Kintu Read online

  “I set off prompt. I am steady,” Baale was beside himself.

  “When all you have are a few stolen moments with a jittery girl, anyone will set off fast and steady. I am talking about a real woman. When you have all night, when a woman makes you stand on your toes without relief. Do you know that a woman, while you are at it, can fall asleep? And when you are done and say, Welcome back, she snores at you.”

  Baale was silent.

  “Come, hold this gourd for me. Put the fire out first. Take this gourd and place it near that banana leaf . . . Be careful, Baale. Now hold this one for me.” Kintu noticed that Baale’s hands were shaking. “Don’t worry about women. I was like you but with time I worked them out. You see, we Ganda, we don’t leave the propagation of the nation to chance. You must know what you’re getting into before we place our bid on Ntongo’s lap. Assure me that all’s well and I’ll assemble an impressive team made of my brothers, my older sons, and my friends. They shall descend on Ntongo’s village and her family with style and pomp. But all that will be a show if you don’t display something as impressive when she arrives.”

  “Obviously, I’ve never been married so I don’t—”

  “Now you talk like a man. Lift that jug. Are you sure you can carry it fine? We don’t want to collect Kayuki’s honey and pour it at his doorstep . . . Be careful, Baale. You know what, put it down, go home, and bring someone else to help us.”

  The way Baale fled down the hill made Kintu wonder whether he had been harsh. But he knew the pressures society put on men in marriage and he would never send a son into it unprepared.

  13.

  Two moons later, Baale, accompanied by his brothers and an uncle, paid an initial private visit to Ntongo’s parents to inform them of his intentions toward their daughter. Not to seem desperate, Ntongo’s parents told the party that they would “think about it.” Now Kintu had received a message asking Baale to bring the dowry within three moons. Three moons would take the wedding into Musenene’s rains, but Baale had refused to change the dates.

  Kintu had a program for Baale’s grooming. First, he had to take Baale away from his mothers and from Kiyirika Village so that he could taste life without them. Baale also needed to understand that not all women were kneeling yes-sir women. But most of all, something had to be done about that brooding energy.

  Kintu summoned Baale and they went for a walk. They came to Nnondo’s house and Kintu asked him to join them. As they walked, Kintu informed Baale that he was sending him away into the service of Princess Mazzi immediately. Nnondo, walking a step behind father and son, listened silently. Kintu told Baale that Mazzi, Namugala’s youngest daughter, had recently traveled to Buddu. She needed dependable young men to run her temporary home.

  “The princess will introduce you to public and royal etiquette—learn with diligence. Do not bring dishonor onto your mothers. Do whatever she asks with a good heart. Be open to new ways. Keep your ears and eyes open. Most of all, guard your tongue: if you must speak say good things only. I expect her to travel back to Kyadondo in a moon. She won’t need your services after that, and you must return home.”

  “When do I leave?” Baale was excited at the prospect of travel.

  “Now.”

  “Eh?” Baale gasped at the haste. But Kintu did not offer any explanation.

  “Go home and pack a few things.”

  As Baale left, Kintu held his hand and said, “Wait, you don’t breathe a word to anyone—not even to your mothers. Do not bid anyone goodbye.” Baale kept nodding. “When you are packed, come to Nnondo’s house. You will set off from there.”

  When Baale had left, Kintu turned to Nnondo. He held in his hands a single cassava stem. It was short, half of what women used to plant cassava. It was thick but carefully cut at both ends. Now Kintu handed it over to Nnondo with both hands.

  “This is a message to Princess Mazzi,” he looked straight in Nnondo’s eyes. “Don’t give it to a servant; don’t show it to anyone. If Mazzi can’t see you immediately, keep it close to your chest. When she’s ready to see you, present this stem with Baale. Tell her that this is the cassava that she craves, the very stalk. Tell her that Baale will be in her service for a moon and I would like her opinion of him. Do you understand?”

  “I am a man, Ppookino.”

  “And, Nnondo, my son is in your hands.”

  Nnondo nodded.

