision song.
(Nb: James will be referred to as Cheruiyot in the song, his maiden name; the song is meant to embolden the initiate to face circumcision with courage. He doesn’t know what circumcision entails, boys were told one’s penis is burnt with a burning rod but none knew it for sure. It remained a secret till when you have passed through. Circumcision is a test of one’s endurance and valor. Those who cry during circumcision become outcasts and are subsequently excommunicated. They neither can marry nor associate with fellow men. Most committed suicide. They are referred to as Kipitee(-cry baby- if it is a boy, and Chebitee- if it is a girl. They bring shame, ridicule and disgrace to his/her parents and the whole clan. In the past, fathers used to kill their sons who cried. Parents are always anxious when their kids are undergoing circumcision)
Meanwhile, the singing has picked tempo:
Soloist: Oelego lolegoo eei; Oelego lolegoo lolegoo ( oleggo lolegoo is just a refrain with no particular meaning)
Chorus: elegoo lolegoo!
Soloist: oelego tun iwe, oelego ok tun iwe o Cheruiyot (May you triumph, may you triumph Cheruiyot)
Chorus: elego lolegoo
(Women hum uuum uuum along the soloist as they shake their heads, rap their behinds while others rap their thighs in rhythmical formula as they move round mabwaita stumping their feet in anticlockwise slow motion while facing the initiate. The men occasionally yell, while others clap their hands. James ( Cheruiyot) stands still, doesn’t sing nor move, he clutches his korosek to his chest)
Soloist: ak tun iwe we laktatich oo, ak tun iwe o ng’etai (may you triumph you who has left his herd, may you triumph you uncircumcised boy)
Chorus: elego lolegoo!
(Another soloist joins in, this time James mom)
Soloist: ak tun iwe werinyun, ak tun iwe nebo man (may you triumph my dear son, may you really triumph)
(James mom is overwhelmed by emotion and sobs, she continues)
Chorus: elego lolegoo!
Soloist: ak tun iwe werinyun, ak tun iwe ba kogas komet en Londiani ne monyo( may you triumph my son, triumph that your step-mom who is far away in Londiani hears it)
Chorus: elego lolegoo!
Soloist: ak iibu resiondet eee, Ak iibu resiondet konyo kaa (bring honor to this home, please bring honor to this home)
(James mom is now totally overcome by emotion makes to hit James with a cooking stick she was holding –she was from the kitchen cooking. She is restrained by other women and held down. Singing stops. She bits her lower lip, points at James and tells him amidst sobs not to shame her for his father will think it is her family that has the genes of cowards. She collapses at this instant and is taken away. Women could be heard telling her to be quiet and that James will triumph. Singing resumes. James sister is the new soloist.)
Soloist: Eelego lolegoo eeh, oe lego lolego lolego ne kitupche ( ne kitupche is ‘my sibling)
Chorus: Eelego lolegoo!
Soloist: ak ikoite bortang’ung ee, ak ikoite bortang’ung kesilun (give out your body to be scratched)
Chorus: elego lolegoo!
Soloist: ak ikoite kesilun ee, ko nekong’et ko neng’ung ak inye (give out your body to be scratched, whatever remains is yours)
Chorus: elegoo lolegoo!
Soloist: negong’et ko neng’ung eeh, si amen bendo mi butegut (what remains is yours, so you may eat some hairy meat with it-read sex with mature girls spotting pubic hairs)
Chorus: elego lolegoo!
Soloist: ametiar boiyondet eeh, ametiar boiyondet kwam teget (don’t kick the old man-read circumciser- and hurt his chest)
Chorus: elego lolego!
Soloist: amelenji kutkutwet eeh, omelenji kutkutwet tektatan( don’t tell a shrub hide me)
Chorus: elego lolegoo!
Soloist: omelenji tektatan eh, le kotait koinyon lole mat (don’t tell a shrub hide me, till I reach our home where some fire is glowing)
(Different soloists may join in, even boys, girls, anybody. The initiate just stands still. Women may taunt him to say something but men had earlier instructed him not to. This is the last day he will ever see a woman at a close range for the next one month and the last he will speak to one for the next two or three months)
Soloist: ameigu kiluch met eee, ameigu kiluch met en tatwa! (Don’t be the one to be hit on the head to be calm at tatwa -the circumcision field)
Chorus: elego lolegoo!
