Village grudges are usually light, easily forgotten. People are quick to forget they annoyed one another because the opportunities of offending each another anew keep appearing.
When someone does you wrong and arbiters, men who often spend half their days inebriated, take forever to resolve the dispute, the complainant just says; “It is okay. It is okay. By Sunday I will have had my revenge.” And the case is dropped. Everyone is happy.
While such a person may have no outright motivation to revenge, the opportunities present themselves.
Your chickens could stray into this their farm. Your child could skip the queue at the posho mill and his children are late home. You could claim your cow now identifies as a bull and so there is no more milk for this unfortunate neighbour.
That is why many are incensed at the President and his deputy’s battles. If it was in my village, elders, who only need a few cauldrons of illicit liquor, plenty of tobacco and nyama choma, would have ironed out the issues quickly.
The two leaders would have left the sitting arm in arm, probably helping each other walk.
In cases where the elders’ intervention is inadequate, such as when one of them is too drunk and says something so bad the discussions break down, the two disagreeing men can fight it out.
The other day, I stumbled into Harold and his mates discussing the impeachment of Riggy G, for the millionth time, but this time around they were closer to a solution than ever before.
A man of culture, they said, Riggy G must understand that being part of grudges for long soils his credibility as a murima elder. Men should not put themselves into such disrepute. So what to do?
A delegation, led by Harold, will be traveling to Nairobi to meet both sets of lawyers, who may choose to settle their differences outside court in a royal rumble kind of match. Whoever loses becomes the other’s deputy.
Village grudges are usually light, easily forgotten. People are quick to forget they annoyed one another because the opportunities of offending each another anew keep appearing.
When someone does you wrong and arbiters, men who often spend half their days inebriated, take forever to resolve the dispute, the complainant just says; “It is okay. It is okay. By Sunday I will have had my revenge.” And the case is dropped. Everyone is happy.
While such a person may have no outright motivation to revenge, the opportunities present themselves.
Your chickens could stray into this their farm. Your child could skip the queue at the posho mill and his children are late home. You could claim your cow now identifies as a bull and so there is no more milk for this unfortunate neighbour.
That is why many are incensed at the President and his
deputy’s battles
. If it was in my village, elders, who only need a few cauldrons of illicit liquor, plenty of tobacco and nyama choma, would have ironed out the issues quickly.
The two leaders would have left the sitting arm in arm, probably helping each other walk.
In cases where the elders’ intervention is inadequate, such as when one of them is too drunk and says something so bad the discussions break down, the two disagreeing men can fight it out.
The other day, I stumbled into Harold and his mates discussing the impeachment of Riggy G, for the millionth time, but this time around they were closer to a solution than ever before.
A man of culture, they said,
Riggy G
must understand that being part of grudges for long soils his credibility as a murima elder. Men should not put themselves into such disrepute. So what to do?
A delegation, led by Harold, will be traveling to Nairobi to meet both sets of lawyers, who may choose to settle their differences outside court in a royal rumble kind of match. Whoever loses becomes the other’s deputy.
By Peter Theuri