THE THRILLS OF NAKITOMA
Four years ago, a young man opened the door and bust into the office. Dressed in black trousers, white shirt, a matching tie and an infectious smile. He was very smart. He walked to a chair and sat down, savoring his new surrounding and the attention from new people. This is Tom Okirya our new sales executive, Carol, the sales manager introduced him to us.
The immediate task was to find a sobriquet for him. This is important as the passage into acceptance in TEA. Our Baptist, the old man was away at the time. When he returned we had observed enough of Tom to for the Kamulian to mention without hesitation. Pastor.
Tom becomes a pastor owing to his firm observance of Christian lifestyle. Later Pastor Deya. Pardon me old man, Pastor Deya is quite distasteful. But the rule is, a sobriquet gets to your nerve. The bad taste is the background to joining the club, becoming part of the family.
We also learnt of Tom Elvis Ochola Okirya, a mouthful of a name. But, thanks, Pastor will do fine. Okay. Tom is okay too.
Time moves pretty fast when you consider the routine of the office. Targets, plans, presentations orders, commissions. Or the luck of them. But time has moved so fast that we begin to notice a certain shift in the Pastor’s routine. You have to see the computer screen saver to understand the current blowing away the good fellow.
The screen saver captures her in a temperate climate. Snowy, heavy clothings, but… yes..,.. and the infectious smile. Have you noticed how a smile lightens even a tense situation. It is good for the heart I am told. Exactly, we now noticed Tom is warmly, his heart warmed by that smiling face.
Clearly something is happening to Tom, and it has to do with the matter of the heart. As the new year broke this year, Tom lets the cat out of the bag. Maybe, not exactly, but through slips here and there. Anyway the point was being made that the good Pastor had been smitten by love bug and that he was in trouble as the young beauty had captured him completely and now she was resolute in delivering him to her parents for the final benediction.
It was inevitable. Tom had to say it. On a Monday afternoon, he called me aside and sought my presence to witness the Okwandhula as the Baruli say, his marriage in a traditional ceremony in Nakitoma to Suzan Mwebaze, the damsel who now holds the pulse to his heart.
The short message came. It was D-day. It said we were to assemble at Bugoloobi Church of Uganda to depart for Nakasongola. However, I could not make it to Bugoolobi on account of another travel arrangement at the office. So Saturday 18th went down folklore in Nakasongola as the day the bachelor from Eastern Uganda braved the rigours of travel, risked the dangers in the wildlife and the audacity of love to pick their very own daughter. The inimitable Suzan.
The men in Kanzus, the women in Busuti and Gomasi. A beautiful spectacle. We boarded our cars and commenced at the head of a humongous convoy, sidestepping the morning traffic jam in Wandegeya, Kalerwe and Bwaise. Finally, we emerge at a petrol station in Kawempe and savour the Kampala – Gulu road.
Telephone. Caller, please assemble at Migyera trading centre for breakfast and to change into the party clothes. We’ll, I am dressed. We made it to Migyera one and half hour later!!! Shock!! shocks !!! Food is ready. At UGX 5,000 for fish and matooke, the food here is priced beyond the means of the locals. More, so than what Kampala offers. This is amazing as R. Kafu is two stones throw away and Lake Kyoga beckons in 30 kilometers. The hoteliers here set their eyes on the long distance travelers and tourists. The locals must tread deeper downtown to afford some food. But the kobe meat is cheaper, this being in the cattle corridor. Anyway, the katoogo was off the menu as the early Kampala traffic had depleted the stock. So I settle for chapati (well done), omelet and milk tea, for UGX 3,000.
Shock number two. As Tom’s entourage trickle in, a car at a time, over ten of them. So do the ladies, rushing to change into the requisite traditional clothes, the busuuti, gomezi and the men, into the Kanzu. On these occasions, the notion of time is lost to our women. It is enough that putting on the gomezi is frustrating to the men, but the mannerisms of the good ladies change accordingly. They must now walk at snail pace, one hand holding the innocuous gomezi, handbag hanging on the other arm. The catwalk starts. The idea of time is lost completely.
After an agonizing three hours of unwinding, undressing, dressing and snail walk. We now board our SUVs, sedans, pick ups, vans and zoom ten kilometers away. We arrive at Nakitoma village. We have arrived to witness Tom wrestle Suzan away from the boys of this village, and take her to nirvana, to everlasting happiness.
We park the cars and converge under a mango tree. In Lugbara we call him ojio, otherwise omwogezi, the only man allowed to intercede for Tom. He takes us through the sensibilities. The women must kneel when our hosts greet us. The men must stand, etcetera. Villagers emerge to behold the mass of immaculately dressed people. Where are they from? Ahha!!! They are from Kampala. They cower. They watch from a distance, some whispering, gestulating, giggling etc.,
Now is the hour of reckoning. We troop, single file, in two lines, one male and the other female. We make way to a gate. Christian music is playing, three tents have been arranged. Two tents filled to the seams. If you know what I mean. They have come to see the man Suzan is going to marry. They are welcoming their in-laws. They are glad that this Saturday will be very colourful and generous.
So, we stand in the line in a scorching Saturday Sun and wait. But no one comes to welcome us. There is a clan meeting going on and no visitors are allowed. Meanwhile, the excitement is palpable. Beautiful ladies in dazzling gomezi dart to and fro. The men can not help it. They drool knowingly, the Old man is besides himself, the general agrees that this village is something. There is this particular lady, she catches my eye. She has personality, character. She walks with an aura of a queen. She is beautiful.
Over thirty minutes of waiting in the sun. You got the feeling it must rain sometime in the future to cool this hot day. It then happens. We see a bevy of beauties, emerge with baskets. They gracefully make their way to the lines. Then they inoculate, they actually said - vaccinate us so we can not infect the hosts. After a while, she steps up to me. She is smiling. She picks a paper, safety pin and ….. !!! She fixes the picture of Tom and Suzan on the breast pocket of my coat. Ditto to the end of the line.
We are now safe. We are ushered in to our tent. We stand for a short while and then sit. The drama has long started. We have afande, corporal etc, who guide us through the occasion. The introductions, senga is difficult to get. She must pretend not to know us until she is appeased. Okay, not that way. They will bring forth many sengas, until the one – owensonga comes to acknowledge Tom.
The interlude of music - local music, traditional music plays in between activities. But I can not help it. The Baruli must be true Ugandas. Their lexicon is an imbroglio of words from Buganda, Bunyoro, Luo Busoga, Lamoghi. Theirs is a hybrid language. The dance is runyege. And the food includes Kalo (cal) millet bread common in the north, and eastern parts of Uganda. They have luwombo. I now understand the militancy of the Buruli against Buganda. They do not quite belong in Buganda. They are a different, unique people.
When the senga finally acknowledged Tom, a stream of ululation filled the village. We ululated to thank her for not denying Tom. We now waited with bated breath to see her. Before Suzan could come, her sisters preceded her. In a way, it is a display of beauties for the bachelors to espy. This family is demonstrating to us the availability of more damsels. But today we want Suzan.
The clouds crack, and rain descends on us. We are safe in the tents, but the poor girls getting on with the show are drenched thoroughly. They bear their cross majestically. Sitting meekly as the rain swept their make up and ruined their hair. The rain abates and the show continues.
Susan finally comes. Her choice of gold and red is fantastic. She has adorned her face. She looks like a pharaonic queen. She is beautiful. Tom is truly a lucky man. God agreed. He opened the sky again and drenched Suzan. It is a baptism. An initiation into a new life. A life with Tom for good, and for ever.
