How my great grandmother's tragic story drove me into politics

 Freedom fighter Achieng Oneko. [File, Standard]

In his Biography "The Price of Freedom," by Barrack Muluka, freedom fighter Achieng Oneko narrates how the kidnapping of his great-grandmother Muche Nyauchi, in Lake Victoria by pirates became a turning point for his family.

My great grandfather Osewe was one of Ochar’s children who settled in what is today known as the Land of Ochar Raduodi. Osewe married Atieno and Okaya Nyoyugi. Atieno Nyar Kawabwai was Osewe’s mother. Osewe also married Abonyo Nyowila, Nyamdwaji, and Muche Nyajemo, making him husband of four wives in our traditionally polygamous Luo community. Muche Nyajemo had two children, Robi and Nyauchi, my grandfather. It was Muche’s tragic story that drove me into politics in later years.

I do not remember when it was that I first heard this shocking narrative about my great grandmother. But I know, for sure, that it was repeatedly told at the evening fireplace, around which we always gathered to bid farewell to the ending day. It was here that I first heard my father and his brothers referring to the abduction of their grandmother, Muche Nyajemo, who was the last “Nyachira”

— wife of my elderly grandfather, Osewe. The story came up frequently, but only when there were no strangers or distant relatives about the place. It was commonly retold in relation to the life of hardship that followed thereafter for the three brothers in the collective early years of their life.

Muche’s abduction took place during a return journey to present-day Nyanza after attending a distant relative’s funeral.

They were travelling back by boat on Lake Victoria. As the vessel approached the beach, strange light-skinned marauders suddenly pounced on them. They seemed to spring from nowhere, like the seasoned sea dogs they must have been. They attacked the unsophisticated canoe travellers, most of whom were women. They

had a special liking for Muche, who was immediately forced out of her canoe and into the sea dogs’ boat. The news immediately spread onto the shore. My rattled great grandfather offered to make a deal with the pirates. He would give them his two daughters for his

wife, Muche. But the offer was not accepted. That was the end of the bitter story and experience, which also went on to accelerate the death of my great grandfather, Osewe.

The abduction of Muche and Osewe’s subsequent death· were two tragic and painful happenings that drew the three brothers

together in the common bond of suffering and fidelity to each other. They would often recall that age almost as if these things had only happened the other day. I came to learn of how they often went hungry and suffered many indignities at the mercy of their stepmother, Abonyo. Finally, as would often be the lot of many an orphan, they had no choice but to fend for themselves.

They learned how to raise animals and to work many long and hard hours in the fields to raise crops. They did all the odd jobs in the family homestead, such as herding cattle, goats and sheep. The future looked bleak. The lake intruders left behind anguish for the three young orphans who later lived in their home alone, with their mother languishing away in unknown lands as a captive.

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The heart-breaking capture of Muche left a sombre trail of suspicion in the family and the village. Fear and panic gripped the community at large. The most defining element of this fear was that of the prospect of sailing across the Winam gulf, on no-matter the mission. In the short term, the incident brought to an abrupt end the building of canoes in the family. There was also rampant fear of strangers and people who came from faraway places. Intermarriage with persons whose family backgrounds were not well-known became rarer.

The Osewe family was dejected. The family had had their experience in wars where warriors died when two sides confronted each other to fight it out. They had suffered hunger, famine and disease, but nothing like this had ever happened before. They had never been accosted by strange, warlike sea-goers in boats that were larger than theirs. These seagulls were lords of plunder who selected and forcibly took away women. It was painful for a Luo man to see his wife being snatched away from him. Our people would fight to death to repossess the woman in defence of everyone’s dignity – the woman, the man, and the community.

Yet, this particular happening was different. It took place on water. The invaders were sea dogs who were well equipped and who prepared to fight off any repellents while still in their boats. The canoe carrying Muche was mostly filled with women returning

from a funeral. When Osewe’s offer of his two daughters was rejected, he started to row away with his companions. My great

grandfather yelled as he rowed his boat across the water to the Uyoma hills as an expression of the pain in his heart. He lowered his head in grief, tears rolling down his cheeks. He was heartbroken.

The owner of all Adola Valley, Kunya shoreline and peninsula, Son Mar Geno Maber, was defeated in a battle that never was.

