Bwomeera, my uncle, what killed you?
RABBIT ON THE PULPIT
PART 63 “Bwomeera, my uncle, what killed you?”
It was in 1982, or there about,
When Bwomeera passed on,
A handsome man,
My uncle with bands on his anclets,
Those days,
No medical chocolates..
I had enrolled in primary one or moved to two,
So we passed-by my maternal grandpas’
Home, Emanuel Beteekire,
Every morning and noon,
Ai nuuuuunuuuu!
To console, and not condole
Every time we reached their home,
We stopped to commissarate,
With the sick,
For he had waited for the hour too long..
Groaning like an antelope,
In the hunters capture ropes,
Deminishing village hopes…
Especially the animals he hunted down..,
Scared of facing a dying person,
We craned to fulfill the ritual,
But caught the glimpse,
Of this dying man,
His lips twitching,
Mumbling unintelligiable words!
One moment, he seemed to mention,
Kembaga, my Chwezi auntie,
Who mumbled spiritual overtones,
While grazing her goats,
Down Karyeza valley,
Like” Oh Bachwezi bashomi, muunyambe”
Literary, oh demi-gods, help me out…
I chuckled and envied this magma of enigma,
While following her, in the woods,
As she tendered to her goats,
Albeit, she seemed to notice i was behind!
But never cared,
Was she inducting me?!!!
I want to be a chwezi,
So i can chase a few things,
Like blind folding you while,
I have my way,
Any ways…
The next day,
Bwomeera, was dead,
His clean feet lay still,
Emanuel ,
My uncle with squinted eyes,
Never cried,
“ Men do not Cry”