Niimbie, Myuzi1, kuhusu huyu shujaa ndumilakuwili
aliyepotezwa safarini, tena na tena, baada ya kupora jiji maarufu Troi.
Miji mingi kaitembelea na desturi zake kazijua;
Machungu mengi kayahisi; na maumivu ya roho kumpata baharini
Akijaribu kurudisha jeshi lake nyumbani; ila nguvu zake hazingemsaidia
kwa kuwa wengi walijiangamiza kwa upumbavu wao wa kula mifugo ya mungu wa jua
Apollo; naye akiwakataza kurudi nyumbani. Nisumulie haya yote, myuzi, binti wa Zusi2, na uanze popote uwezavyo.

Wale walioepuka kifo vitani ama baharini walirudi nyumbani bali Odissio; mwenye roho yake ilimdata bibi na nchi yake, alishikwa mateka na mwanamwali3 mwashiki Kalipso aliyemficha kwenye pango lake na kutamani kumfanya bwana. Lakini baada ya miaka na mikaka, miungu waliona heri arudi nyumbani, kule Ithaka —ila hata huko majaribio bado hayangeisha; na miungu wote wakamhurumia isipokuwa Poseido, ambaye alizidi kumwangamiza Odissio bila kuchoka hadi aliporudi nyumbani.

Naye Poseido alikwenda kuwatembelea Waethiopia, walioishi huko mwisho wa dunia katika nchi iliyogawanywa mara mbili, upande mmoja wa mashariki na mwingine wa magharibi. Huko, alipokea sadaka za fahali na kondoo kwa mamia — huko kwenye mlo alipungia burudani. Lakini wale miungu wengine, kwenye kumbi za Zusi, walikongamana, na Zusi, baba ya binadamu wote akawa wa kwanza kuzungumza, akiwa amesumbuka akimkumbuka mtanashati Aegesto4 , aliyeuliwa na mwana wa Agamemno, Oreste. Akimkumbuka Aegesto, Zusi aliwakemea: “Upujufu huu wote— vile hawa watu huwalaumu miungu. Wananena kwamba sisi ndio asili ya shida zao zote, lakini wao wenyewe, na mazoefu yao mapotovu, hujizidishia shida kuliko kiwango kinachofaa. Ebu mwangalieni Aegesto hivi sasa, juu ya shida zake, akaongeza kumwiba bibiye Agamemno, kisha akamuua huyo mwanajeshi alivyorudi nyumbani na Aegesto akajua kweli amejikaribishia kifo. Sisi miungu tulimwonya , na tukamtuma Herme muua-pandikizi kufikisha ujumbe. ‘usimuue huyo mtu na usimtongoze bibi yake. Onyeka kwamba Oreste,mwanawe, atalipiza kisasi siku atakaye kuwa mzima na kutamani taifa lake.’ Hivo ndivo Herme alimwonya kwa rehema lakini Aegesto alizidi kukaza roho, na sasa anaangamia.”

Naye Athena, mwenye macho ya kumetameta, akamjibu Zusi: “Baba, mwana wa Krono, mfalme wetu mkuu, kweli amejipeleka kwenye kifo alichojitafutia na akastahili"! Wacha wote wafe, hao wanaofanya mambo kama haya. Lakini moyo wangu unamlilia Odissio, huyo mwanajeshi mtaalamu aliyelaaniwa— mbali na wanaompenda, na anateseka huko kwenye kisiwa kilicho kati ya bahari, kilichojaa vichaka, pahali mwanamwali mmoja anaishi, binti wa Atlasi, huyo pandikizi mwenye anajua kina ya bahari, mwenye anashikilia nguzo zinazogawanyisha ardhi na mbingu. Huyo binti wa Atlasi ndiye amemteka Odissio, mwanamume aliyehuzunika—hata na chozi lake, Kalipso bado anajaribu kumchumbia na maneno ya kiashiki ndio ayasahau mambo ya Ithaka. Lakini yeye, anachokitamani ni kuona moshi ukipaa toka nchi yake tu. Odissio anatamani kufa. Mwanaolimpia Zusi, kwani haumhurumii? Hakuwahi kufurahisha na toleo za sadaka zilizochomwa kando ya meli huko kwenye nchi kavu ya Troi? Mbona msimamo wako ni dhidi ya Odissio?”