  Kintu added, “You know he will be Ppookino one day. Keep an eye on him, see how he carries himself over there, advise him, and bring him home safely.”

  “No word will rise off my tongue.”

  The two men turned and walked back to Nnondo’s house. Now they talked about the Ssoga who had recently killed the governors Kyabaggu had appointed, again.

  “Do you think that Kyabaggu is going to give up now?”

  “And do what? He needs something to occupy him. He will go back to Busoga and the Ssoga will disappear into their bushes knowing that he would not stay long, otherwise he will lose his throne over here in Buganda. As soon as he returns to Buganda they will kill the governors and they shall go on like that until Kyabaggu gets tired or killed.”

  Nnondo sighed, “Then let’s wait and see.”

  Soon Baale arrived at Nnondo’s house carrying a small sack. When Nnondo and the men escorting Baale had left, Kintu returned to his home and informed Babirye and Nnakato that Baale had set off for apprenticeship.

  Babirye kept silent. Nnakato was upset.

  “He didn’t even say goodbye to his mothers,” she said.

  “Baale’s getting married soon. He will do things without informing us, unless he is taking you along to his marriage.”

  “That’s not what I meant, Mbuga. Baale has never strayed beyond family.”

  “Now he has, as he should.”

  To indicate that the discussion was over, Kintu walked away. He smiled to himself. Nnakato would convulse if she knew that Baale had been sent to Princess Mazzi. Mazzi was notorious the world over. She had lasted only three days in marriage after the honeymoon because, as she lisped when she returned to her grandmother Nnabulya, “The husband wanted breakfast; I made it. He asked for lunch; I made it. Then he wanted supper and like a good person, I made it. For two days I suffered silently but then on the third day he was at it again—can you imagine the ash?”

  From then on, Mazzi became a metaphor for spoiled brides in the kingdom. She refused to return to marriage even when she was given servants to take with her. Out of boredom, she now toured the nation.

  One moon after Baale’s departure, Nnondo returned without him. Nnondo asked to see Kintu in private. When Kintu saw Nnondo without Baale, his heart leaped into his mouth.

  “Where’s my child, Nnondo?” There was a slight tremor in his voice.

  “The princess has had a change of plan. She won’t leave until Musenene.”

  Kintu sighed with relief but was still confused.

  “When the rain sets in? How will she cross the River Katonga?”

  “I wondered too.”

  “Listen Nnondo, we’ve only got two moons to taking the dowry.”

  “I couldn’t talk back to Mazzi. All she said was that I should come and let you know that Baale’s fine. She also said that from the look of the stem, the cassava is a fine specimen. Baale is quick to learn in royal etiquette but some edges still need caressing into smoothness. Another moon, maybe a moon and a half would round him out.”

  “A moon and a half—did Mazzi actually say that?”

  Nnondo spread his arms helplessly.

  “How did Baale seem to you? Does he want to come home?”

  “I hardly see him: the princess keeps him quite close. I think he’s enjoying the attention.”

  “All right, Nnondo. Take a rest. In a week, go back to Mazzi and tell her that Baale is getting married soon and must return home. Don’t let her take my boy.”

  14.

  The Baale who returned from Princess Mazzi’s service was unrecognizable. Pens
ive and quiet, he was lean and had lost his former bouncy gait. Nnondo reported that Mazzi would have taken Baale along if Kintu had not been insistent.

  Nnakato fussed. Baale ate less. For an apprentice, he looked pampered. His skin had softened as if he spent most of the time indoors, and he had the air about him of someone who had been idle most of the time. What was more, Baale took time to readjust to his old life. He did not return to his friends, however. Instead he kept close to home, preparing his piece of land for the arrival of his bride. Nnakato wondered loudly what had transformed her boy into the reserved man, but Baale only smiled. Kintu was satisfied. If Baale had lost his heart to the princess then what better way to break out of the cocoon of childhood into manhood than through heartbreak? He hoped that by the wedding day, Baale would have recovered.