Soloist: ameigu rocharoch ee, ameigu rocha roch en tatwa (don’t be a disgrace at the circumcision field)
Chorus: elego lolegoo!
Soloist: angot igose memuche ee, angot komemuche iwe Kisumu (if you are feeling not equal to the task, then go to Kisumu- Kisumu is the town of the Luo tribe who don’t practice circumcision)
Chorus: elego lolegoo!
Soloist: ole iwe Kisumu oo, iwe olimbo kap chematui( I say you go to Kisumu, the land of Mr and Mrs black- Luos are predominantly dark in color)
Chorus: elegoo lolegoo!
Soloist: ak iwe itun chematui, iwe itun chematui ak itebi (and go marry a black Luo girl, and stay there)
Chorus: elegoo lolegoo!
Soloist: amekender babang’ung ee, amekender babang’ung kipsise( don’t disgrace your father, don’t disgrace your quiet father)
Chorus: elego lolegoo!
Soloist: le kokerin I lebel o, le kokerin I lebel kou nusut (I have observed and you look flat, like a one shilling coin- meaning stupid)
Chorus: elego lolegoo!
Soloist: ameigu rop keter ee, ameigu rop keter cheringis (don’t be a person who moves round the house like a lizard-read an abashed coward who hides from people)
The singing goes on and on, then come an exclusive time for men and old men to get a piece of skin, surround it, each holding it with his left hand, the initiate too holds it with his left hand as he clutches korosiot in his right hand. They then hit the skin with clubs in a slow rhythm of ‘traap’ ‘traap’… as they move round the mabwaita stumping their left feet as they sing a song called chepkeitilet. They beat the piece of skin to smithereens, yelling and singing. Drunk but un-forgetting their roles.)
The song goes thus:
Soloist: kichome echek tumi nyon is eee, tumi nyon manai lim ( we love our culture, our culture that is unknown to Luos)
Chorus: ahaiya ahaiya !
Soloist: Kilenji nee ng’etai is eee, kilenjini tun iwe( what do we tell this young boy, we tell him may you pass)
Chorus: ahaiya ahaiya!
Soloist: mobo chamet inguni we ng’etai is eee, bo chamet kariron!( the action is not now, the action is tomorrow at dawn!)
Chorus: ahaiya ahaiya!
Soloist: kibo bikab mourmo is eee, urmindet en mestet (we belong to the people of ‘not a calf bleating’ but a trapped eland bleating- this describes our clan who are former hunters and gatherers as compared to cattle keepers)
Chorus: ahaiya ahaiya!
Soloist: kichome echek long’enyon is ee lule, long’enyon makitil( we love our shield, our shield that is never cut)
Chorus: ahaiya ahaiya!
Soloist: meen achoun Rotik gaa is ee weri, lal boriet subui( I sing for our Rotik, Rotik where war breaks out at dawn- Our village was prone to inter-ethnic conflicts which flared at dawn)
Chorus: ahaiya ahaiya!
Soloist: kisole echek Nandiekyok is eee, Nandiekyok teben koi (I praise our Nandis, our Nandis who sit upon stones- Nandi is an ethnic community related to ours who are soothsayers and are said to sit only upon stones)
Chorus: ahaiya ahaiyaa!
The singing goes on and on. It is around 9 PM now. James is brought a seat. I and his younger brother are brought seats close to him. Music is fever pitch inside the house. There is a hit called “kitot kobaran” ‘’it almost killed me’ by Tumbalal arap Sang. People are driven wild by it. The stumping of feet is almost drowning the music.
Ugali is brought on a flat piece of leather called ‘kibereita’ alongside fresh milk with wosek( black coal) in a beaded calabash. Mista break a small stick from mabwaita and cut ugali with it and shared it amongst us.
Milk is poured to the three of us and we eat together as a sign of farewell to James. I eat a little, excitement taking a toll on my appetite. James eats a little, trepidation of what is ahead taking the better part of his appetite. Soon we are done.
The next thing, his father, mother, uncles and brothers are summoned. It is time to bless him. A ceremony called kailet- direct translation is ‘to oil’. A cream is brought in a cow-horn called lalet. His father scoops a little cream in both hands and applies on his cheeks, shoulders, and legs. He tells James to be courageous as he does so. He smears the remaining on his own head. His mom steps forward and does the same. His uncle follows then his brothers and lastly his sisters. He sits down to rest after that.