Zusi mwenye nguvu za kukusanya mawingu akamjibu: “Mwanangu, maneno ya kushangaza yanakutoka. Nawezaje kumsahau huyo mwanaume wa kifalme, Odissio? Hakuna binadamu mwenye nusu hekima zake; hakuna mwingine mwenye alitolea miungu sadaka kumliko. Ni yule mtingiza-ardhi, Poseido, amemkasirikia kwa kuwa alimdunga zimwi wa mazimwi, Polifemo, jicho na kumfanya kipofu. Nani kamzaa huyu pandikizi? Thusa, mwana wa Forki, mfalme mmoja wa bahari—akakutana na Poseido kwenye pango na kushiriki mapenzini. Na sasa kwa kuwa Odissio alimfanya mwana wa mungu huyu wa kutetemesha ardhi kipofu, Poseido hatamuua ila atazidi kumpoteza mbali na nchi yake. Njooni tuwaze vile Odissio tutamrudisha nyumbani. Ninaamini Poseido ataacha kumkasirikia. Ni vipi anaweza kusimama dhidi ya hiari yetu sote—mungu mmoja?”

Athena akimetameta macho akanena: “Mtukufu, baba yetu sote, kama sasa inapendeza miungu wote Odissio mwenye rehema kurudi nyumbani, wacha tumtume muua-pandikizi Herme huko kisiwa cha Ogigia, ili amtangazie mwanamwatu mwenye misuko mirembo na amwachilie Odissio arudi! Nami wacha niende Ithaka nimchochee mwanawe ndio apate ujasiri wa kuwakusanya Waakia wenye nywele nyepesi, na awaonye hao wachumba ambao wanachinja mifugo yake. Kisha nitamtuma Sparta na Pilosi, ndio apate ujumbe wa safari ya kurudi kwa babake. Huenda atasikia fununu na kufanya jina lake lijulikane duniani mzima.”

Akajiinamisha ndio akaze ndari zake za kitajiri, zinazometameta dhahabu, zinazombeba juu ya bahari na ardhi isiyoisha juu ya bawa la upepo, na akaukamata mpini wa mkuki—mkuki uliochongwa na shaba nyeusi, wenye huyu mwana wa nguvu angetumia kutimua foleni za wapiganaji vitani. Na akashuka toka kilele cha Olimpia na kuenda Ithaka, akasimama wima kwenye lango la Odissio, kizingiti cha bustani. Akishikilia mkuki wake wa shaba nyeusi, akajigeuza Mente, mfalme wa Watafi5. Hapo alikutana na wachumba wajeuri, wakijiburudisha na mchezo wa kamare, wakikalia ngozi za mafahali wenye wao walichinja. Watumishi na wafanyakazi wakiwazunguka, nao wakizimua maji na mvinyo, wengine wakipanguza meza na sponji, ambazo zingewekwa kwenye ukumbi na kuchinja mizoga ya wanyama ndio ichomwe.

Aliyekuwa wa kwanza kumwona ni mwanamfalme Telemako, aliyekaa baina ya wachumba akimezwa na jonzi. Alikuwa katika hali ya ndoto za mchana—babake angali hapa, kama ameanguka toka mawingu, angewafurusha hawa wachumba wote na akomboe fahari yake na atawale maeneo yake. Naye akaendelea na ndoto ya mchana, na kumtizama Athena na akaenda hadi kwake akiaibika kwamba mgeni amesimama akizubaa humo nje, na akashika mkono wa kulia wa Athena na kuchukua mkuki mrefu na mkono wa kushoto. Kisha akanena: “Karibu mgeni! Karibu kwenye mlo. Utaniarifu kuhusu unachotamani baadaye.”

Aliongoza njia na Athena akamfuata. Walivyofika kwenye ukumbi wa paa refu, alichukua mkuki wake akauweka kwenye shubaka kando ya nguzo imara, pahali kulikuwa safu nyingi za mikuki, mikuki ya Odissio ilisimama ikimngoja. Kisha akamepeleka kwenye kiti kirefu maarufu, akakivisha nguo na akaweka stuli kwenye miguu yake. Kando yake, akawekelea kiti kifupi, kilichopakwa rangi rangile, mbali na wachumba. Aliwaza kwamba kelele za wachumba zingemwondolea mgeni wake njaa, na akafikiria kwamba mgeni angetaka hali ya faragha ndio aulize kumhusu baba yake, aliyepotea miaka mingi. Mfanyikazi mmoja akaleta maji kwenye jagi ya dhahabu na juu ya besheni ya fedha akamwagilia maji ili wanawe mikono. Kisha akavuta meza uliong’aa upande wao. Mfanyikazi mwingine akawaandalia mikate, viamshahamu kwa wingi. Mwandalizi mwengine akawapa minofu ya nyama ya aina zote, na kando yao akawapa vikombe vya dhahabu, mhudumu mwingine akashinda akimwaga mvinyo vikombeni baada ya muda mchache.