  A week after his return, Kintu called Baale to talk. This time, he gave him a stool and a gourd of brew and said, “Now we shall drink together.”

  Baale looked up at his father worriedly but did not ask why.

  “Because,” Kintu answered the question in Baale’s eyes, “I want to see whether you control your drink or it controls you.”

  Baale laughed shortly but he did not protest. He waited for his father to state why he had called him.

  “How’s your compound going?” Kintu asked.

  “So far, on time. All the thatch for the roof has been brought in. It is drying now. I’ve been working on Ntongo’s garden. I’ve planted matooke suckers further afield and her vegetables close to the house.”

  “And how was the princess?”

  Baale looked at the floor. “She was leaving when we left,” he said.

  “I know she was leaving but how was she?”

  “She was fine.” Baale still looked at the floor.

  “Do you want to return into her service?” Kintu stared at Baale intently.

  “Me?” Baale looked up. “No. It’s time to prepare for Ntongo.”

  “Do you still want Ntongo to come?

  “Of course.”

  “I thought the princess had devoured your soul and Ntongo was no more.”

  “No, not at all. Princesses are like wind—they blow this way and blow that way. You don’t want to blow with them.”

  “Thanks for the advice!” Kintu laughed. Then he became serious. “If that is the case, in fourteen days, I’ll assemble men and women to accompany you to take Ntongo’s dowry. Normally, the dowry day is the wedding day, but you want the wedding later?”

  “I don’t want the strain of doing everything on the same day.”

  “That’s fine. However, on the eve of the dowry day all the married men we know will be here for you: your uncles, your brothers, my friends, and village elders will converge to talk to you all night. Don’t drink or get yourself tired.”

  Baale smiled. The legendary groom sessions attended by married men only: he could not wait.

  15.

  Musenene’s drizzles were relentless. The sun was in hibernation. The sky had dripped all morning, took a breath at midday, and started again. It had not stopped since.

  It was beginning to get dark when men, including elders, governors, and friends of Kintu, started to assemble in the kitawuluzi, the large building set aside for meetings, consultations, and settling disputes. The kitawuluzi was circular. At the threshold, the thatch fell in such a fringe that there was hardly any headroom. But inside the hall, the ceiling of patched barkcloth was high. In one corner, embers smoldered. Kintu sat adjacent to the door, saluting guests as they arrived. Men who had arrived on time sat leaning against the walls. Governors sat close to Kintu. The women were in the guesthouse packing gifts for the bride’s family. The rest of the villagers were in the tent making merry.

  When Baale entered, the men clapped and cheered. He was adorned, on top of his cloth, with a black-and-white rhesus monkey fleece. On his upper arms, bands of bright, multicolored beads enhanced his biceps. His head was shaved except for the large crowning braid near his forehead, like all Ganda men. But Baale’s braid, because he had been growing it for a long time, fell down the side of his face to below his cheek. The pampered glow he had acquired in Mazzi’s service had not worn off yet. Kintu gave Baale a basket of smoked coffee beans to pass around among the men in welcome. As every man chewed on the coffee beans to reaffirm their brotherhood, Gitta leaned over to Kintu and asked, “Have we started pampering grooms for the wedding day? What’s the world coming to?”

  “It’s not pampering—juices of anticipation have washed over him.”

  At that moment, women brought baskets of roast goat and jugs of akaliga brew. Nnakato stood at the threshold and called out the homecoming song, Nyini muno mwali? Is the head of the house home? And the men answered, He knows not to discriminate relations, all these children, in this place, they are home. As the song caught on, Nnakato withdrew.

  When they stopped singing, Kintu thanked everyone for coming.

  “Our son Baale wants to join the league of married men. Tomorrow, while his mothers and I will stay here anxious, you will accompany him to get him a wife. However, you will not bring the bride with you: she will be collected two weeks later. Apparently, only paupers combine the dowry day and the wedding these days.”

  “Wasteful,” old men scoffed, while younger men nodded sympathetically.