Soon some new singers will come to sing to him. James stands up holding his korosiot to his bosom like a treasured possession.
Our role done; it is time we explore other homes where there are other initiates. It is also time to scout around for girls. A fling was easy to come by during this season than any other. Excitement make girls loosen up a bit. In any case, if you had seduced a girl in January, they gave you a date for December. Like tax collectors, we went round asking girls to make good their promise. The best formula was to waylay them like foxes as they went about their chores in the dark. Cherotich, my cousin, played an effective go-between and hooked me up with a visitor. A privilege that would be talked about for the next half year. The rest is too graphic for this book!
With a bunch of unruly boys and a few girls, we lit our cigarettes and flashed our torches on to the path that passes through the hill; through Arap Suge, and Arap Cheruiyot to Kap Kirei. Here our other friend Kipkurui is the initiate, we found him standing by mabwaita, women singing to him. We joined them in elego lolegoo.
His younger brother Tumbalal sneaked us to a store where beer was kept. On tip toes to crawling, we slither into the store through a missing plank on the belly of the raised store. It was not easy for a fat boy like me but I could not afford to miss out. Glad to have made it, I sat to regain my breath as my two friends sat devising means of drinking the beer. You know, the beer was in large pots with narrow brims. There was no cup or tins around. Luckily, there was some beer placed in a large pan. The potent alcohol in the brew was making the beer surface bubble, burst and froth. We simply went down on our knees around the pan and took large swigs, like animals do in the dam. Wow! It tasted good. I felt a burning sensation in my stomach and a warming sensation in my head. My forehead felt numb! The pan is halfway now, time to leave it alone.
We went inside the house and danced mad. What with alcohol mixing with our young blood! We yelled and danced like deranged kids. In the din that was the party in that house, nobody could tell what was normal or abnormal that day. Dust just rose from the earthen floor. The ‘DJ’ who sat in a corner by his gramophone watched us nodding his head, sometimes wiping his records and taking occasional requests. At intervals, he sipped his beer in a big cup, a kettle that served as his beer reservoir sat securely beneath his armchair. A ‘DJ’ enjoyed such an important place in those kinds of parties. I danced watching my shadow dance on the wall too. Am I drunk or am I?
Thirty minutes or so later, we decided we have had enough of that house. I was sweating profusely, the beer in my veins making me hot. It is called the right party mode!
We took the footpath along the hill, this time careful to light the path with my torch; I am missing some steps on the way. Hiccups! What a tipsy boy! The next journey will take us to one other friend’s home, Julius, an initiate too.
If you glanced to your right as you walked along the hill, the lights in the not so distant hills of Kiptenden was a sign enough that parties too were spread across the homes in the hill. I could make out Kap Chelel, Kap Jacob and Kap Nyasaiga…I could see grotesque shadows moving in the lighted clearings. I hankered to go there too but it was too long a shot for one night. I just wished that life was one long party, one home a day starting with ours and on and on. We would be pilgrims of Bacchus, travelling to strange unknown lands, but welcomed nonetheless with music, beer, sumptuous food and scrumptious girls. No schools, no work, no herding…I recovered from this reverie to find myself in Kap Sixtin, Julius’s home.
Here, the music was dead. Everybody, at least the adults, were in and seated. It was time for pep talks- ‘cheret’-to the initiate. We were late for the music but not for the drama. Cheret is a drama piece you won’t ever see anything close to it. It is poetic as it is philosophical, punctuated with theater of flailing arms, flaring fits of anger, steaming sweat, bubbling tears and even swooning.
Julius was seated in a corner, with korosiot held to his chest. The cream that had been applied on his face and shoulders were the only things that were shining. The erstwhile cheeky and exuberant Julius was now quiet, observant and earnest.
His father was talking. “In our family, we don’t give birth to cowards. We are men of character and valor. If you want to be the first, if you will weep and bring disgrace to this family, then you better tell us here and now. We are not people of many words, we leave that to women. Julius, look at me and look at me good. I was circumcised at 3 AM in Romocha, with my mom here seeing. Ask her if I even batted an eyelid. I passed like a man. I am your dad and I would rather die than see any of my children disgrace me. I have said enough. I am giving you a cow so that when you come out a man, you sell it for your education. If you weep and come out a coward, you sell it for your fare to Kisumu, the land of uncircumcised boys.”
