What if we ventured beyond our village?

Mambo Biad was the hero of Herodoto village. Herodoto was a horrible village, full of horrific facts and horrendous fables. It was also a village of both dreadful and daring acts. Planters of Heroine poppy plantations were as popular as Bwana Pesa. Bwana Pesa was the richest man in the whole village. In bravado and braggadocio, he would boast to all who cared to listen. Many said that he had as much money as the sand of Sahara desert. However, he was as old as Herodotus and many thought of him as a contemporary of Euripides.

Herodoto inhabitants’ ego and evil echoed throughout the lands far and near. It was a hermit kingdom too.  The village elder was kindred to Kivongo. He was not just a man of kindness but holistic hospitality. Kivongo was the prophetess of the village. She would commune with the unseen and pass the scenes of unseen to the serene and yet sinful village. She also acted as a medium for dealings between the netherworld and the world of the living. Kivongo was a generous prophetess. She would food with every share hungry soul. She was unlike Kimbewendembwende, the village miser. Even the village mice knew he was a miser. He would only spend his silver coins at Kindumbwendumbwe – a place where entertainment sports were held.

 

A huge river cut through the village dividing it into two chunks of charming land. The two pieces of land looked like chumming two strangers. The river was constantly swollen and it would occasionally swallow the cattle of the villagers.

To the East of the Village lay three hills. One was covered with flowering plants. It greeted the villagers with a warm smile every morning. The second village was covered with huge boulders and it threatened the villagers’ every day with near-miss avalanches. The third one was covered with huge canopy trees. It always sneered at villagers every evening with a gloomy shade of darkness.

Mambo Biad grew up in the house of Dingo. He grew slender and sleek.  Dingo drunk from Dracula’s pot. That is why he was well known for pick-pocketing. With mastery, he had mustered the courage to thieve even from the Dracula’s pot. His son had vowed to grow up differently as a diff.

As he became of age, Mambo Biad decided to travel to a foreign land so as to see for himself the famed Lake Ziwa, and perhaps start a lifestyle of fishing. He had purposed to diverge from the pathetical path and champion a way of liberation. News had spread far and wide that fishing was such a lucrative activity. Anyone who put his or her hand on the net never looked back.

No one would risk going past the village. It was believed that creatures called Ufos lived in the great forest of Msitu. These creatures had never been seen, but stories about them had circulated around like blood in human body. It was said that the creatures would pursue travellers and scare them all. As travellers neared Lake Ziwa, the Ufos would convert them into dinner.

Mambo Biad he had only known Herodoto village. The physical boundaries had limited his mental fluidity. The inhabitants of the village dared not go beyond what they knew. Even the first family farmed on the familiar ground, for it is better to stay in a cocoon than get out and encounter the unfamiliar. They failed to realise that they could only fly in beauty like butterflies if they ventured out of the cocoon. Mambo Biad decided to break this jinx and confront the jinn.

He set out one bright morning with a purse full of paraphernalia and two pieces of roasted cassava and sweet potato. The morning sun was smiling at him as he hurried through the dense bushes. He would occasionally look back to see who was coming after him, for he kept hearing footsteps from behind. He instinctively knew someone or something was on his heels. The more he went the louder the pursuing steps became.

He would occasionally stop, sit down and bite on his cassava before drinking water. The pursuing footsteps would end abruptly, only to restart when Mambo Biad stood up.

The courageous lad would soldier on. His heart would beat faster not because of the intimidating, trailing footsteps but due to exhaustion. For five days he went. The beckoning lake of opportunities stirred his determination. The nights passed as fast as a shooting star. The days vanished one after another like morning due.

At night he would lay down to sleep, not minding the charging footsteps. He would sleep soundly but in circumspection.

By the seventh day, the unending bluish waters of Ziwa could be spotted. It was such a sigh of relief to Mambo Biad. In no time he had arrived at the place of greatness. It was the zenith of his dreams.

As he settled down to admire the exquisite beauty of Ziwa, Mambo Biad thought, ‘It pays to cross borders. It is refreshing and ravishing to break boundaries. It is the helm of extraordinariness to overcome stereotypes and myths. My thought process will certainly grow as I meet people I have never been with. Away from sameness, away from familiarity, away from the village, away from the cocoon, away from where I was born and raised. I will explore the new lands, and meet new people, mingle and become of high grade. Here I come………….’

Mambo Biad’s adventures beyond the village will continue.

2 Responses to "What if we ventured beyond our village?"

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