I shall never forget a dream I had last night. This was what I dreamt about. I saw the beautiful land of my father, the land that had once belonged to my ancestors who left it to my great grandfathers. The title of the land had passed on, down generations until my father took possession. It was such a wonderful land, as it was way back during creation and when my great ancestors received it from the great one- Mulungu, Ngai mumbi wa itu na nthi. Its wide, well ordered plains and high forests spread far away from the villages, and on all the sides the land was the same as it had always been from as far as when it was uncultivated. The streams zigzagged lazily through the high forests flowing towards the big river and onto the great ocean.
I saw young children run helter-skelter in the green fields, chasing after butterflies, laughter painted all over their young and overzealous faces. I saw pregnant women plucking red berries from the gardens and singing merrily, as their husbands hurriedly waded through the streams from grazing fields, which scattered beyond the hills, far way into the great Kapiti plains. Evening brought with it sounds of cattle coming back home to be milked. The sun was setting in that beautiful land. Life was full of mirth, laughing and loving, in my father’s land. How lively and lithe and light life was over the whole land?
As the evening descended over the whole land paving way to the great darkness, the moon lit the great sky to give it a silver appearance. One would have easily thought it to be daytime with the sun changing from golden to silver, the light that gave my younger day’s glamour, moving from one village to another with my peers looking for what I couldn’t possibly explain.
The daytime was full of life, in my father’s land, and the night time full of reflections. Lessons from our history had to be learnt. The young boys would sit at the feet of the elderly men in the villages, listening to the story unfold, of how our ancestors moved from their former land to the present land we now lived in and cultivated. My great ancestors in their own wisdom had sought to give us a fuller life and for this reason, they had fought for the land, to protect it and maintain its purity to the present. It was in this form that the land was handed it over to my father. So by all means us, as, the young Turks of our community had to sit and be taught the history of our land to enable us to protect and keep its sanctity.
And I saw the face of my great ancestor; my great grandfather emerged from the clouds and looked down to me. His eyes, filled with wisdom seized me as he spoke to me, “the land, my son”, he said, “Is our heritage. We struggled to purify it and free it from all impediments. The land was pure as it was passed down to your father’s fathers. We protected its sanctity and kept the promise of our land alive.”
And I saw a great cloud descend over my great grandfather. The darkness engulfed the whole land and the silver sky turned grey. I could no longer see the face of the great legend, but I could still hear him speak to me; ‘my son, your fathers were wicked. They fought and shed the blood of their kinsmen over the land. As a result, a curse descended upon the land. The wickedness of your fathers destroyed the sanctity and raped the purity of our land. The land became no longer reproductive and the people and to toil and suffer in their own land. My son, never forget that greed is the destroyer of every good thing that has been made. Our people were greedy and this drove the land into chaos and destruction. My son, wake up and fight for your land. But remember the words of your ancestors; you don’t have to kill and shed blood to liberate your land. We didn’t shed blood to get you the land you now occupy. The land is a blessing and our heritage. My son…” the voice of the great man trailed off.
And I saw the new land of my father, the land that once stood out, tall and proud among the other lands and which now sorrowfully lay in ruins. Its wide forests no longer stood out in the plains. Children no longer sang out merrily, but sat outside weeping and shedding tears of distress, tears of a promise broken and a dream shattered. Pregnant women no longer went out to pick berries and wait for their husbands to herd cows home. Men no longer went out to graze, they instead stood outside the villages, bows and arrows in hand, waiting for their turn to slaughter or be slaughtered. In this great time, there were only two things involved, it was either you slaughter your neighbor or your neighbor slaughtered you. You were a bit lucky if your neighbor slaughtered you first thus sparing you the agony of witnessing your children, your very own, and their mother being roasted alive in your own hut as you helplessly watched. The land was full of hatred. The streams no longer flowed lazily into rivers, but were now scenes of blood clotted in them. There was such pain in the land of my fathers. Our land had turned from one heaven and pride of everyone into a hell, and a betrayer of our common cause.
And I saw the great sky turn into red. The silver light no longer existed in the sky as the sky only reflected the great misery that had befallen the land. The blood that flowed in our rivers spilt on the banks and dried the great forests that stood all around the villages. Our land was bare. Stories were no longer told by the hearth as brothers turned against their very own with vengeance. It was indeed a sad period that we had least anticipated a situation that was beyond our making. What was left was to learn and devise ways in which to deal with the predicament that had befallen our land. We had to chat a way forward, to try and restore sanctity and sanity back in our land. We needed to purify our land and make it more productive again. The sins of our fathers had brought great pain over the land- a land we all cherished and adored, and painfully loved. This was the end result of loving our land too much…
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