Na sasa wachumba wakaja na kujikusanya humo ndani na wakajikalisha kwenye viti virefu na vifupi. Watumishi wakawanawa mikono na maji, waandalizi wakaleta mikate imepangwa kwenye sinia na vijana hao wakajaza bakuli mvinyo furifuri. Wakaelekeza mikono hadi hivo vitu vizuri , na walivoshiba chakula na mvinyo, wakawaza starehe zingine, kuimba na kupiga densi ambazo ni taji la mlo. Mtumishi mmoja akampa Femo kinubi kirembo, huyo mwimbaji aliyewaimbia humo; wakamlazimisha aimbe. Naye akatangulia kwa nguvu zaidi! Kwa kweli wimbo ulianza.

Kisha Telemako, kichwa karibu na Athena mwenye mwacho ya kumetameta, akamnong’onezea ndio wachumba wasisikie: “Ewe mgeni, utashtuliwa na kile nitakachosema? Waangalie wale. Bila kujali lolote duniani, kuskiza ngoma tu! Rahisi kwao kuja huku na kula mali ya mwengine kisha waondoke—mtu mwenye mifupa yake mieupe imelazwa ikinyeshewa pahali, ikioza pahali ardhini au labda ikizama kwenye bahari iliyojaa chumvi. Lakini huyo mtu angewaona humu nyumbani Ithaka, aki ya Mungu, wangeomba uwezo wa kukimbia kuliko utajiri wa dhahabu na mavazi mazito. Lakini sasa, haina haja, alikufa kifo kisicho heshima. Hapa hatuna starehe, hata kama mtu pahali aseme yuaja. Siku yake ya kurudi haitawahi kufika. Yametosha, niambie kukuhusu kwa taratibu. Wewe ni nani? Umetoka wapi? Jiji lako? Wazazi wako? Meli ya aina gani ilikufikisha humu? Wanamaji walikuleta Ithaka mbona? Walisema wao ni kina nani? Na sioni kama ulikuja huku kwa kutembea, niambie, ni mara yako ya kwanza kuja humu? Ama we ni rafiki ya babangu, rafiki toka siku za kale? Awali, umati wa watu ungetutembelea humu, kwa kuwa hata yeye alikuwa mgeni kwao.”

Kwa haya, Athena akajibu: “Nitakusimilia hadithi hii polepole. Ankialu mwenye hekima alikuwa baba yangu. Jina langu ni Mente, mfalme wa Watafi wanaopenda makasia yao. Na hapa nimekuja pamoja na meli na wanamaji, nikisafiri bahari ya rangi wa mvinyo hadi bandari za kigeni, hadi Temese, nikitafuta shaba, sisi wenyewe tukiwa na chuma ya kuwauzia. Meli yangu imetia nanga mashinani mbali na mji kwenye ghuba ndogo ya Rithroni, chini ya kichaka cha mlima Nioni. Mimi na baba yako tumekuwa marafiki tangu kitambo, hata mfalme Laete anaweza kusema hivo ukimuuliza. Najua yeye huwa hasafiri nje ya mji siku hizi na anaishi maisha magumu ya upweke na mhudumu mmoja mzee anayemhudumia vilivyo, anayemlisha na kumnywesha uchovu ukimshika miguuni baada ya kutamba kwenye shamba lake mlimani. Na sasa nimefika huku na mbona? Nilisikia kwamba baba yako alirudi. Lakini apana, miungu wanamkataza kurudi. Nami nakuambia maarufu Odissio hajafa. Bado yupo uhai, pahali duniani ametekwa nyara pahali baharini kwenye kisiwa, na wanaume wagumu, washenzi wamemkamata dhidi ya kutaka kwake. Ngoja, nitakutabiria kile nilichopachikwa akilini na mungu mmoja, na kitakuja kupita, nadhani. Lakini mimi si nabii wala sijui safari za nyoni. Hatakaa mbali sana toka nchi aliyotokea na kupenda, hata akifungwa nyororo za chuma. Anapanga kurudi, huyo hawezi kupotea. Nawe niambie kujihusu polepole, wewe kweli ni mwana wake Odissio? Umekuwa kweli! Mnafanana kweli, kichwa, macho marembo —namwona sasa. Ah vile tulikuwa tunakutana sana enzi za kale kabla aende Troi, pahali manahodha wengine na wanaume wote bora walisafiri kwenye meli zilizopinda. Tangu hiyo siku sijamwona Odissio na hajaniona.”

Naye kijana Telemako akajibu: “Nitajaribu, rafiki yangu, kukujibu kwa ukweli. Mamangu huniambia mi ni mwana wake na ni ukweli, lakini mi nashuku. Nani, kwa kivyake, anaweza kujua aliyempa maisha? Ningetamani kuwa na mwanaume mwenye furaha kama baba, atakayezeeka ndani ya nyumba yake. Sasa najiona kama mtu asiye bahati kabisa tangu kuzaliwa. Lakini kwa kuwa umeniuliza, nimekujibu, wananiambia mi ni mwana wake.”

