Reminiscent

A recent visit to my mother had me reminisce about some tales she used to tell us when we were growing up. There was this goat that used to get pregnant on the knee. I don’t know if the slogan, ‘nīauna mbūri yeene iru’ he has broken someone’s goat’s knee, a phrase that was used when referring to a son of Jeroboam impregnating a daughter of Jezebel, came from this story. You know back in the days if you broke a girls knee you either married her by fire by force or you paid the father a handsome amount in terms of goats. Try jumping and the council of elders would be sent to your house to coerce you into accepting the results of exploring ‘the river between.’ Not so nowadays a son of Jeroboam will jump pregnancy only to appear when said kid becomes famous.
So back to the goat whose knee had given birth to triplets. The goat would leave her kids to go browsing so that when she came back her teats were loaded with milk and the kids would have a day suckling in the abundance of the not so scarce milk. Remember our Kenyan milk shortage. Those kids were dynasties when it came to milk.
So their mother being aware of the dangers lurking around would admonish the kids not to open the door for strangers. She was as musical as all goats can be. You know those creatures can get to your nerves when they decide to bleat. So mama goat would arrange her kids like a full orchestra with her doubling as the bass and the orchestra conductor. They’d start like doh…, do, re, mi, fa, so…….
‘karu gakwa kanandongia, kanangerekia, kanjiariire, twana twiri, twana tūtatū, kamwe ngītua, Nyamathirīti, Nyamatua thonjo, Njiru yakwaa hingurira.’ My knee has made me rich and prosperous. She has borne me two kids, three kids, one I named, Nyamathirīti, the other Nyamatua thonjo, my Njiru open for me.
Any time mama Billy sang this song the kids would open and no sooner had they opened than they’d scramble and fight to suckle.
Now the ogre was not far away from their homestead and would be salivating at the thought of capturing the triplets. He’d have one for breakfast, one for lunch and the last one for diner. So he started practicing the song and came and started singing outside the goat’s compound. What he didn’t know is that the kids knew mama’s voice and were not lured into opening for the ogre. He went away sulking after realising that they wouldn’t open for him.
You know what our Good Lord also said, ‘my sheep know my voice and I know them and they follow me.’
So right now as we continue to drown further and further into this bottomless pit of politics can we discern the voice of truth? Just a question. For now lemmi massage my knee. Nasikia kama nimevunjwo 🤣🤣

StillTheChronicler.

Published by Nyar Kaheti

Born and raised on the picturesque slopes of Mt Kenya, Nyar Kaheti is your girl next door vibe kind of girl. She enjoys reading, writing, hiking, and listening to country music among other things.

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