THE HOLY MAN

In the grieving home of Mzee Mutashi, the few scattered grass-thatched houses were beautifully decorated with cow dung and clay soil fetched from a nearby swamp. Along grassy patches between the hats, older women sat, drinking tea as they laughed at the stories they told – though any onlooker could tell that their stories were to no good. The younger women kept themselves busy, running up and down to cook and serve with little being said amongst them. Even so, it was strange that no one was crying even after the death news of his eldest grandson, Dalmus, had been dispatched a day now. As per the reports, Dalmus was delivering milk to the market via his old bicycle, as was his daily routine, when a lorry hit him. He died on the spot.

Some sense of the lost soul was somehow displayed in the iron-roofed garage. Usually busy with clients’ bicycles that Mzee Mutashi repaired, and marred with grease, oil, and scrapes; all this had been washed clean, and in their place, benches from the church arranged for the elders’ meeting.

The leader of the meeting was Alphonso. Of course, no one had chosen him to be the leader of the meeting, but it went without saying that being the eldest among the men, a granduncle to Dalmus and elder brother to Mzee Mutashi, he picked the right unquestionably. Even so, despite Alphonso’s milky white hair and beard, coupled with his authoritative voice, he seemed to have lost control of the meeting.

“Please calm down; we cannot continue speaking like children and expect to go anywhere.” Alphonso, confident of himself, rebuked the elders again. And as it seemed, luck was on his side, as most of them picked their cups to sip mouthfuls of tea, except for Matayo, Mutashi’s eldest son, who seemed too agitated to be quiet.
“In all due respect, uncle, we cannot be quiet while we continue keeping quiet about the main issue here.” Matayo spat.

“Can’t you just be quiet and listen to your uncle? Follow his lead,” Amuyunzu, the village elder, rebuked. Though he was addressing Matayo, his look was fixed on Mzee Mutashi as if trying to pass a message.

“And why should I listen to you, old man!” Matayo was by now infuriated. The other men went quiet. No one dared to speak; even the low murmurs died abruptly. And all eyes were now fixed on Matayo.

Matayo, the eldest son of Mzee Mutashi, was indeed an honourable man, and today’s outburst had caught many unaware. Even the village elder, Amuyunzu, an ever-confident man, was too shocked and embarrassed to say anything as he tried to hide behind his cup to quelch the embarrassment drawn all over his face. Matayo was the only learned person in the group, having gone to University in the city. And now, he was the principal of a school in the town. He was not a simple man, but his humility had always made him appear otherwise.

“Gentlemen, does anyone know where my sister, Dalmus’ mother is?” It was more of a lecture than a question from Matayo. And the men retreated deep to the safety of the seats. No one dared to speak. Even the tea that had cooled to the preferred temperature now felt uncomfortable. “She is at the village market. Presumably crazy, walking around naked. And anyone with an idea of where Dalmus’ father is?” Matayo questioned. There were a few murmurs now among the men. What Matayo was trying to put across was by no means a simple matter. Then, a little courage flashed into Amuyunzu’s blood, and he deemed it fit to wash away his earlier embarrassment.

“My son, some things are not as easy as they appear.” Amuyunzu cautioned. Suddenly, as if in collusion with the demons, Matayo laughed hard. No one dared to question him as he laughed his head out. But a few were concerned, was Matayo turning to be as crazy as his sister? Then, as suddenly as when he started laughing, Matayo kept quiet and looked at the men, anger in his eyes.

“And what to you is simple, if I may ask, is death still not a simple thing to you? Are you even listening to yourself, old man?” Matayo burst out. Once again, Amuyunzu retreated. No one moved, except Mzee Mutashi, who had recently suffered a minor stroke. The sick old man twitched in his chair and straightened his walking stick to stand. Sensing his younger brother’s distress, Alphonso, sitting beside him, helped him to his feet. The two brothers stood side by side, one supporting the other. Mzee Mutashi spoke in a struggle in his local dialect.

“Son, please, as Mzee Amuyunzu said, some things are not as easy as you want to put them. I know you are very much learned. But you are no more wise than the elders here. Listen to them. Listen to…”

“You are a disillusioned man!” Matayo cut his father short. At this point, the fearful men could see the veins across his forehead. “You are a disillusioned dying man! You disappoint me, Father.” Now, a tear dropped down Matayo’s left cheek. “You, Father,” Matayo continued, “failed to protect your daughter from being impregnated while fifteen with that rotten man they have entitled a Priest. A Father! A man who dedicated his life not to marry but to save men. And even though you knew the truth, you covered for that leopard with sheep’s skin at the altar and shut your mouth as if you had none. Now, see the terrible life your grandson led. Your daughter, your flesh and blood, is now running around naked at the market. Do you still think this is simple? Even after years, your grandson, son to the mighty priest, worked as a Milkman. Shame on you, Father!” With that, Matayo spat, and looked at the men again, now letting the tears freely flow down his cheeks – a taboo for a Luhya man if you ask anyone, and then, he walked out of the meeting. The men were startled for a while. But the meeting continued as planned, and the mood returned to normal after more tea was brought.

Matayo was barred from attending the elders’ meetings henceforth, and he did not wait for the burial but went back to the city after picking up his sister from the market. On the day of the burial, inside St Peter’s chapel, Father Thomaso was locked in a room for the whole day. He drank a lot of wine and lashed himself on the back severally to atone for his sins. In the evening, he came out as a new man, ready to save the world from Satan.