Read Online No Hurry in Africa by Brendan Clerkin - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Brendan Clerkin
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There are no lamp-posts to keep the day alive. People tend to rise at dawn and go to sleep once the sun drops, their lives determined by the rhythms of the sun and the moon.
Many of our nights in Nyumbani were spent sitting on rocks around a campfire, just having the craic. There was nothing else to do; we were so remote. Leo, Kimanze, Kiragu, the others in the house, and I would spend hours under the star-filled sky simply chatting, occasionally singing, and indulging in some light-hearted banter in the warm air. The campfire was simply to keep any wildlife at a distance. The night after I returned from Nairobi, I bumped straight into Kimanze by accident outside in the dark. He was standing in a basin—in the middle of washing himself. I was forever bumping into black people at night, walking straight into them because there were no lights about. Quite literally, I could not see them in the dark unless they were smiling! It was a serious problem in a place where there is so little artificial light after the sun sets.
On Halloween night, at my suggestion, we had a bonfire that probably could have been seen half way to Sudan, possibly the only Halloween bonfire in Africa. It was massive, from all the vegetation that had been cleared for the farm and buildings. The wood was so dry it burned out fairly quickly, though. They do things differently in Bavaria, so I briefed Leo on the reasons behind the pagan Halloween bonfire. The irony was not lost to him. Here was I, who spent so much of my time visiting the Christian missionaries, creating a pagan fire supposedly to ward off the evil spirits let loose on that night, deep in the dark heart of Africa.
The watchmen duly arrived with their bows and arrows after the fire burned out. They thought our house had burnt down; we had forgotten to tell them about the bonfire. For all the use they would have been if the house really did burn down! Were they about to dowse the flames with their bows and arrows?
One of the joys of night-time at Nyumbani was watching the cosmic constellations, especially when there was no moon. With no light pollution, the stars actually twinkle, as in the nursery rhyme, and the Milky Way actually looks milky. Venus and Mars are clearly visible and the endless cascade of shooting stars is spectacular. The equator is perhaps the best place in the world to view the constellations, with billions of stars competing for space in the sky. Awe-struck, I used to stand on the highest point in the area, and for miles and miles around, I could see no artificial light from any car or home or streetlight, and hear no sound except the occasional shrill cries of birds. At times, it was the most complete silence imaginable.
Sometimes I would fall asleep up there. (Nyumbani later built a huge concrete water tank on the high spot that had been my observatory, and I would climb up on top of the tank and lie down.) On other occasions, I listened to the sounds of nearby drumming for hours and hours after dark. The rhythmic pounding was an accompaniment to the elders exorcising evil spirits from possessed people in their huts, in an Akamba ceremony that Mwangangi informed me was known as ‘ Kalumi. ’
C HAPTER 5
S URVIVING THE F AMINE
T HERE WAS A FAMINE IN K ITUI district when I arrived in September. The situation was becoming more and more desperate, so that by early November it was even beginning to attract the attention of Western media. Officially—and somewhat euphemistically— termed a ‘food shortage,’ many people were going maybe three or four days between meals, and that probably consisted of cornflour. The problem, that many in the West do not realise, is that there is no such thing as social welfare in Kenya. It is left to the missionaries or aid agencies to provide help in times of crisis.
At the height of the famine during November and December, I was always amazed that people, who had no food to feed themselves or their children, would always make sure
Many of our nights in Nyumbani were spent sitting on rocks around a campfire, just having the craic. There was nothing else to do; we were so remote. Leo, Kimanze, Kiragu, the others in the house, and I would spend hours under the star-filled sky simply chatting, occasionally singing, and indulging in some light-hearted banter in the warm air. The campfire was simply to keep any wildlife at a distance. The night after I returned from Nairobi, I bumped straight into Kimanze by accident outside in the dark. He was standing in a basin—in the middle of washing himself. I was forever bumping into black people at night, walking straight into them because there were no lights about. Quite literally, I could not see them in the dark unless they were smiling! It was a serious problem in a place where there is so little artificial light after the sun sets.
On Halloween night, at my suggestion, we had a bonfire that probably could have been seen half way to Sudan, possibly the only Halloween bonfire in Africa. It was massive, from all the vegetation that had been cleared for the farm and buildings. The wood was so dry it burned out fairly quickly, though. They do things differently in Bavaria, so I briefed Leo on the reasons behind the pagan Halloween bonfire. The irony was not lost to him. Here was I, who spent so much of my time visiting the Christian missionaries, creating a pagan fire supposedly to ward off the evil spirits let loose on that night, deep in the dark heart of Africa.
The watchmen duly arrived with their bows and arrows after the fire burned out. They thought our house had burnt down; we had forgotten to tell them about the bonfire. For all the use they would have been if the house really did burn down! Were they about to dowse the flames with their bows and arrows?
One of the joys of night-time at Nyumbani was watching the cosmic constellations, especially when there was no moon. With no light pollution, the stars actually twinkle, as in the nursery rhyme, and the Milky Way actually looks milky. Venus and Mars are clearly visible and the endless cascade of shooting stars is spectacular. The equator is perhaps the best place in the world to view the constellations, with billions of stars competing for space in the sky. Awe-struck, I used to stand on the highest point in the area, and for miles and miles around, I could see no artificial light from any car or home or streetlight, and hear no sound except the occasional shrill cries of birds. At times, it was the most complete silence imaginable.
Sometimes I would fall asleep up there. (Nyumbani later built a huge concrete water tank on the high spot that had been my observatory, and I would climb up on top of the tank and lie down.) On other occasions, I listened to the sounds of nearby drumming for hours and hours after dark. The rhythmic pounding was an accompaniment to the elders exorcising evil spirits from possessed people in their huts, in an Akamba ceremony that Mwangangi informed me was known as ‘ Kalumi. ’
C HAPTER 5
S URVIVING THE F AMINE
T HERE WAS A FAMINE IN K ITUI district when I arrived in September. The situation was becoming more and more desperate, so that by early November it was even beginning to attract the attention of Western media. Officially—and somewhat euphemistically— termed a ‘food shortage,’ many people were going maybe three or four days between meals, and that probably consisted of cornflour. The problem, that many in the West do not realise, is that there is no such thing as social welfare in Kenya. It is left to the missionaries or aid agencies to provide help in times of crisis.
At the height of the famine during November and December, I was always amazed that people, who had no food to feed themselves or their children, would always make sure
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