Undressing a Meru Girl
She was tall, she was suave, she was regal and she was beautiful. The very essence of her presence awakened the throbs of many a sleeping
snake. Many of them viewed her from a distance, not daring enough to come up close. She clearly belonged to another class;... the class of straight talking knights who looked straight ahead without blinking. Lesser mortals invariably lacked the chivalry to make her week on the knee. She was nobody’s bully, but her enthralling majesty scared away many would be suitors.
Her maiden name was Kaburi, (a small goat) and she hailed from Munithu, the clan of the rising sun where all girls learnt to brew potent Marwa, Ameru drink of champions. That is how Igoki neighbours regarded their brave, cattle rich proteges’ bordering Tigania to the east.
Being part of the Imenti forest belt, their land was fertile and well watered by numerous springs. They produced plentiful bananas, yams, Ncabi, millet and sorghum. Even when seasons were poor, they never lacked. This was evidenced by their big body frames and palpable pride that made their girls a formidable catch and their warriors a dreadful terror.
In the time honoured conventions of courtship, warriors had to transcend clan boundaries to seek love. It was abominable for one to seek matrimonial warmth from across the fence. Igoki suitors hence had to wander thither amongst their outlying neighbours to seek love. As it were, intermarriage within the same clan was regarded as incest and dissenters were sternly ostracised by the community.
In 1907, one year before the coming of Mr. Edward Butler Horne, the first DC of Meru, Mukenye (an uncircumcised girl) Kaburi received a visitor at their home in Munithu. When he arrived, the burly visitor, who moved with a spring in his step, walked straight to the fourth hut in her father’s compound. The unique dwelling was situated next to her grandmother’s roundval (Kiuru). The dwelling of interest had two moulds on either side of the entrance that closely resembled the tits of a maiden. A hut so branded was called a Muthimbeere, and it housed nubile girls who had attained the age of majority.
The hut was positioned in such a way that any external visitor getting in had to cross the line of vision of her grandmother, usually seated behind her hearth enjoying the warmth of the evening fire. She was effectively the sentry, always on duty as she guarded the girls from marauding hyenas.
The hyena that arrived today was big in body and great in fame. His name was M’Mburugua O M’Inanga, the general in charge of the Ramare troops of the larger Igoki clan. When he approached the periphery of the homestead, he did what all warriors in such a mission did; he cleared his throat loudly, a gruffy cough not at all caused by an irritated throat. It was a customary warning that the homestead was receiving an important visitor whose interest was the two moulds on either side of the girls’ hut. On hearing that sound, everyone was supposed to clear the way like a siren does to a traffic jam.
The visitor found his way to the right address and he planted his spear snugly on the right hand side of the entrance. In case of a threat, he would rush out and easily grab his weapon with his right hand and engage his adversary. During this visit though, this eventuality was unlikely, for Raibuni Ntomburugua was well guarded by his personal security. After all, he was the general in charge of the Igoki Ramare army. Even as he courted the future first lady, an elite team of seven warriors surrounded the homestead, out of sight.
The tall, burly knight stooped his way into the small hut where he found his quarry warming herself across a vibrant fire. A cursory look around the interior of the hut betrayed the fact that this nocturnal visit was not wholly unexpected. The girl was lounging on a low earthen bed on the left hand side of the hearth that was lined with a fluffy sheepskin. Across from her was an earthen mould that sat about one foot from the ground. This provided a seat for the visitor. On the far side sat a golden brown gouard with a generous bottom that made it rest firmly on its own weight. Its neck was capped with a funnel (Kiauu) of the same hue that was about a foot long. When the secrets of the gouard were unveiled, the funnel would hold the contents for the visitor.
Save for a gaping peep-hole above where the girl sat pensively, the hut was otherwise plain and featureless.
The burly visitor was the first one to speak. His voice was raspy and commanding as he let off a few pleasantries to break the ice. In his line of duty, he was far removed from the niceties of normal talk, especially to the opposite sex. The girl quickly picked the que and moved towards the gouard. She uncorked it, rolled it on the ground in three quick jerks and proceeded to pour out a generous measure of its contents into the funnel. She bent down on one knee as she passed the fully charged receptacle to her visitor while avoiding direct eye contact. It was considered bad manners for a girl to match the gaze of her warrior nemesis.
She reached above the peep-hole and retrieved another smaller funnel (Kauu) that she proceeded to refill for herself. Though they prepared the broth, girls were expected to take only a little beer, more for socialising than the reckless abandon of men. A drunk warrior could stagger his way home, but an inebriated girl could be eaten by hyenas, and there was one on the prowl.
She then flashed a shy intoxicating smile towards her guest and nodded, a sign that the party could commence.
The contents of the gouard was Marwa, the potent millet beer that she had prepared herself for the visitor. The knight gulped down his share in three furious swigs after which he belched loudly. He then passed over the funnel for a refill. As he settled down to a leisurely sipping of the second round, his faculties of the gab opened up.
They were soon lost in animated banter that continued until the dark night was flooded with the halo of midnight moonlight. In the haze and warmth of the dying fire, the Raibuni launched his romantic lines the best way he knew. On the third refill of his funnel, the warrior had grabbed her by the torso and pulled her onto his lap. The resulting embrace was the closest a Meru warrior was allowed to indulge an unmarried girl.
Unhinged by the fuddled ambience of the environment, the voluptuous girl responded with gusto. Her knight had floated in like a Golden Eagle. He had embraced her heart with the warmth of his fluffy feathers and as the musky aroma flooded the room, she knew she was taken.
As the night aged away, the knight found his footing. He reached from under his loin leather pouch and pulled out a bundle of Miraa (Gitundu). He pulled out one twig and handed it to her gingerly. He extracted another twig for himself and they started to chew together. This was the final indication that he had been accepted in her heart.
He handed over the rest of the bundle to the girl which she accepted with a knowing wink. As far as she was concerned, she had located her match. The following morning, the bundle of Miraa would land on her father’s palms, witnessed by her mother and her grandmother. When asked whether he could partake of the offering, she would gladly say “yes”, a vow of sorts initiating marriage procedures to commence between the two families. In another time, in another era, this would be the equivalent of saying “I do”!
Had she turned down the Raibuni's proposition for any reason, she would have pushed the Miraa offering through the peep-hole above her bed to fall outside. Her grandmother would have noticed it there the following morning. By and by, the gossip mills would have churned out negative vibes that would have reached the knight’s family three rivers away. The home of M’Inanga would have known that their son’s romantic overtures to the Munithu clan had hit a snag. The moran would promptly have been advised to set his snares elsewhere.
As things unfolded, Raibuni M’Mburugua had secured himself a future wife. Even as he proceeded with his busy matters of state security leading his Ramare troops, his family was left to pursue the rest of the customary protocols necessary to bring his newly found bride home. God willing, by the end of the harvest season of the year 1907, M’Mburugua O M’Inanga would have himself a new home, complete with a tall, beautiful maiden with thighs of thunder.
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