They say you should never beat a dog at a wedding because it went for the same reason you went, ‘to eat.’ What they don’t know is that here in sub Saharan Africa we mostly have mongrels and not dogs. The mongrels often found themselves as boys companions during grazing, cattle dip chronicles and on hunting sprees. The only problem is that despite their hard work their owners never found it necessary to take proper care of the.. That’s why they’d roam around sniffing for leftovers especially at functions and in school compounds after kids partook of their lunch.
You’ve prolly also heard of my archenemy, ‘Becky,’ my uncle’s mongrel.
Once upon a time we had a farmhand from the land of the great North called Lolo. This guy loved his things kienyeji pro max. Like he’d suck milk straight from a cows tits.
He also had love for bush meat and since we had plenty of bushland it wasn’t a wonder to see him and Becky on hunting sprees. Most of their spoil would be roasted and eaten in the bush the only evidence being a twig toothbrush meandering through his milk white teeth. Becky’s belly would be full to the brim and he’d fall fast asleep before he even reached the grevillea robusta shade.
So on this fateful day, Becky and Lolo left for their hunting spree. Lolo removed his spear made from a tree branch from where he used to hide it at the rear end of the bush. They walked briskly listening for strange noises made by various bush animals. This time out of the blues, lady luck came smiling at them. They were mostly used to squirrels or hares but this time an antelope criss crossed their area of jurisdiction and they started chasing after her. Becky was ahead and Lolo was following close trying to hold his spear well so as to release it at the precise moment and cut through the antelope’s ventricles. He lifted the spear at the exact moment that Becky jumped on the antelope’s neck. So instead of the spear piercing the antelope it sliced right through Becky’s heart and his last bark was an unrestrained howl as he collapsed on the ground while the antelope fled.
Lolo then dug a hole and buried dear Becky, Imagine without even singing the Whiskey lullaby. That my friend is how Becky crossed the river. That day Lolo had no option but to tuck his pride and partake of our monocotyledons and dicotyledons meal popularly known as ‘Gītheri.’ I guess I could say till we meet my dear nemesis but then again they say, ‘out there are dogs and sorcerers’ I don’t know if mongrels are considered dogs so then again we may never meet since I ain’t a sorcerer.
But then again I’ll have to sing, ‘ damn, it was good knowing you.’
#StillTheChronicler.
The last bark
