The Water Cycle

Andrew Nyongesa

Description

The Water Cycle is tremendously scenic and realistic in depiction of the plight of the African child in the midst of clash of Western and African cultures. This novel presents a captivating rendition of a clash of cultures and is a well-woven, heart rending tragedy of a man at the crossroads of two cultures.

Informations

• Publié par: Mwanaka Media and Publishing
• Date de parution: 28 juin 2018
• Nombre de lectures: 0
• EAN13: 9780797496897
• Langue: English
• Poids de l'ouvrage: 2 Mo

Extrait

The Water Cycle

The Water Cycle

Andrew Nyongesa

Andrew Nyongesa

THE WATER CYCLE

Novel

Andrew Nyongesa

Mwanaka Media and Publishing Pvt Ltd, Chitungwiza Zimbabwe * Creativity, Wisdom and Beauty

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Publisher: Mmap Mwanaka Media and Publishing Pvt Ltd 24 Svosve Road, Zengeza 1 Chitungwiza Zimbabwe [e-mail] https//mwanakamediaandpublishing.weebly.com

Distributed in and outside N. America by African Books Collective [e-mail] www.africanbookscollective.com

ISBN: 978-0-7974-9439-8 EAN: 9780797494398

© Andrew Nyongesa 2018

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, mechanical or electronic, including photocopying and recording, or be stored in any information storage or retrieval system, without written permission from the publisher

DISCLAIMER All views expressed in this publication are those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views ofMmap.

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ACKNOWLEDGEMENT

I wish to thank the following people for their assistance to make this book successful: Mr. Stephen Barasa, my composition writing teacher who taught me empathy as a cornerstone in creative writing. Mr. David Sikulu, my high school teacher of English who guided me to work hard and succeed in life. Dr. John Mugubi (Kenyatta University); he gave me a strong foundation in stylistics. Dr. Kisa Amateshe; he taught me the importance of grammatical rules in writing. Dr. Justus Makokha for his exemplary mentorship and networking that accessed me to serious publishers. My late father, Japheth Nyongesa who taught me the importance of education in life. I thank my wife Esther Mualuko for giving me the peace and moral support to write this book.

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DEDICATION I dedicate this novel to my mother Lena Simiyu Nyongesa. Thank you for raising me well and teaching me the folklores of my people.

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GLOSSARY Bakoki: A Luhya term used to refer to a colleague in the age set. Bamaina: Men who belong to the ageset, Maina of Bukusu community. Bayobo: A term used by the Luhya to refer to the Sabaot people who live on Mount Elgon (Mount Masaba). Enderema: A climbing plant with smooth leaves that grows along rivers in Western Kenya. Ekhafu: A Bukusu word for cattle. Enguu: A herb that was used by the Luhya to treat wounds. Ilitungu: A stringed, musical instrument among the Luhya people of Kenya. Khuchukhila: A stage in Bukusu (Luhya) circumcision when a father advises the initiate and smears his body with a molten mixture of fermented flour and yeast. Khutumia Kamaika: A rite that is carried out after marriage in which the groom works himself up in a tantrum to beat his wife as a welcome sign to the challenges of marriage. Kumuse: A sitting of elders after death of a respected person that aims at counseling the bereaved and appropriate his wealth. Kwiche: A Luhya word used to accept a challenge in a riddling session. Mulembe yaya : It is courteous way of treating a sister.

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Foreword As Maya Angelou said, a bird doesn’t sing because it has an answer, it sings because it has a song.The Water Cycleyet is another song from Andrew Nyongesa’s copious literary harp. Through careful management of language in this novel, Nyongesa is able to yield pleasure. The splendour of linguistic manipulation at syntactic and lexical level brings out unsparing instinct for reality to bear on platitudes and pieties of society. The concreteness of texture of language employed evokes and recreates sensory perceptions that subtly depict the projected meaning. The sense of human tragedy dominates the main character, Kisiang’ani. It manifests through hubris and pathos in every milestone of his life. As Robert Frost would say, the author ofThe Water Cycle has “truly been acquainted with the night”. Because he knows the midnight as well as the high noon, because he understands the ordeals as well as the triumphs of the human spirit, in this novel, just like inThe Endless Battle andThe Blissabyss, Nyongesa holds deep faith in the spirit of humans, and it is hardly an accident that he couples Literature and power, for he sees Literature as the means of saving power from itself. When power in whatever form leads people like Mauka, Kisiang’ani and Mukesi towards pride, Literature reminds them of their limitations. When power narrows areas of people’s concern, Literature reminds them of the richness and diversity of their existence and the need to promote healthy vibrant societies to ameliorate human suffering; to promote a thoughtful, empathetic world order. Where power corrupts, literary art cleanses; for literature establishes the basic human truth which must serve as the touchstone of our judgment.

