The Land or us?

Imagine it - the whole country just got independence , drums everywhere , and then BOOM that huge mugumo (fig) trees falls right when Mugo said it would seventy years earlier . People shouting and sprinting to their feet. Goosebumps!

Hearing of the story , my ally asked me a question, what would I do in such a position? The answer was not an expected one to him. In the midst of the horrified multitude, I would  move towards the fallen tree and be in harmony with the spirit there because I feel he was happy wherever he was and that's why it was struck:to show our bondage is torn up. The curse on the black people was done. It would not be about being spiritual, but to try and see from his point of view,what , it alive he would have felt and wanted.

The word he said replayed in my mind vividly,

"The day the great mugumo free falls, that is the day the white man will leave Kenya."

It dawned on me that each of us has a Mugo in them . It's the thing in us that always wishes good to the people we cherish and even our country. You know, the awesome feeling when you see your country win medals in world competitions. The pride in our chests we get no matter where we are at all times. The difference is, we don't have power to warn of calamities, but we have power be died not : to stay and save the country we built. We may not have.the power to foresee the future , but, it does not mean we can never do something about it. Just being there during disasters and doing our best to save the country and community that we worked hard to build. . Trying our best to ensure it remains strong is a power that Mugo never had to put into use as he had already passed on by the time colonisation took over. However, the tree falling meant he was still watching and praying for the day of independence even after he was gone. And that is the Mugo that we should all strive to build in ourselves, that no matter where we are or what state, we will always be rooting for our nation despite the conditions surrounding us.

My Mugo, the Mugo in me, prays that this land that we shed so much blood for, should not make us turn against each other. Yes, we did give much to take the land back, to reclaim and possess it,even letting it grow, but still, it is not worth our unity and our beliefs and values that we have held for so long in us. He is sure that even if our ancestors were to rise up again, they would rather give away  the land they gave their lives for, for free, than see us living us like animals and without any values because, values makes character and character makes a person.

Well reader, you have to pardon me i must say,for not telling you where I heard the story from or from who. After a cloudy morning that had left me spiritless, I had decided to take a stroll around the village. It's at that time I had met my friend Beryl, who led me to where a fig tree had reportedly fallen over , after heavy rains during the night. A mammoth crowd had gathered there. People were already arguing -" whose land is this now?The tree is gone , we can farm here"

Noisy chatter filled the whole place. Then pin drop silence. Step by step the village elder approached the area. All eyes glared at him full of expectations . Those at the back jostled and cranned their necks to get a glimpse of the happening. Watched, it seemed the elder had to premeditate every step. Beryl and I squeezed our way through the crowd and neared the tree. The elder , well known as Hinga watched the tree closely. No one had moved so close to it as it was considered a taboo.

"Thaai to you all", he heard started, with only a few replies as the traditional greetings had long become history amongst the villagers. He explained that continued watching Hinga , who had now knelt near the hole where the tree had been uprooted. The roots had left a hole deep enough to hide a child.when the issue was no small matter as it required the intervention of the elders and Mweneyaga. All were asked to disperse and the village chief would be informed on what to be done. The people trudged to different directions murmuring in a disappointed manner. I stood there watching Hinga as if awaiting for him to personally take me from there. Beryl saved at me and left saying he still had chores to complete back home. I waved back.

I moved towards him and asked, "Mzee, why are you kneeling here?"

  Hinga said, "Because everyone is looking at the land that is now empty. No one is looking at the hole that had held it together."

He put his hand in the hole and pulled out soil and put it in my hands.

" This is not land, he said. "Land you can buy and sell. This is soil. Soil remembers who stood together here."

I said,"But we are invisible now. Like Gogol's clerk"

Hinga laughed. "Invisible? The roots were invisible for a hundred years. But they held the tree up. You don't need to  be seen. You need to hold."

After that he narrated to me the story of the mugumo free at Thika and of Mugo. I walked to my humble abode thoughtful about his words and now, here I am telling you this. I now remember another fascinating thing that Hinga,the seed told me.

        "The white men  heard news about Mugo's prophecy and put a mound of earth around the tree and an iron ring around it to prevent it from falling." Ridiculous right? But still it was surprising to know that the Europeans, just to maintain their power and all benefits from the country , would go to the extent of believing a black man's prophecy ,even though they were so patronising about Africans and their religious beliefs . The same beliefs that had been considered outdated and evil made them experience sleepless nights. Turning and tossing on their beds all night long.

I think I'm the same way thanks the Europeans failed to stop the tree from falling , we as a country, trying to uphold unity and building our country without values is a similar situation. The white people failed to understand that, you cannot hold a sacre thing with iron. You hold it with values. Africa as a whole, tries book and crook to reach the same level as the industrialised countries. So, we imitate them and their way of doing things and in the process we forget our roots. We forget the invisible values that have long been our support from the very beginning before the colonialism. We also forget that even for the Europeans whom we kind of hold on a pedestal to reach where they are, they had values that they depended upon at the time to be where they are. They used and clutched onto those values to enable them to lay a prominent foundation.

They had to work hard, be United , love their country and stick to those values even at the most wearisome...