Wednesday, January 23, 2013

Shawn is Gone

Yesterday we spent the entire day preparing for and witnessing a Kikuyu ceremony on a very small shamba just outside Nyahururu.  This was a traditional ceremony celebrating the importance of uncles in the Kikuyu culture; specifically yesterday, John, the uncle of Mary (the mother of David, our friend and guide) was venerated.  Thirty or more years overdue, the ceremony needed to be completed before Mary, 72, or John, 64, dies.  In fact, John is already a stand-in for his older brother who died recently.  John and his deceased older brother were both Mary’s uncles from her mother’s side of the family and are substitutes for uncles she never had on her father’s side of the family – wow.  All quite complicated.

The day started in Nyahururu where David met us for a 40 km drive up country to his mother’s house.  We arrived to see Shawn (our name for him) the ram tied up in the yard with other sheep and goats.  Mary, David’s brother, Julius, Natasha, Julius’ wife, and Queen Ann, Julius’ daughter all greeted us with vigor.  After much milling around for a few hours and some tea, Julius and a helper tied Shawn’s feet, put him in a corn sack, and loaded him in the rear of the van atop the spare tires, about two hours behind schedule.

 

Now, Sandy and I, David, his aforementioned family members, and Shawn, backtracked to Uncle John’s shamba about 4 km the other side of Nyahururu.   There, more family members joined us throughout the afternoon.  Shawn was allowed to graze on the end of a 15 foot tether.  Tea was served with chipati at around 3 PM to tide empty stomachs over the hump.  Still, Shawn survived, at least for a few more minutes.

 

Why cook Shawn and/or others rams like him?  It’s a long-standing Kikuyu tradition.  For Kikuyus, meat (specifically rams) is a symbol of plenty and of passing that plenty on through the generations.  I am told that other tribes have similar rituals and symbolic food – the Luhya have chickens, the Luo have fish, the Samburu, the Masai, and other pastoralists have milk and/or blood,  Akamba have special vegetarian dishes, etc.   

When as many Kikuyu family members as possible have gathered, particularly those on the niece’s side of the family, the uncle slaughters the ram with the help of other family members, butchers it, and gives some of the meat to the women to boil with onions and spices.  The women prepare side dishes of rice, cooked coleslaw, and chipati to go with the boiled ram meat.  Meanwhile, the men boil specific parts of the ram and then roast some of these over an open fire if a special kind of wood.   The boiled lungs are shared with anybody who happens by.  Sandy tells me they taste like chicken gizzards.

 

 

 

While the ram roasts all gathered family members consume the meat the women have boiled as well as side dishes until all are sated.  The table is cleared.  This is part of the celebration but not part of the ceremony, which soon follows.  The uncle brings heaping plates of roasted meat to the table – nothing else.  He sets aside the right front foreleg to present to his niece, Mary (who supplied everything for the feast).  This is called “giving a hand”.  Uncle and others gloat over the pile of roasted meat before it is cut from the bones and passed around with the roasted intestines and boiled stomach.  All but the ribs are consumed.  The ribs are reserved for last after nearly every other scrap of meat is gone.  The boiled neck is taken outside to the young boys (who have not been circumcised).  Each adult must then eat meat from the ribs.  The niece, Mary, is given part of the stomach to eat and she also takes some home with the right front foreleg.  The leg and stomach will be shared this very evening with members of the family who were unable to attend.

Darkness has fallen upon us and we now listen to a discussion (in Kiikuyu) of family issues – those who have died are remembered, those who are facing challenges are acknowledged and advised, and those who provide for the entire family are thanked. 

All this took about two hours and was followed by a closing prayer (Catholics all in this family) and fond farewells before we departed in the pitch black night over local roads and ruts.