Athena mwenye macho ya kijivu akanena: “Niamini, miungu hawajawalaani msahaulike keshoe katika nyumba hii, kwa sababu Penelope alimzaa mwana kama wewe. Lakini niambie kuhusu hili na useme yote. Hizi sherehe, na umati kufanya karamu ni nini? Na wewe unachangia kivipi? Ni mlo wa harusi? Ni sikukuu? Kwa gharama yenu? Ona kiburi cha hawa walafi, wanaofanya wanavyotamani kwenu. Mtu mwenye busara angekasirishwa kuwa miongoni mwao.”

Naye Telemako akajibu: “Rafiki, sasa ju unauliza kuhusu mambo haya, nyumba yetu imeshinda ikiwa ya kifahari, nyumba kuu, kwa sababu yule tunayeongelelea alikuwa hapa. Lakini miungu wametuletea siku mbaya dhidi yetu, na kufanya apotee vile alipotea. Kama kifo chake kingejulikana, singehisi hivi uchungu mwingi — na kama angeangamia kwa sababu ya vidonda huko Troi ama katika mikono ya rafiki yake, baada ya vita. Waakia wangemjengea kaburi nami kama mwana wake ningepata utukufu. Lakini, upepo ulimbeba na hakupata adhama. Ameenda, hamna ishara, wala neno kumhusu; na ninarithi shida na machozi—na si ju yake tu, miungu wameniongezea shida zingine. Sikia, wale wakubwa wanaotawala visiwa humu, Dulikio na Same, na Zakintho chenye vichaka, na wale wanaongoza Ithake yenye mawemawe— wote hadi wa mwisho wanajaribu kumtongoza mama yangu, na wanatufilisi! Na mama halengi uhusiano atakaochukia wala kutimiza kuchumbiana huku wakiendelea kusafisha nyumba kama pamba. Hivi karibuni watanimaliza miye.”

Athena akasumbuka na akanena: “Ah kwa kweli unamhitaji Odissio! Ni muda wake wa kurudi apambane na hawa vinyangarika. Ningependa kumwona amevaa helmeti pale mlangoni, akiwa ameshikilia ngao na mkuki, akifanana vile alifanana nilivyomwona kwanza. Hapo kwa nyumba yangu akinywa na akila baada ya kutoka Efira, akirudi nyumbani baada ya kumtembelea mwana wa Mermeri aitwaye Ilo. Alisafiri na meli yake ya kasi akitafuta sumu kali ya kupaka mishale yake ya shaba. Ilo akakataa akiogopa hasira ya miungu, lakini babangu aliyempenda mno, alimpa. Kama huyo Odissio angeona hawa wachumba, harusi ya damu na kifo cha haraka kingewapata! Lakini kweli yote yapo katika mikono ya miungu. Kama atarudi ama akose kulipiza kilichofanyika humu nyumbani. Lakini wewe, nakusihi uwaze kuhusu vile utawafukuza hawa wachumba kutoka kumbi zenu. Njoo sasa, na utilie maanani nitakayosema. Jua likijichomoza ita viongozi wa kisiwa hiki, na uwatolee amri na uwaite miungu washuhudie: ambia wachumba wachomoke na wote warudi makwao. Na mama yako, roho ikimwambia aoe tena, mwambi arudi kwenye nyumba ya babake mwenye nguvu. Ndugu zake watapanga harusi, wapeane zawadi, zile zinazosafiri na binti apendwaye. Nina ushauri mzuri wako kama utauitikia. Jaza meli na kasia ishirini, zile mzuri zaidi, na usafiri ukimsaka baba yako mpotevu. Huenda mtu akakuambia kitu ama upate fununu toka Zusi mwenyewe, fununu husafirisha habari hadi kwa watu. Kwanza safiri hadi Pilo, umhoji mfalme mkongwe Nesto, kisha usafiri hadi Sparta, kwa Menelo wa nywele nyekundu ambaye alikuwa wa mwisho wa Waakia waliojihami kurudi. Ukisikia kwamba baba yako yuko hai na anarudi nyumbani, hata na mateso yako, jikaze mwaka mmoja. Ukisikia amekufa na hayupo katika dunia ya wanaoishi, basi rudi nyumbani unakopenda na utengeneze kaburi kama kumbukumbu na umfanyie heshima za wafiwa anazostahili na umpe mama yako kwa bwana mwingine. Kisha ukishafunga mambo hayo, waza na ujiangalie rohoni ndani ukitafuta njia ya kuwaua hao wachumba wote walio nyumbani, kwa njia fiche ama vita vya wazi. Lazima usahau ujana na uwe mwanaume kamili. Hukusikia adhama zile mwanamfalme Oreste alipokea duniani vile alimwangamiza huyo muuaji Aegesto mwenye aliua babake maarufu? Nawe rafiki yangu ulivyo mrefu na mtanashati nakuona sasa—kuwa shupavu ndio watu waimbe sifa zako baada ya miaka. Lakini muda wa kurudi kwenye meli yangu umewadia na wanamaji nilio nao wataanza kuteta nikiwakalisha mno. Tilia maanani niliyokuambia.”

