Roots

UTU. Why UTU? Why now? Because there’s never a perfect time for such things, that’s why. Because it is the little things that matter. Because one needs to make their first step at some point.

UTU begins in Gem, because Gem is my Genesis.

Most Kenyans identify with their tribes and country side, in short where their paternal ancestors last settled. In my case, my parents are Luo/ Jokanyanam, and our roots are around Lake Victoria. No, we didn’t give it that name, a British explorer did. Our people called it Nam Lolwe.

We use our region as an identity.
 Example: my dad is Jagem (Yala /Uyonga) and my mum is Nyar Alego (Masumbi).

Ja = man from. Nyar is the female version. 
Gem and Alego are the “larger” areas.

Consequently, I am Nyar Gem, Yala or Nyar 
Uyonga.

How I met your mother!

In matters destiny, my granddad wasn’t dealt the best card as a kid. He was the second last born son, and was orphaned right after his fifth birthday. He was dragged across to Uganda as a slave. Luckily for him, his masters taught him a bit of English and, more importantly, how to read. He’d also learnt how to cook. Years later, his masters moved back to the UK and dispatched him back to his home country, Gem, Kenya. His skills improved his life and that of his kids, and that is also how he ended up in the Capital city of Nairobi.

My maternal grandparents were teachers. They also sent their kids to school, including my mother who, after her A level equivalent, was packed off to the big city to live with her uncle and hopefully find a job. Her aunt helped her secure a job with East African Airlines. They lived near my dad…

Nyar Uyonga and Jo Uyonga (Jo = people from)

I, like many of my friends at the time, grew up in towns or cities. We’d visit the country side once in a while but it was costly trip and quite a lengthy journey. Our parents and grandparents had moved to the city to find jobs. It was the usual story, they had a thousand responsibilities, which were so many that visiting ‘dala’* (home) or the countryside became a luxury trip.

Today, it is just a choice and few people want to or even see the need to go back to their roots. But I get where this comes from. In the pursuit of a better life, our parents didn’t realize that their overzealous goals for a better life meant that some of us didn’t really get to know and identify with our histories or relatives back home.

Religion and “civilization” by the missionaries had taught most of them to shun their culture and heritage. We only narrated our stories, which meant that a lot was lost along the way.

Then independence came around and the great, ugly monster that was tribalism. Many just don’t bother, probably because of the negativity surrounding the “village people and their lives”. Christmas is, of course, an exception for some.

When I look at how civilizations treasure and protect their heritage, I just weep. But that is a story for another day.

My brothers went to school in the village, which, I guess, made me long for it. They always had adventures, which made my “privileged” life feel quite dull. Even basic swimming lessons scared me to death while they’d learnt how to swim in the raging rivers, and with no instructor in sight. You get no points for figuring out who had more fun and who’s a better swimmer! 

I also loved other things about the countryside in the few times I visited. Notably, and I kid you not, the smell of fresh dung, the raw, earthy smell of soil, the thin, unpolluted air that rushed into your lungs  and the dark, starry sky in the night. There are more things I loved, I just don’t know how to express them. I believe that even now, going to ‘dala’ grounds me, and nourishes me. It’s simply, heavenly.

As I grew older, I got more interested in my dala and my dala people, seeing them, interacting with them and most importantly, learning from them. Life is different over there. People work hard, my Lawd they do, and it breaks my heart to see them toil so hard and suffer just as much. They never complain, they may complain about the weather but they’d never wallow in self-pity. I doubt that they have the time or energy for it. The love and respect I have for these people can’t be expressed in writing. I wouldn’t know how to. They inspire me and I wanted to do something for them, so I hatched a plan, a plan that is changing and growing by the day!

Back to Genesis

I started with the cups back in February, which proved to be a great start. It was meant to be a one off thing, but the more I prepared for it, the more I felt like I could do more, better. I thought to myself, what about the kids? The husbands? I brought along some toys and, more importantly, books. Books because knowledge is power.

Power you say? What is power? What is empowerment?

I didn’t know whether I would offend them. Would they read the books? Would they laugh at my misplaced priorities? Had I become like the missionaries who came to educate the heathen, arrogantly assuming that I know better and that my way is better than theirs? Was I Marie Antoinette? We have all been in situations where we thought we were doing something useful only for it to backfire in our faces. But my people loved the initiative.

They came to bid me farewell with all sorts of goodies. I love avocadoes, only aliens don’t. Someone offered me a wheelbarrow full of avocadoes, stalks of bananas, butternuts etc, enough food to feed us for a year. Of course, we couldn’t bring all of it to France but we enjoyed with family and friends. Some of the goodies did make it to France though! This I had to bring up to show the spirit of my people, who may not have a lot but they happily gave what they had.

Conclusion

Like I said, the project is growing wings. I have a zillion ideas and projects. But one step at a time.

I will unleash the details in good time. They involve but not exclusively: 

- menstrual cups and reusable sanitary towels for the girls and women,

- a fully functional library for the community, 

- a “recreational area” where kids have access to both educational and recreational toys people meet to catch up , watch a movie, show their talents through a “Gem’s got talent” show (name might change as structure) but you get the drift.  

Football aka Mpira

This month I increased the number of books in our library, which I intend to continue doing, as well as everything I can to help empower my people. I hope to convince many to join my journey or to begin their own.

I, of course, haven’t been doing this alone. I have friends who have not only been helping me but have also cheered me on, encouraged me, and helped me believe in the journey. Most of them have never been to Gem. Some have never even been to Kenya.

See? There’s a lot of “UTU” in all of us.

*Dala translates to home. In the luo culture, wherever you live is considered a temporary dwelling. Home is your ancestral land. It is also where you are buried, though married women are buried in their husband's home.