One speaker after the other, speeches were almost similar. Men and women would cry. Some old man broke his walking stick in a fit of anger. Another decided to leave for his home, more than 20 kilometers away, rather than wait to go the following day in humiliation. Julius’s maternal grandmother was choked by words trying to tell him not to embarrass his quiet mother for fingers would be pointed at her direction as the source of the genes of cowardice. Julius’s uncle tore off his shirt to reveal a sweating hairy chest. He swore before Julius that he would drown the following day if he cried. Julius’s auntie grabbed Julius and almost bit him before she was restrained. Julius grandpa bit his own palm as he stressed a point and bled, he had to be given first aid.
Whoever talked to Julius gave him money, through his mother, so that if he came out successfully, he uses it for education. If not, then for his fare out of the land of Kipsigis to Kisumu.
Indeed, weeping during circumcision was such a disgrace. A boy who once cried hanged himself to spare himself the humiliation and scorn, to himself and his parents. The stigma associated with it stuck for the rest of your life. In fact you would not even get a suitor for marriage, unless a fellow chebite. Not even a moron of a mad woman would agree to marry you.
When they were satisfied they have talked enough to Julius, a record was played, for his mom, dad and siblings to dance their goodbyes to him for the next one month. It was fun seeing his parents compete in a dance. Everybody laughed. With that, it was time to accompany Julius to where he was to be cooked for as he stayed in menjo -makeshift house in the bush- for a month. (A family volunteered to feed the initiates for the entire period of initiation to be paid a cow by the parents of each of the initiates)
We therefore set off across the hill to a village called Takitech, two Kilometers of bush and rugged terrain away. Two pressure lamps let the way. Men surrounded Julius like bodyguards, yelling at the top of their voices. (The amount of shouting and screaming accompanying circumcision ceremonies are such high decibels, by the time it is over, people can hardly talk. ) Women brought up the rear with hurricane lamps. Men jumped like wild dogs, drunk, some just excited. The pace was punishing, I had to run to keep up.
When we got there, other initiates who were to be Julius colleagues in that menjo were already there. We were received with yells and jumping, we yelled back. A competition of which party could shout the loudest ensued. Ours was louder for we even had dogs that joined us.
I think it would be 1 AM if I had a watch. I don’t but schools are closed so who care about time?
The ceremony that awaited us was simple, the initiates to be blessed by way of oiling with milk cream in a lalet like it was done in their real homes. They were then given milk to drink in one calabash, passed from one initiate to the next. A brief session of olego lolegoo followed. After that, we set off again to where all the initiates of the village were to be lined up. The home will be of one of the initiates whose father was the oldest. That fell in Kap Kirei ; Kipkurui’s home where we had earlier drank beer.
We went back through the path in the hill to Kap Kirei for robet, meaning simply lining up the initiates in order of whose father was the oldest being placed in front, and the second oldest at the rear. The rest just lined in the middle with no particular order. The one in front is called kiboretiet, (one who shows the way)and the one that brought up the rear is called koumgo (one guarding the rear ).
At robet, the initiator, (motiriot) and ‘the blesser of ceremonies’ ( kibisio) received the initiates, order them and led everybody in singing olego lolegoo. The father of the home and the mother will bless all the initiates at the shrine (mabwaa) .motiriot and kibisio and their apprentices are blessed alongside the initiates. Unlike the initiates, the two are resplendent in beaded cow skins and beaded head gears.
There are around a thousand spectators, and dozens of pressure lamps. The din is unimaginable; music is loud inside the house. I am looking for James, I spot him standing in the middle of the initiates, quiet and still holding his korosiot to his chest. All of them do.
The initiator calls for attention. All are quiet. “ Haraka, Up! Now, all the initiates have become mine from this minute. The mothers of the initiates, we meet at 4 AM in the various menjo (s) of the initiates to witness circumcision. That’s that.” The initiates are ordered to go round the shrine four times led by kiboretiet and then file out to the path to a place we young boys and women were not to know, simply referred to as kotab tumin- house of the ceremony. That was where they were to undergo their first rituals. That was the last I was to see of James and co. for the next one month. And the last I was ever to relate with them as close friends till after my own circumcision. Boys hardly mix with men in our culture.
We started the journey back to James’s home. More music and tea for us; more music and beer for the rest. It is around 2 AM.
