In Gitithia village, the pioneers once stood tall, their hands rough-skinned and with blisters from years of hard work, their backs bent from tilling the land that sustained them. These were the men and women who had faced poverty head-on, determined to break the chains that had bound the village. They knew that the only way out of the darkness that poverty brought was through unrelenting toil. “Gutiri wanyu ukoima na thome,” they would say, reminding their children that no one will ever help them.
From the earliest age, the children of Gitithia pioneers were taught the value of hard work. Boys were sent to the fields to plant and harvest crops, to rear cattle and ensure that the livestock thrived. Girls were taught to manage the household, to fetch water, and to help with the family’s small enterprises. When some children managed to secure jobs with the government or in private entities, their parents would sternly remind them, “Tia wira” - respect work. It was a mantra that echoed through the generations.
These sons and daughters became known as the hardest-working generation the village had ever seen. The parents were honest, their words sharp and to the point. A lazy son was told plainly, “Kwaga mburi ni kwaga muka”—if you do not have the goats, you’ll not get a wife. Daughters who shied away from work were bluntly asked, “Ukahika ku gutarutagwo wira?”—where will you get married if you cannot work?
But somewhere along the way, the path that had been so clearly marked by the sweat and determination of Gitithia’s pioneers was lost. It didn’t happen in a single day, nor even a single year. It was a slow, creeping change that seemed to go unnoticed until it had taken root deep within the village.
The once proud and industrious villagers became a community of beggars. They no longer sought to earn their keep through hard work; instead, they began to beg from those they knew and from strangers alike. They despised the toil that had once been their salvation, preferring instead to wait—wait for help that was always just out of reach.
They waited for their old parents to provide, even as those parents grew frail. They waited for their relatives and siblings, for other villagers who were themselves caught in the same web of waiting. They waited for the government, for friends, for anyone who might relieve them of the burden of work. The waiting business became the new way of life in Gitithia, and the village that had once been known for its hard-working people became a village of waitpersons.
The elders who remained in the village watched this transformation with heavy hearts. They were the last link to the pioneers, the ones who had lived through the years of struggle and had seen the fruits of hard work. They were determined to reverse this curse that had fallen upon their deaf children, grandchildren, and great-grandchildren. But their voices, once strong and commanding, had grown weak, barely heard above the din of complacency that now filled the village.
The remnant elders knew that something drastic needed to be done, but they were unsure how to make their voices heard again. They thought of calling athuri a miano to perform a ritual that had not been done in the village many years. They would summon the spirits of the pioneers from their graves, just as Samuel had been summoned from the dead in the Bible, to address the issue of hard work with the current generation. Perhaps, they thought, if the pioneers themselves could speak to their descendants, the village might once again find its way back to the path of hard work and self-reliance. Perhaps the voices from the grave would be enough to awaken the spirit of hard work in Gitithia that had been lost to time. Only time would tell if the pioneers’ call would be answered, and if Gitithia would once again become the village that valued hard work above all else.
From the earliest age, the children of Gitithia pioneers were taught the value of hard work. Boys were sent to the fields to plant and harvest crops, to rear cattle and ensure that the livestock thrived. Girls were taught to manage the household, to fetch water, and to help with the family’s small enterprises. When some children managed to secure jobs with the government or in private entities, their parents would sternly remind them, “Tia wira” - respect work. It was a mantra that echoed through the generations.
These sons and daughters became known as the hardest-working generation the village had ever seen. The parents were honest, their words sharp and to the point. A lazy son was told plainly, “Kwaga mburi ni kwaga muka”—if you do not have the goats, you’ll not get a wife. Daughters who shied away from work were bluntly asked, “Ukahika ku gutarutagwo wira?”—where will you get married if you cannot work?
But somewhere along the way, the path that had been so clearly marked by the sweat and determination of Gitithia’s pioneers was lost. It didn’t happen in a single day, nor even a single year. It was a slow, creeping change that seemed to go unnoticed until it had taken root deep within the village.
The once proud and industrious villagers became a community of beggars. They no longer sought to earn their keep through hard work; instead, they began to beg from those they knew and from strangers alike. They despised the toil that had once been their salvation, preferring instead to wait—wait for help that was always just out of reach.
They waited for their old parents to provide, even as those parents grew frail. They waited for their relatives and siblings, for other villagers who were themselves caught in the same web of waiting. They waited for the government, for friends, for anyone who might relieve them of the burden of work. The waiting business became the new way of life in Gitithia, and the village that had once been known for its hard-working people became a village of waitpersons.
The elders who remained in the village watched this transformation with heavy hearts. They were the last link to the pioneers, the ones who had lived through the years of struggle and had seen the fruits of hard work. They were determined to reverse this curse that had fallen upon their deaf children, grandchildren, and great-grandchildren. But their voices, once strong and commanding, had grown weak, barely heard above the din of complacency that now filled the village.
The remnant elders knew that something drastic needed to be done, but they were unsure how to make their voices heard again. They thought of calling athuri a miano to perform a ritual that had not been done in the village many years. They would summon the spirits of the pioneers from their graves, just as Samuel had been summoned from the dead in the Bible, to address the issue of hard work with the current generation. Perhaps, they thought, if the pioneers themselves could speak to their descendants, the village might once again find its way back to the path of hard work and self-reliance. Perhaps the voices from the grave would be enough to awaken the spirit of hard work in Gitithia that had been lost to time. Only time would tell if the pioneers’ call would be answered, and if Gitithia would once again become the village that valued hard work above all else.