  “Before we send him into marriage, I’ve invited you tonight to help me enlighten him about manhood and marriage. We and Kiyirika have prepared him for the mundane aspects of life, but there are details to which we cannot get. Tonight, feel free to edify and share your experiences. As his father, I recently asked him if he has been with a woman and he answered: Everyone knows, I have a reputation . . .”

  “Reputation? Did you ask him why only boys have a reputation?”

  “They think that once they’ve pushed a girl upon the bark of a tree and heard her whimper then they know women.”

  Kintu realized that the introduction to the session had been plucked out of his hands. He sat back and let the talk flow spontaneously.

  “Talk about cluelessness—recently we were talking about prowlers in our village when this young man said, that’s why my wife keeps waking me up. Three times this week she has woken me up. I checked outside, but there was nothing. I asked him, how long has your wife been waking you up? Two weeks maybe three, the fool replied.”

  “For three weeks the buffoon has woken up but heard nothing outside his house and still went back to sleep?”

  “I tell you by the time a woman starts ‘hearing things’ it’s been a lot longer.”

  “Don’t misunderstand me, young men, I am not saying don’t check. There could be a prowler. Listen with her, you hear nothing, go close to the door and listen again. You hear nothing, come back to bed, ask: Have prowlers disturbed your sleep, my good one? Yes, she says. Then you give her something to put her to sleep.”

  “Baale, women don’t ask for sex but it doesn’t mean they don’t want it. There will be times when you touch Ntongo and she yields. There will be times when she will pretend to be asleep, or kick you outright. Then there will be times when she will be restless. If you’re the clueless type, she might burst into tears for no reason or become quarrelsome. I say to young men, watch the turning of the moon. Every woman has a pattern.”

  “Until you marry a second and a third and can’t keep up with the patterns.”

  “Baale, if Ntongo makes you happy, why bring a second wife?”

  “My father told me to watch my back if my two wives get on too well.”

  “When they turn against you—”

  “Then don’t cross them. My two wives live together in the same house. There is no boundary between the children. One has breastfed the other’s children when she’s unwell or has traveled. But of course when you fall out with them, you want to run out of your own house. But I am not about to marry a third because I am frightened of them. My children are happy and that is what matters.”

  “Three women living in the sa
me house turning against you: there’s a frightening prospect.”

  “Don’t put women in the same house.”

  “And separate my children? Allow my sons to grow up under a woman’s influence?”

  “You hear them, Baale? They can’t even agree. As I said before, if one woman makes you happy—”

  “A young couple I know suffered the ‘restless’ problem,” someone interrupted. “However, it manifested differently. The woman hit the children.”

  “She did what?”

  “One word to a child and the next was a blow. All of a sudden, the children had their father’s ugly head and his vacant eyes. One time, she told a child to fetch something but before he stood up, she accompanied the request with a blow. I said: Woman, stand up, but before she stood up, I hit the ground so hard she jumped. I said, I am not your husband, but hit a child again and I’ll give you something else to hit. She burst into tears.”

  “Ahaa!”

  “I asked: What is it? She whispered: Nothing. I said: Something is, but she just wept. I took the husband aside and asked: When was the last time you touched her? He started: You see, I’ve been clearing a virgin land. You see, the rains are coming. You see, I need to start planting . . . I said, Shut up. I see your home crumbling. Can virgin land cheat on you? Now go in there and fuck the steam out of her. I took the children with me and handed them over to my wife. I told the husband to collect them the following day. When I saw the woman next, she whispered, Thanks for your words—they were good.”

  “Imagine if he had three women and virgin land to clear!”

  “I look at young men these days and shake my head. He’s just married his first wife but before she’s even pregnant, he’s looking for a new one. You ask, how do they manage two young women?”

  “Half their children belong to the village.”

  “I’ll share a secret with you, Baale,” whispered Kintunzi of Gomba. “Most marital disputes brought to us, the bottom line is sexual.”

  “True,” agreed Kayima of Mawokota. “A sexually satisfied woman is a good wife, that’s all I am saying.”