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I congratulate Andrew Nyongesa on being faithful to his personal vision of reality. And inThe Water Cycle,through the physical, cultural and psychological conflicts in the prime mover, the author remains a champion of the individual mind and sensibility against an unfeeling, narcissistic and intrusive society. In pursuing his perceptions of reality, like Mukesi, the author often sails against the currents of time. This is not popular role, but he soldiers on like a true artist. John Mugubi, phD Dean, School of Creative Arts, Film and Media Studies Kenyatta University, Nairobi.

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PROLOGUE “Gather your shattering pieces and be firm. Dry your emotional springs and be hard.” That was his mantra. A man had to be strong. A man had to be lion hearted to protect his wife and children from enemies. Many a time, he exhorted his sons that fears and tears never ought to be familiar with manhood. He was a man whose gifts would spun many generations. He was a man of means; a celebrated proprietor of tens of wives, hundreds of children and thousands of cattle. This was evident in his appearance: bull shoulders, fat cheeks, sinewy muscles and a shiny dark skin. A hale and hearty man. Ever clad in a leopard skin from a beast he had single handedly killed adjacent to his cave. He had sworn in the name of his ancestors to hand it down to hundreds of descendants as an eligible monument of his courage and fearlessness. Every first born son of each generation was entitled to the skin. He considered it a duty he owed society to kill every stranger he encountered. He did not just have a strong attachment to war but was a seasoned architect of the same. His air was grave and ghost-like. Any encounter with a man who could not respond to his greeting in the language of Mwambu yielded a duel whose consequences were tragic. Such to him, were atrocious intruders into the privacy of the sons of Mwambu and deserved death penalty or severe fines in form of women or cattle, depending on his whims. In his sage advice to sons, which he seldom gave, he held that other tribes especially Bayobos, were dishonourable characters. He exhorted his sons to instigate scathing brawls whenever they bumped into them, the result of which was wealth: women, cattle or land. He never bickered with a wife.

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He never argued with a son. He thundered and they darted in frenzy. Dance to his tune or die. He was a valiant man. He would not allow this foreigner who was approaching him this misty evening to live. He was on his trap inspection tour on the outskirts of Chebyuk. He had stood at a desolate place surrounded by little thin trees. Caves and high grasses, peering into a distant west. An intruder was pacing towards him; a thin rascal. He set his pipe of Marijuana ablaze and smoked it with great vehemence. His bloodshot eyes beheld the sun setting in Masolo and a gust of the wind blowing the mist towards Okoro, the distant depression yonder. The foreigner came closer and the valiant man warmed up for combat. His first act was to tighten his grip on the spear. Secondly, fasten the grasp on the shield. Thirdly, clear his throat of phlegm to draw his opponent’s attention. His fourth, was hampered by swearing, ‘I’ll kill him or get circumcised again. Am I not a descendant of Mango? The courageous man who killed a flying snake?’ “If he’s a Muyobo, I’ll kill him.” “…..how are you!” The man uttered his fourth act in first language to place the identity of the stranger. The stranger stared at the apparition timidly. He seemed to be on his gathering tour to the forest. In a rising scotching fury, the ‘mighty’ man warmed himself up for a duel. In a flip of an eyelid, a flying arrow reached him and in a flash hauled his shield to immolate its break neck momentum. The ‘valiant’ man advanced towards his opponent. A torrent of arrows reached him at short intervals. He dodged and blocked them with the shield. The man hurtled through the high grasses and scything weeds. He

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