It was the month of July. In Limuru, July always comes with cold, fog, and a quiet kind of sadness. The fog would cover the land early in the morning and stay until late. The weather was so cold that children preferred to stay rugito-ini, close to the mud houses. Mud houses were warm, and their walls held heat like a mother holding a child. That is where we felt safe. On that day, I was sitting rugito-ini at my grandmother’s house, enjoying the little warmth the house offered.
Inside the house, my grandmother was talking to my aunt. My aunt had arrived that very morning. From the moment she entered the house, I could tell she was angry. Her words came out fast and without rest, as if she had been holding them in for a long time. Even though I was outside, I could hear her voice clearly. I was not supposed to listen, but children hear even when they are not invited.
Then I heard my grandmother ask a question that changed the mood of the house. She asked calmly, “Is he eating?” My aunt answered quickly, “Not in the last two weeks.” My grandmother became serious. She told my aunt that the matter was very serious and that she should have spoken about it within three days. She wondered how she would handle it now that so much time had passed. After those words, the house became very quiet. No one spoke again for a long time.
That evening, my grandmother sent me to my uncle’s house. She told me to ask him to come to her house the following morning. When I reached my uncle’s place, I found him in a good mood. He laughed, welcomed me, and told me to stay the night. Supper was prepared by Kabura, his eldest daughter. We ate well, and the food was enough. That night, as I lay on the bed, I kept thinking about the words I had heard earlier. I wondered who it was that had not been eating for two weeks.
Later, I came to understand the truth. My grandmother was not talking about food. She was talking about marriage and responsibility. The “food” she was asking about was my aunt herself. She was asking whether her husband was fulfilling his duty to her. My aunt had been neglected, and her pain had brought her back to her mother’s house.
Now, as a storyteller, I turn to you, just as elders do when a story is about to end. I ask you a question that carries more than one meaning, "Have you been eating, or have you been eaten?" It is almost valentine day and some people are avoiding eating now to be with the people they love. They know eating can thwart their plans.
Inside the house, my grandmother was talking to my aunt. My aunt had arrived that very morning. From the moment she entered the house, I could tell she was angry. Her words came out fast and without rest, as if she had been holding them in for a long time. Even though I was outside, I could hear her voice clearly. I was not supposed to listen, but children hear even when they are not invited.
Then I heard my grandmother ask a question that changed the mood of the house. She asked calmly, “Is he eating?” My aunt answered quickly, “Not in the last two weeks.” My grandmother became serious. She told my aunt that the matter was very serious and that she should have spoken about it within three days. She wondered how she would handle it now that so much time had passed. After those words, the house became very quiet. No one spoke again for a long time.
That evening, my grandmother sent me to my uncle’s house. She told me to ask him to come to her house the following morning. When I reached my uncle’s place, I found him in a good mood. He laughed, welcomed me, and told me to stay the night. Supper was prepared by Kabura, his eldest daughter. We ate well, and the food was enough. That night, as I lay on the bed, I kept thinking about the words I had heard earlier. I wondered who it was that had not been eating for two weeks.
Later, I came to understand the truth. My grandmother was not talking about food. She was talking about marriage and responsibility. The “food” she was asking about was my aunt herself. She was asking whether her husband was fulfilling his duty to her. My aunt had been neglected, and her pain had brought her back to her mother’s house.
Now, as a storyteller, I turn to you, just as elders do when a story is about to end. I ask you a question that carries more than one meaning, "Have you been eating, or have you been eaten?" It is almost valentine day and some people are avoiding eating now to be with the people they love. They know eating can thwart their plans.