From the day our great grandmother was abducted, the family began to sink into poverty. Though my grandfather claimed a big chunk of land, which is today known as Kunya K’Osewe, the old man had his brothers and relatives to consider, too. The Luo originally acquired land by laying claim to it after winning battles and wars. Thereafter, family ownership was determined by someone’s capacity to use it through how much of it they could cultivate. Here, the woman’s labour and that of her children was crucial. A woman who did not cultivate land had no place in this society. She could be easily neglected, or even returned to her maiden family! The reason was always that, in the long run, she would have nothing to leave behind to her grandchildren. She may be lucky to have children who in the future will have no claim to land ownership just because their mother failed the test of claiming its ownership. Marriage among the Luo, accordingly, had related multiple roles. It was essential as a source of access to property, family security and social stability. A man was barred from participation in delicate community matters if he was not married.

The abduction of my great grandmother left a vacuum that no other woman could fill. Other wives in the family may provide food to her children, but without the essential comfort and love from the mother. Osewe was quick to realise what his two sons were missing. He made up for this by intentional closeness to the boys. He shared his meals with them and spent as much time as he possibly could with them. Yet, Robi and Nyauchi still grew up in hardship. Their predicament got even more pronounced after their father passed away, leaving them to the unknown whims of fate.

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Later in life, Robi K’Osewe married a girl named Odembo. They got two sons and a daughter. One of the boys, Nyauchi, would become my grandfather. This was after he married Opeth from Sakwa. They got my father, and my aunt Ombi. The three boys grew up in the village, sharing meals, recalling the past: from the early nineteenth century up to 1936 under the leadership of Nyawanga, their elder uncle. Nyawanga was small in body. His diminutive stature stood out among the Luo, who have been known to be a tall, dark people. He resembled his mother Ramogo, reputed to be a cruel, small woman. It was said that she was a terror to her husband and the people around her in her first marriage. That was how the marriage collapsed. My uncle was the lucky man who settled down with her in a stable marriage.

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Nyawanga was a born leader. He was a regal individual, a no-nonsense man of action and very few words. He was extremely proud and honest to a fault. Once, when the family had a land 15 case before the tribunal, he had been coached on how to present his evidence so that he could win the case. He surprised his side when he discarded the coached narrative. He stuck to his original account, and still won the case anyway. People referred to him as

Ruoth (the king), because his regalia was kingly. He wore the robes of royalty, made from ostrich eggshell and feathers. On special occasions, he would adorn his body with leopard skin attire, with wild boar’s teeth strapped to his left shoulder. He wore thin sandals

on his feet and amulets of hippo teeth on both upper arms.

If he should be attending a major ceremony in a distant place, he would have his junior wife, Adongo Nyonyango, carefully fold and ferry for him his attire in a large basket. On such occasions, he would carry a small drum, which he might beat to announce his arrival. Close to his destination, he would dust his feet and adorn his body with the regal attire, piece by piece, an exercise which took no less than an hour. His arrival, even on visits to relatives – and which were few – drew huge attention. Crowds would gather in eagerness to catch a glimpse of him.

On one occasion, he faced a challenge from a peer who had only heard mention of him but had never met him. The peer expressed surprise when he came face to face with the famous Nyawanga.

He had previously had the impression that Nyawanga was a huge man, tall and massively built. Nyawanga took one look at the fellow and invited him to his home, with at least 20 dignitaries!

After accepting the invitation, the two men shook hands, thereby agreeing on the date of the visit.

The challenger, who was also a relatively well-known personality, arrived on the appointed date with his team. After the usual formalities to welcome the visitors, the guests were requested, as was the custom, to view the bulls, he-goats and lambs that would be slaughtered for them. Drinks followed. There was music and dancing to entertain the guests. Nyawanga had not spared any effort to ensure that everything needed for such an occasion was on full display.

The following day, Onyango, the challenger, expressed his gratitude for the way in which they had been received, ending with the usual reciprocal invitation to his homestead. In his acceptance of the reciprocal visit, Nyawanga enigmatically said, “It is good you made it. That was Nyawanga the King.” When the reciprocal visit was made, however, the two men struck a friendship which later developed into a strong relationship, and Nyawanga accepted to marry Onyango’s daughter, Adogo, as his third wife. Adogo’s house is now the mainstay of the famous Nyawanga’s family.

Although Nyandwa Robi was not a man of glamour, he was daring. On several occasions, he would take the cattle to the lake to water them. He would lead them deep into the lake, until the water reached his waist. It was well known that the lake was generally infested with crocodiles, but he would stay put in defence of our cattle. He was so fond of his animals that one day, as I accompanied him to the pasture, he told me that when the number of sheep and goats grows, you must slaughter one in sacrifice to the dead so that they can keep watch over the rest. He was unlike my father and first uncle who were not keen on traditional beliefs. He lived and died having married only one wife.