Back to my village, Chepyoset where almost everyone has unchecked appetite. Now, with exception of ‘githeri’-a mixture of boiled maize and beans, and sweet potatoes, Bomori’s appetite accommodates itself indifferently to all sorts of diets, he eats as though eating is his pastime activity and as Korgoren his agemate puts it; “Bomori’s swallow-sound resembles that of someone demolishing Kipkuberet- a desolate grass-thatched hut, specifically the sound of the roof and apex falling down.” Occasionally, when the village is rocked with famine, Villager’s survival tactics are hatched almost spontaneously. He can never lack an idea on how to force himself into people’s homes whenever he weighs the chances of getting a steamy ugali and cool mursik to be high. For instance, the last two weeks Korgoren’s home has had to contend unwillingly with the constant arrival of this unwelcomed villager who shows up punctually at meal times with an excuse of coming to pick his nairiet (a crown made of cowries fastened to straps of interwoven hide and used during ceremonies) that he willfully forgets immediately after meals only to come back the following day again bemoaning his failing memory. “Oooh Eee! Lemenyi, I hope your children love one another.” He said extending his hand to shake Korgoren’s “Oooh Eee! They do, how about yours.” Korgoren said reaching for his plate. “They are well.” He said looking at the water-jar. “Eee! Please wash your hands.” Korgoren said handing him a water-jar.
Posted on: Sun, 07 Sep 2014 09:04:55 +0000
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