DIARIES OF THE VILLAGE HERDER

I was born in luhyaland but as fate had it, my old man was charmed by a smile from a lady of immense blackness and as they all do, put a ring on it (I’ve never seen the ring on though). That’s how I came to find myself in this land. Being one of the dirty, little village boys, the responsibility of being obedient and taking care of the villagers cows as they dropped by for a banter session was bestowed on my lean shoulders and those of my honourable age-groupers. There is an old radio that I have been accorded the honour of walking around with, making me a hero among my playmates. I while away my lonely time listening to its static and yelp in joy when a song or sound pokes out from within the bushes of ‘ssshhhhhh.’ At times, the network happens to be good enough but then my batteries don’t favour me much. There is a lady we al have hots for. Her name’s cherotich. I think she likes me more though I ain’t sure why? Is is because I’m cooler than the rest? Yes I am a bit cooler. I can walk around without a shirt and I have more scars than any of my friends. I also don’t cry when my parents beat the crap outta me (I only cry when hidden in the cowshed) so I indeed am cool. I also like wearing a ‘seng’enge ni ng’ombe’ cap my father had from his youthful days which makes me even cooler. School to us is just a dream. Why school when you can stay ignorant and without a care all your life. Ignorance has always been bliss. Our home is pretty hilly and as every youmg boy would dream, it has a river some short distance away. I like the river because it is only there that you can look at your friend’s ‘dudu’ and laugh at how small it is, notwithstanding the fact that yours is next to invisible. It is also from here that we while our afternoons away as the cows lounge in the shed. We had developed a clever trick to ensure that the cows were tired by the time afternoon came so that we would go for a swim.  We would chase them around for ten minutes when the sun stood in the middle of the sky for about ten minutes. We would then gather them around and they never dissapointed. One day they caught us. We suspect grandpa arap Towet. We always called him ‘bhomori’for he was the oldest man in the village. He was a funny man, not funny in the humorous sense, infact his humour was buried before it was born. He was very randy and liked hitting on everyone’s woman. People never asked him anything because they believed he was too old for amorous congresses and was only flirting around. We found him one day talking ‘lungula’, rather trying to entice it from a vulnerable woman who believed he was the only way out of her curse. He saw us alright and knew he had to revenge our laughter. That’s how he told our parents of our wayward ways. We didn’t sleep on our backs for two weeks and even ate on our stomachs. We’ll get  him some day, and soon. That happened only one week ago.