Telemako akajibu: “Rafiki, umenifanyia mazuri kama baba kwa mtoto wake, na sitasahau wosia wako kamwe. Lazima urudi baharini, najua, lakini koga kwanza na utulie; itikia zawadi ya kuinua roho ukiondoka safarini—kitu kizuri, kirembo toka kwangu, kumbukumbu kama vile marafiki huwapa marafiki.”

Athena aking’aa macho akanena: “Si sasa hivi. Usiniweke humu. Natamani kuanza safari. Zawadi yangu, chochote utakachonipa kwa uzuri, nihifadhie hadi nitakapokuja, ndio nirudi nayo nyumbani. Chagua kitu adimu lakini kizuri, na mazuri yatakurudia.”

Athena akapeperuka kama nyuni na ahadi hiyo lakini akamwacha na roho iliyojaa ujasiri, kumubukumbu ya babake ikimpa nguvu tena. Hisia zake zikiimarika, na kujazwa na mshangao— alikuwa mungu huyu, na alijua ghafla na akaenda kwa wachumba. Akiwa mwenyewe amejazwa umungu. Kati yao, mwimbaji alizidi kuimba, nao wakiwa wameketi kimua, wamkimskiza akiimba “Safari ya Waakia nyumbani toka Troi,” na shida zote Athena aliwaletea wapambane nazo. Sasa toka juu kwenye chumba chake akiwa amemezwa na mawazo, akaona vile amejikaza. Mwana wa Ikaria, Penelope, akiwa mchovu na mnyamavu, akashuka ngazi na wafanyikazi wanawake wawili. Huyo mwanamke mwangavu alivyofikia wachumba wake, akivisha hijabu yake ndio afiche mashavu, akasimama kando ya nguzo ilishikilia paa, na wafanyikazi wake wakiwa wamesimama kwenye pande zake. Ghafla machozi yakaanza kumtoka na sauti yake kupita ya mwimbaji na kilio “Femo! Nyimbo nyingi unazo za kutufurahisha kuhusu vitendo vya binadamu na miungu vinavyosifiwa. Mbona usiimbe hizo hawa wakiwa wameketi watulivu wakinywa mvinyo. Lakini komesha wimbo huu—wimbo usiosikika na kushinda umeniumiza roho, hofu isiyosahaulika, unaniumiza zaidi! Namtamani bwanangu, yupo hai katika kumbukumbu zangu milele. Huyo mwanamume ambaye anajulikana kote Ugiriki hadi kwenye uketo wa Argo!”

Telemako akajibu: “Mbona,mama, unamkataza mwimbaji wetu mwenye kipaji fursa ya kutuburudisha vile roho inamhimiza? Waimbaji hawana lawama—Zusi ndiye mwenye lawama. Ni yeye huwaangamiza wafanyikazi anavyotamani. Ni hatia gani mwimbaji kuimba kuhusu mwelekeo mwovu wa wanajeshi wa Argo? Ni wimbo uliotokea hivi juzi ndio husisimua maskio ya watu na ndio husifiwa mno. Kaza moyo mama, na usikize. Si Odissio pekee alilelemewa kurudi nyumbani toka Troi. Wengine wengi sana walishindwa kurudi. Kwa hivyo mama, rudi kwenye chumba chako. Na ushughulike na mambo yako ya ufumi na uwashughulishe wanawake wengine kazini. Kama ni kupeana amri, wanaume watashughulika na hayo lakini kumbuka ni mimi ndio nina nguvu hizo kwa nyumba hii.”

Alishangazwa na hekima za mwana wake na akarudi chumbani. Alitilia maanani yaliyosema na akapanda chumbani. Akaanza kumlilia bwana yake mpendwa Odissio hadi Athena aliporudi kumziba macho alale.

Lakini wachumba walianza vurugu na kelele, wote wakitamani kulala kando yake na kulala naye, hadi Telemako akatoa amri: “Nyinyi wachumba mnaosumbua mama yangu, nyinyi wafidhuli, leo jioni wacha tule na tujitose stareheni, mkae kimya. Ni kitu kizuri kumsikiza mwimbaji kama huyu bila kelele ju ana sauti nyororo.

