HOW MY FRIEND WILL NOT MARRY SOON

 By Wesonga Robert

wesongarobert@yahoo.com

Beni is a man of faith. From the onset of his life here, he projected that within a couple of years, he would select a suitable girl from the community and marry. This, he told me, was part of his original design to not only render his service to the community, but also become sufficiently desirous, as to save a daughter of a woman from dreaded singlehood.

To reach this end, my friend first set out to learn the Samburu language in as short a time as possible.  This, however, was not easy because the nature of Beni’s job did not afford him an easy opportunity to learn the language. I did not want to dampen my friend’s spirit by telling him what I already was sure of: it is not easy to get a reliable person to teach one a language outside classroom. 

Having been a resident of Samburu long before Beni, I had abandoned the venture when I discovered that the tout, Lobash, who offered to teach me the language, only insisted on a unique syllabus. He decided that I understand the vulgarities and obscenities first, before any meaningful knowledge could be introduced.  

Shortly after making his intentions clear to me, I tried my best to help Beni find the best person in the circumstances to teach him. After going through a list of potential teachers, we settled on an old man of about fifty five. The man, Lempilei, is a retired soldier who walks around town redoing combat drills. These drill he only does them when the level of blood in his alcohol becomes too low for his sanity. This does not happen infrequently. 

On being conducted, the retired soldier agreed to give his lessons absolutely free of charge; but gave a condition. Beni had only to buy him a drink every evening they had a lesson. After looking at the man, Beni determined that his class and taste were not beyond the infamous Trigger Brandy. 

It is needless to mention what this cost Beni in the fullness of time. Only these days can he acknowledge the unnecessarily high cost of his ambitious course. He regretfully says that what he spent was enough to make his sister, Moraa, go through a certificate course in any of the backstreet colleges you know. Besides buying drink for the old man, Beni himself had to drink. 

After three weeks, Beni began to indicate that the old man was not after all wasting his money for nothing. In his conversations, he began throwing in Samburu expressions and exclamations. Never mind that sometimes this resulted in looks of shock on the faces of listeners who knew the language. One of them was honest enough to warn him that if he did not take care, he would one day say something terribly scandalous. On this occasion, he had loudly greeted a female workmate, calling her NANYORAI (In Samburu, My Love). 

The lady did not respond to the greeting, much to Beni’s surprise. She instead put her hands on her waist, and while shaking her head vehemently, lectured Beni on the need to respect other people’s wives. As if to confirm that whatever the gods want to embarrass, they give an oversized ambition, Beni did not heed any of the warnings.

A day would come when Beni thought that it was time to give practical shape to his knowledge. Having acquired what he imagined was an above average knowledge of the Samburu language and its imagery; he identified a girl and decided to approach her. On that afternoon, Beni confessed to the girl how the sun had started shining since her arrival in the neighbourhood. Beni even got poetic and requested his target of adoration to look at the sun. He then educated her that the sun was right then on the Tropic of Capricorn, heading direct to the Equator, in her heart. He went on to prophesy that his heart would soon take the same route. Not yet satisfied that he had created the right impression, he dropped a couple of rhymes he had composed especially for this occasion:

When I returned alone on the long lonely path
The dark fearsome night was cold in its death
And there was no moonlight the path to bath
And the naked stars did not dance the sky’s breadth

That first day, Beni almost told her that she was beautiful. He however decided to save the best for last; when he would deliver his deepest intentions to the girl.

Several weeks later, Beni invited the girl to take a stroll with him. That afternoon Beni put all his linguistic resources at his disposal. After telling Ntaini, as the girl was called, that she was the most beautiful thing to ever happen to humanity since the Egyptian queen Nefertiti, he promised to bring her the sun if she accepted his marriage proposal. Then in Samburu, Beni dropped the line he had been rehearsing for months: “Ntaini, you are so beautiful; you are very much a cow.” He said the words and then waited for a smile, and the dropping of the eyes that invariably follows such flattery. Surprisingly, Ntaini handed Beni the hottest slap he has ever received from a female Homo Sapien. 

I led Beni in finding out from the old man why what had happened, had happened. Upon hearing the story, the old man spoke with the greatest disinterest one can muster. “When I told you that in Samburu cows are precious and are likened to beautiful women, I did not mean it literally. I said so because in our community cows are precious and invaluable. And so are beautiful women. Go sit down and begin to think straight.” 

It then emerged that girl had not lived in Samburu long enough to appreciate the depth of the imagery of her people’s language.  That day I went to bed sorry that my effort to help my friend learn Samburu had made him lose the one thing he had so badly wanted. I resigned to the knowledge that Beni would be looking for a wife for the next very many years.