Dr Fixit (211 - 220)

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of the clans but the baddies in the name 

of trade were busy playing the game 

called 'divide and rule' as they pitched 

one clan against the other so they couldn't be ditched 

by their subjects soon. Well, during their rule 

we had education in a formal setting called school,

motorcars were inching out rat-drawn carts 

and the killing of twins was dead in all parts 

of Antburg that practise it. Open-minded army ants

couldn't help but acknowledged all across the clans

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the rule of the foreign army ants as

'uhkara mbakara'. 'Uhkara' here stands as

rule and you already know the meaning 

of 'mbakara'. We would keep applauding 

everything good and condemn what is bad.

The core evil of colonial rule had

to do with how they treated their subjects.

They saw them as mere objects 

that should be seen and not heard 

and which should be goaded around like a herd.

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The colonial masters treated their subjects

as mere servants and slaves. The idea up in their heads

that their fair skin made them superior 

as our dark skin made us inferior 

really irked folks who believed it was time 

the snobbish army ants returned to their clime.

This was how the movement for independence 

began and in a hurry to leave, there was negligence

where clans with different value systems

were welded together and the frictions hence.

214

The frictions led to the civil war. A part

said it was going away but others did act

to tell fellows there they could not. Why?

Their newly-found wealth in oil had a site

quite massive in the breakaway region.

For over three years a war brewed by that tension 

raged through the clans and the atrocities 

plagued hamlets, towns and cities.

Army ants bombed army ants to death

and millions were cut down by famine and ill-health.

215

My eldest sister was lost to kwashiorkor.

Till this date, the wound-and-death odour 

lingered in grandma's nose. Not only my grandmother

but everyone who survived the war. It's a big bother

when anything pushes the clans

in that direction again. Their hands

would fold in prayer as they asked God

to avert such. May the arrows break and dud

be every bomb. Of course, a massive 'Amen'

to that. But there was friction and friction again.

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On Saturday, we woke up to a jolly good day.

I did my morning chores and in the usual way

greeted everyone. I bathed, ate and later 

joined grandma in the kiosk. The welder,

carpenter and other artisans along our street 

were busy in their shops and the soundbox beat

familiar anthems that echoed around 

our neighbourhood. The rhythmic sound 

had drawn to the front of the record shop

a fellow with matted dreadlocks who hopped 

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and swung his limbs in tune to every hit.

He had dirty clothes on and no shoes on his feet.

On his lips was a cigarette that was lit 

and as part of his show, the lanky Madit 

would stop and belch the smoke from his nose,

mouth and ears and then would pose

with shoulders raised like a wrestler 

before dancing again. The mad dancer

commanded attention from people along 

our street and idle kids formed a throng 

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watching him from all sides. Even the artisans 

had one eye on their work and one on the dance 

displayed by Madit. Even grandma smiled at

his antics. Done dancing, Madit spat

the stub of cigarette from his mouth 

and moved from shop to shop begging. 'A tout,'

Ma Moneyit said, keeping her bottle 

down near the oil gallon, then on her knuckle 

she cleaned the imaginary oil on her hand

and sat down on the floor, the sand

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and the end of her wrapper kissing.

'A tout,' she repeated, 'and cartwasher the stripling 

had been and made good money from the cartowners 

for they liked the way he washed from remote corners 

to the outer panels but the money he made

he spent in smoking 'hekay ehkpo'." Big Mama laid

the tray she held down on the floor beside 

the stool she sat on. Tobacco leaves were inside

the tray which grandma was shredding,

then she'd dry them in the sun for grinding 

220