THEY LIVED, ONCE UPON A TIME!

To tell their stories, individual biographies would be ideal. They made important contributions to the village economy. But, due to time and  the fact that no one can give adequate and in-depth details about their diverse social and other aspects of their well-lived lives today,  a mere glimpse in their role  as observed in my childhood might remind  compatriots of where we are coming from;  and jerk our dormant conscious  of how much we have neglected  our tourism package which is still covered in dust in the  archives.

It will also serve to remind all the born-frees that there was life before us, which was enjoyed just as much.

Hunter. Blacksmith. Carver. Tanner. Potter. Brewer. Weaver.  And other artists.

Armateur Knives & Cooking Sticks from an urban market- Pic by Vincent Mwanda

These are some of the unsung contemporary ‘industrialists’ and artists who contributed immensely to the village economy and made their habitats self-contained. Each one of them was special in their own right. Yes, they lived, too, once upon a time!

Until, of course, after the arrival of Germany-made Okapi, the local blacksmith’s wrought knife was the major cutting tool of the village. Before that colonial pick brought by a Missionary, they created all sizes of quality home-made axes and hoes.

The Carver complemented the skills of his colleague by carving handles of all sizes with marked precision. His mbaso, the versatile adze, was used aptly to bring into existence novel finished products, many of which you might think were done by a modern plane.

The Hunter provided the needed skin which the Tanner turned into useful material while potters worked on the much-needed ‘refrigerators.’  Brewers ensured that the other side of life, entertainment, was adequately cared for. Everyone had an important role to play to make work and life NORMAL and enjoyable.

I recall some of these works and leisure.

It started with a Hunter who was likely a conversant Tanner as well. He supplied the blacksmith with animal skin from which muuba, bellows, were made. He also catered for the stool and drum makers.  Tanned animal skin was also used by many as a mattress even after the modern cushion had arrived.

Our blacksmith built his coveted smithy, a forge that operated from six to six, under a huge Mushikishi tree. He then stitched a special air blowing tool, the bellow which looked exactly like a pair of shorts; and was used to gulp and blow air into the forge thereby keeping the charcoal-filled furnace alive every minute.  Several pieces of steel would be put into the forge until they heated to red hot, a state that made them malleable into any form. Other tools used were a rail off-cut that was used as an anvil and a sledgehammer, or small hammers to beat the steel into required shape and size of whatever he intended to make.

If the blacksmith did not know how to carve handles, he would seek the services of a Carver who would do it for him. This man also possessed special skills. From identifying right trees which would make ideal handles that did not crack or bend after some time, to carving and gliding acceptable shapes and sizes to fit what his counterpart had made. He could also, sometimes, engrave these handles in different ways to demonstrate rare mastery in artistry.

As children, we would go spend time working the bellows and earn a knife for your parents, or if you do it for a few days, an axe or a hoe blade. Sometimes you did it to own a knife to use for eating mangos (a symbol of sophistication among peers), or as a precious souvenir.

These rewards were phenomenal. Your guardians, who couldn’t afford to buy such items for cash would praise you and give you special treatment at home. Also, just the feat of knowing how to work muuba was an achievement. (Every child wants to experience the feeling of adults by imitating them, right?)

I remember working at one forge someday where Mr. Blacksmith and Mr. Carver were secretly drinking Katubi (a local beer made from millet and drank  through a straw) from a hidden small calabash while they worked. You could tell from their jovial, incessant conversation that though they were enjoying their craft, something else was exciting them too. I never understood why they kept asking me to keep a pot of boiling water near the forge until I discovered the small calabash full of beer, which is kept potent by adding hot water. (When both walked away to pick something or answer the call of nature, I grabbed the straw and…)

I then understood why they worked from early morning till sunset without ever going on leave. What was surprising, too, was that despite drinking while working, they had neither accidents nor defective products. Theirs were of the same unquestionable high quality!

Speaking of entertainment, there are many good things my village has abandoned, to conform to what they think is acceptable and modern. You see, after many of these craftsmen had had their time with work, they used to enjoy wholesome entertainment. For example, a number of Brewers, who could be the best at brewing good beer, would come together, set a special day and fence-off a particular place as a venue for a special occasion, SANDAUNI (Sundown), to sell their specially brewed Kataata (another local beer served from cups.) They would hire the local band to play rich, local Kalindula music, admirable waitresses and one special person, MR. SPEAKER! Then, almost all villagers, but for the old, sick and dogs, would trek to this exciting, occasional come-together event.

Special and most memorable features of any eventful Sandauni were the tactics of this experienced, masterful comedian termed Speaker; through whom you bought, made an announcement, picked on a dancing partner or selected a song you wanted played.  

For example, if you fancied some beautiful woman (which, by the way, included waitresses) and wanted to dance with her, you shouted for the Speaker, explained your wish and paid for the beer. The Speaker would then blow the whistle, hard, to attract everyone’s attention, and in a comic way prop up your eminence, announce your haughty orders, according to how much you paid. Everybody did speak or acted through the speaker and respected his orders! (Who knows may be parliaments copied from us!)

Usually, the latest announcement was aimed at outdoing the earlier in all respects, especially in terms of expense and pomp. It’s this stage-managed competition between merrymakers that enabled brewers to sell huge quantities of beer and maximize their profits.

Sales of other merchandise flourished too. Some sold their artifacts like mats, clay pots, specially cooked food such as rice, fritters, etc.  Did I mention that policing was also arranged through some powerful, tested and experienced no-nonsense giant bouncers with brawny arms? That was my village then! Self-sufficient indeed!

As I remember some of these innovative musketeers, I yearn for a time when we will get to sell some of what they did as our added package to wildlife tourism so our visitors can get to know us better. Not just a wish!