Jua likijichomoza sote tukusanyike na tuchukue viti vyetu, ndio niwatolee amri na niwaambie ghafla: Lazima mhame huku! Nendeni mkale kwingine, na mle mali yenu, nyumba moja baada ya ingine. Lakini mkiamua sherehe inanoga zaidi humu, na ni tajiri zaidi humu, na kufilisi mali ya mtu mmoja bila adhabu, haya basi, endeleeni! Nitawalilia miungu wasiokufa ndio Zusi alipize kisasi—kila mmoja wenu nami nikiepuka bila kuumizwa mwenyewe!”

Nao wakajiuma midomo wakishangazwa kwamba mwanamfalme Telemako angeweza kuzungumza kwa balagha na kiburi hivyo.

Mwana wa Antinou Eupithe akazungumza: “Telemako, ni miungu tu wangekufunza kuongea na kiburi hicho! Mhm mazungumzo ya kijasiri, naomba Zusi asiwahi kufanya mfalme wa Ithaka, lakini kweli taji la baba yako ni lako kwa kuzaliwa.”

Lakini Telemako mtulivu akanena: “Antinou, hata maneno yangu yakikukera, ningefurahi kuchukua taji hata kama ni Zusi atanipa. Unadhani hakuna kitu kibaya zaidi kinaweza kumkuta mtu? Si vibaya kuwa mfalme. Papo hapo kasri inaongezeka utajiri, na utukufu wako kuzidi. Lakini kunao watu wengi wa nasaba bora humu kisiwani, wazee kwa vijana, na huenda moja wao akawa mfalme baada ya kifo cha mfalme Odissio. Ninachotamani mno ni nitawale nyumba yangu na hawa watumwa ambao baba yangu alinishindia.”

Eurimako, mwana wa Polibu, akaongezea: “Ni miungu wataamua mwenye ataongoza kisiwa cha Ithaka. Lakini miliki mali yako, na uongoze nyumba yako na usiitikize mtu mwengine kukuvuruga ju ya mali yako kukiwa na wakaazi humu Ithaka. Sasa, rafiki yangu kijana mjasiri, nina maswali kuhusu huyo mgeni wako. Rafiki yako katokea wapi? Wa nchi gani? Anasema nyumbani ni wapi na familia yake? Ana fununu kuhusu kurudi kwa baba yako ama ana shughuli zake? Ama ni kuitisha usaidizi? Aliondoka upesi mno hatukupata nafasi ya kumkuta, lakini alionekana mwadilifu.”

Telemako akajibu kierevu: “Eurimako, ni dhahiri kwamba babangu amepotea na hatarudi kamwe. Huwa siamini uvumi, uvumi toka kokote, na sijishughulishi na utabiri mama akiita mganga kumwuliza maswali. Huyo mgeni ni rafiki wa kitambo toka nchi ya Watafi. Mwana wa mwenye hekima Ankialu. Anajiita Mente, kiongozi wa Watafi wapenda kasia.”

Alijibu hivo akijua kwamba mungu mmoja wa kike kamtembelea. Na sasa wachumba wakarudi kusherehekea na kuimba wakingoja jioni na giza la usiku waendelee na sherehe. Na mwisho walale kila mmoja arudi nyumbani.

Telemako akarudi kwenye chumba cha kulala kilichojengwa pale bustani. Chumba cha kifahari kimetengwa kando. Hapa alijipeleka kufikiria kwa utulivu. Mhudumu wake Euricleia mwana wa Opsi alishikilia mwenge. Laerte alikuwa amemlipia huyu mwanamke kitambo akiwa bado ujanani. Alilipa fahali 20, akamheshimu kama bibiye nyumbani lakini kwa kuogopa hasira za malkia, hakulala kitandani kimoja. Hakuna mfanyikazi aliyependa Telemako kumliko na ni yeye alimtunza toka utotoni. Sasa alishikilia mwenge akimfungulia chumba kilichopakwa rangi hivi karibuni. Hapo alikaa, akavua gwanda lake, na akalirusha kwenye mikono ya huyu ajuza. Akalikunja kisha akalianika kando ya kitanda kwenye pingo. Kisha akafunga mlango wenye kifungo cha fedha na akafunga mlango huo na akaenda. Usiku mzima, kwenye blanketi, Telemako aliwaza kile Athena alimwambia.

“Dhidi yao” is a Swahili phrase that means “against them”. As the image I am trying to paint is one of a collective society that is at odds, or even more drastically, at war with its authors.

