Bridal Red

 Dear Reader,

The Kikuyu people originated from the northeastern Bantu groups who migrated to the Mount Kenya region of modern Kenya, likely from the further north.  While the exact point of origin is uncertain, archaeological evidence suggest their arrival in the Mount Kenya area was around the 3rd century. 

According to traditional Kikuyu beliefs, their people were created by a man called Gikuyu and his wife Mumbi, who were given land by the creator, Ngai, on Mount Kenya.

It is believed that Ngai created and put the first man (Gikuyu) and a woman (Mumbi) on earth.  Traditionally the Kikuyu trace their origin to this couple.

The Kikuyu people fought violently against the British during the Mau Mau uprising from 1952 to 1960. Thousands of people were killed, but the rebellion led to Kikuyu's independence in 1962.  In 1963 Kenya became an independent nation.

The Kikuyu's tribe's traditional wedding ceremony involves the whole community. Woman organize the food while the men organize financial matters.  The man is considered responsible for his bride's dress and the bride is free to choose her bride's maids.

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I wrote today's poem after seeing a documentary of the event.  The Kikuyu girl being taken off to be married to a faraway tribesman, over the mountains.  Apparently after a few weeks in her new home she commited suicide.  I often think about this girl, she was only about 14 years old.

 

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From George Sturt   November 21st  1890  in Surrey

I noticed in the poplar above me two sorts of sound; the leaves pattering and rustling against one another, each with its separate chatter; and then as accompaniment and continuous ground-tone, the wind itself breathing audibly and caressingly between leave and round twigs and limbs.'

 

From Gilbert White   November 26th   1775 in Hampshire

' A very dark season: dark within doors a little after 3 o'clock in the afternoon.'

'Monthly roses now in bloom.'

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Bridal Red

 

 

I saw

a young girl smiling,

laughing, threading beads, minding goats

holding hands with sisters, friends,

chattering, gossiping, rough and tumbling

in bright sunlight.

 

I saw

scrub-plains,

blue mountains,  straw huts,

men on haunches, and thin dogs, fat babies,

loving families, happiness.

 

I saw

men, suddenly, appear from a distant village,

offering cows and sheep as an exchange

for a shepherd in need of a wife.

The girl was chosen,

a bargain was struck

 

I saw

her stand silently, acquiescent,

red ochre paste and mud

plastered on her shaven head,

necklaces of golden wire

wound tightly round her neck,

ankle bracelets in profusion.

 

I saw

her sisters, her friends, not laughing now,

offering presents,

a carved stick,  a beaded purse.

At dawn she would leave as the sun rose,

to walk over the mountain pass

to an unknown bridegroom,

an unknown life.

 

I saw

as she left 

her tears trickling,

then flooding through the paste and mud.

I saw her sorrow as the colour red,

a crown of thorns her maidenhead.

 

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With very best wishes, Patricia