With the first shouts of kang’uu kamet - ‘mother is smelling’, circumcised women leave to the various menjo to witness their sons and brothers being circumcised. I am not qualified, so I wait. It is now 4 am. We are yet to sleep. I doze off in a chair, what of two days without a wink!
I am woken up by ululations of aririririiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii! kongoi James! (Thank you James!) That meant James had passed his circumcision with courage. Everybody is elated. The music from the gramophone is drowned. Everybody is shouting aririririiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii, kongoi james. His mother and sisters bust into the house ululating, jumping and beating everybody on sight with her korosiot . Those who had dozed off in the seats and even the bedroom were beaten and told to ululate. The korosiot (s) in the shrine were collected and free-for-all lashings broke out. People chased each other, women and men, ululating, splashing beer and beating each other up. Aririiiiiiiii ariririririririiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii kongoi james rung everywhere in the compound. It was a sight to behold!
We kids jumped and did our aririririiiiiiiiiiiii in soprano. I was genuinely happy for my pal James .
Neighbors who had earlier gone home to sleep were woken up. All of a sudden, people were running from all directions to James home with shouts of ariririiiiiiiiiiiiii! to be greeted with more shouts of aririririiiiiiiiii!! from the ones who were already in the home. Every new arrival collected each a korosiot from mabwaita and more fierce lashings ensued. All you heard was Ariririiiiiiiiiiiiii! Kongoi James, kongoi lakwetab karap Rob, kongoi ne koti kot konyol, kongoi nyiganet, kongi weritab Kap mochoek…( Thank you James, thank you son of Arap Rob, thank you for you have displayed courage, thank you brave man, son of Mocho clan…)
The ululations extended to praise for James’s mom, his dad, our village and anything that could relate to James’s triumph.
Men rush to the barn and brought with them a big bull for slaughter. The party would have officially started. Beer, called maiywekab simet- beer of ululations- was served in and out of the house in copious quantities. (If James would have cried, no party would have taken place. No cow would have been slaughtered. Visitors would have gone back to their homes, heads bowed in sorrow and humiliation. The shrine (mabwaita) would have been uprooted and thrown far away. Beer would have been poured to the grass.)
Tea is served but only a few people are in the mood for tea, the appetite key is on beer mode. Sporadic ululations here and there. Drunkards stagger and mutter incomprehensible things to everybody and nobody in particular.
Kids are brought for beer called musarek,( with little alcoholic content). It is sweet but you would have to take several gallons before you could get tipsy.
Inside the house, a hole was being dug in the middle of the house by the father of the house. A large pot full of beer was placed in the hole. Long straws were distributed to the old men in the house to sip beer with. No woman sips beer with a straw though. In case one would want to, she would kneel down and borrow an old man and sip a little from his straw. So do us kids.
At the brim of the pot is tied the sacred sinendet plants around it- symbolizes health and wellbeing. At the bottom of the pot where it makes contact with the floor, is placed round a dug-out earth with lush green grass- shows health and wellbeing. A woman kneels when adding more beer on the pot as a sign of respect to the beer and the men partaking of it.
The order of sitting in the house is never haphazard. To start with, only invited guests get to sit in the house. On the right side of the doorstep, seated on a leather armchair, will be the most important guest of the ceremony. A close friend of the family or a relation, a man of respect, sometimes a circumcision mate (botum) of the father of the home. No woman ever assumes the role though. The second chair is reserved for the owner of the home. Other guests’ seats would follow. Once you are assigned a seat, it belongs to you till the end of the celebration.
To your left, the last seat would be occupied by a close family relative, an old man.
Beer flows in copious quantities. Dancing continues. Soon roast meat will be served then music will be stopped for a while, for the visitors to introduce themselves.
At ten AM, old men will sing a song in praise of mothers, motherhood and the initiate.(the song is accompanied by clapping):
Kichome lakwet, ak kechome kamenyin eee, kisime kora ak kesime koraa wee amun kokobaa( we love the child as well as the mother, we are ululating because our children have done us proud)
Sometimes the song could get vulgar thus:
Kichome lakwet ak kechobe kamenyin eee, ikaigai lakwet ak inyorchon kitok wee kecheng age! (We love the baby and we fuck the mother, soothe the baby to sleep and meet me in bed we make another one)
I dozed off in a shade outside before the old men could finish their song for I knew only too well that a big night awaited me again: girl initiates dance night! An attraction of no less glamour and drama, I can’t wait!
See you in the evening!
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