For centuries, the lettered have served societies with the utility of writing for both mundane and higher purposes. Outside of the function of daily administrative duties, an intelligentsia could exist with the sole purpose of honing and propagating a craft using the written word. This class was responsible for the emergence of poetry, novels, written epics etc. Each of these artforms emerged through literary innovation that could often be associated with one person, spread out through society and got copied within and even by external societies.

These literary innovations have given us a gamut of literary works that can be enjoyed by the vast audience of the current global intelligentsia. And it is necessary, for the African reader, to ask themself, why they have treated this intelligentsia class with such a careless and regrettable disdain.

Yesteryears

You can name Shakespeare, you can name Plato; the more curious ones might be able to name Cheng’en or Shikibu. The striking bit about the named people is how long ago they lived and how accurately their works have been transmitted to modern audiences. They have been adapted and modernised into whichever forms of new media have arisen over the centuries and are household names all over the world.

The key to having such transmissions is rooted in deep reverence and respect for a piece of literature. It is not enough to respect the work, one has to actively make it transmittable to the future audience. Hundreds of years pass and languages become alien over time, they deviate and take unprecedented courses. The more enlightened fellows in society do a general service of rendering these works readable, others in different lands also take the opportunity to translate these works into their own languages. And in this way, a comprehensive chain of transmission and a literary culture allows works to survive and if they’re lucky, to thrive.

Ngugi had an intrinsic understanding of this. He wailed and lamented about the fatalism rife in African literature. He cried that the Okaras of his day did not bother to “sweat it out to create in Ijaw” (Ngugi wa Thiong’o 8). It was an admittance, that truly, a schism had formed in the minds of the post-colonial African literati. That some, had accepted that their languages had taken a back seat and that the transformation of European languages into elaborate infusions of local cocktails was a preferred from of expression.

Osofisan, added that it was necessary to add a tapestry of translations, whether it was from European languages to our very own or in the opposite direction. All of these suggestions are addressing the aforementioned point, that there should be multiple mediums of works(even if it is the act of translation). Ngugi himself did write in an African language(Kikuyu) , yet today we have the vast majority of his works accessible to us in languages a diverse audience can read, and an even more impressive feat is that one of his short stories is one of the most translated stories in the history of literature(The Upright Revolution: Or Why Humans Walk Upright). Achebe and Okara used English as the preferred medium, and they cemented themselves as literary juggernauts. Despite the schism concerning the question of language, their stories are here and are accessible. Now we should ask ourselves, why are their stories still with us while a considerable portion of their peers have been relegated to the realm of the forgotten?

Yester-Yesteryears

One has to describe the attitude towards literary work or their preservation on the African continent as a callous and lackadaisical affair. Yes, this tone is harsh, but there is no other rational way to put forth these words.

There have been elaborate literary movements prior to colonisation and even during the era of colonisation and one might be hardpressed to come up with an answer as to why a lot of these works are lost or not in circulation.

The Swahili language, for instance, can boast of a rich history of local translations of famous works, on top of, their original productions, but a quick scan through bookshops would have you believe otherwise. You couldn’t possibly conclude that this language might boast such wealth. Out of sight, out of mind is a description that you could generally use, and you would be correct because these works are also probably not in personal libraries.

This pattern is replicable across the continent, except for a few pockets of sanity like the custodians of the Timbuktu manuscripts.

What this means for the rest of us is that our pioneers of certain schools of African literature are forgotten within a generation, and their works eroded and lost to time. The effort to preserve them is always outsourced to western institutions and private western collections.

Books that should still be in print or at least somewhat accessible in digital formats are lost. When you investigate the excuses made for this, you rationalize that it’s nothing short of defending a culture of carelessness. Economics, some may quip, is the reason these works are forgotten. So why do we still have stories that are thousands of years old from European authors? A culture of transmission, reinvention, reinvigoration and constantly publishing so that works are not lost.

The instrumental value of engaging in literary culture is lost on what I assume to be the majority. And so, I make a case for piracy.

To Be Pirates

A single page preserved in a picture is a single page that can be transmitted. Authors must at least understand to a level that the great forgetting of their works is a type of death. A death of work that has been painstakingly put together.

In an environment rife with poverty, on top of a careless culture and a perennially underdeveloped literary infrastructure, a person with a digitized library may be the only person ensuring that the author persists. I say this in the most literal sense.

Some may argue that this is a form of depriving the author and his estate a livelihood and this is stealing their work, but a work that exists in nothing but name is a work we can only imagine. It is of no utility to the author or his estate. In fact, the unintended consequence of digitizing and making the work freely available might be that it generates interest in the literary community and develops a new life; a prolonging. Hopefully, it might even be republished.

This is my case for piracy. If the African literary space will not accommodate Africans and treat intellectual output as something not worth looking at again and again, as is often the case, then it is in your best interest to be a digital pirate. One may do this in the hope that future generations may be smarter and more refined than we are. In this future, they have shed callousness towards authors, and they keep the authors who have long ceased to be of the flesh alive on their shelves and their digital folders.

In this environment, it is piracy that might allow the artist to live on as far as perpetuity demands.

Reference:

Wa Thiong'o, Ngũgĩ. "Decolonising the mind.”

The arrival of Speed yesterday sparked discourse concerning the way affection is expressed between Kenyan men; and most importantly, there was a keen focus on the supposed “homoerotic” aspects of it.

This, naturally, led some scrambling around in search of language or rather, justification, for this flamboyant outward expressiveness. Doing so would at least absolve the majority of people who participated in this affair from the allegations that have been tossed their way. The pertinent question that remains is, why was this the immediate line of thinking that took precedence in the minds of many?

Linguistic Shortcomings?

Languages determine how we think, and how we express ourselves. Different languages have different sets of phrases to say the same thing and certain languages have a myriad of words for things that other languages might not have.

This is relevant to the conversation because we can map our way around the psyche of a Kenyan whenever they hear the word “love”. We are cognizant of the fact that there are different types of love; we know we can love our family; we can love our friends; we can love our spouses. And the distinction is evident even if not explicitly named in the common tongues that we speak. If I were to say that I love my mother, there are very few people who would make the assumption that this is an incestuous thought. Now, if a male said that he “loved” his male friends, a good number would immediately resort to thinking this is a homosexual affair because this type of love between male friends should first and foremost not be given such titles or embellishments.

So we can deductively reason that the problem is not a linguistic shortcoming as Kenyans can, and often do, make distinctions between different types of love. Every day, they juggle between eros and philia without blurring the lines because the distinction, even if not mentioned, is innately understood. So the next front that has to be scrutinized is the socio-cultural one.

Why Gay?

Why gay? Why homosexual?

Many often make the mistake of viewing Kenya and Kenyans outside of their historical socio-cultural relations and intra-communal relations. This is ever more pronounced when looking at the Kenya of today without contrasting it with the entity/entities that existed here for centuries prior to the existence of Kenya.

The various traditional nations we all descend from had a variety of cultural practices that centered the experience of male interaction with each other. Working together, hunting together, experiencing initiation together, raiding together, drinking together, building together, braiding hair together.

All these activities were viewed as things that were done between men and there was an understanding that such affairs were the reserve of friends, or even brothers brought together by circumstance. Well-knit networks of male friends and communities were essential for the community to defend itself, thrive, and survive.

Contrast this with the modern country. Expressing affection or admiration towards a male peer quickly gets dubbed as homoerotic behavior. Admiring a fellow who has acquired a plenty sum is derisively assessed as being homosocial. These are misnomers and misjudgements of human expressions that have existed since humans began to write. They are carelessly flung around as the allegation can easily be used to reduce one’s social currency; a manner of degradation and shaming.

I will not attempt to investigate the prevalence of this thought, but I can infer some of its origins.

The Female Gaze

Male attention is for the woman.

You may object to this, and you will be right for doing so but this is a sound epicenter for this earthquake.

Affectionate attention is for the woman. A man’s eyes should solely fixate and gravitate to the superfluosness of a woman’s beauty. When this attention is directed at the achievements or innate qualities of another man, then this is an action worth berating, a position worth scorn and an act worth mislabeling.

A man mustn’t admire or be drawn to strength, charisma or wealth. Those are things that women are drawn to in this intellectual maze. If men engage themselves in a manner suggesting that they have social qualities of women, then they should be ostracized.

This is the profanity of this thought. The patriarchal view of Kenyan society demands hypermasculine stoicism, and apathy towards admirable qualities of other men. It demands that a gynocentric worldview must be the only object of desire with regards to admiration. Patriarchy, like Kronos, is a demented cannibal of its children.

Now that we can see the epicenter of this grave malady, we should aim to see its faux-remedy.

The Dance of the Scorned

Afraid of social sanctions, the otherwise normal male thus turns into a dancer and actor. A propagator of fakeness in hypermasculinity. An immutable and immovable concrete rock that is alienated from the very things that make him human.

In his fake peacock dance, he pretends to be devoid of affection for his peers as this makes him outwardly more virile. This man is the golden standard, he cannot be deemed homosocial or homoerotic. At the slightest invocation of brotherly love, verily, he screams unto thee:

“Kwani mi ni shoga? Kwani mi ni chichi?”

“Am I a homosexual? A faggot?”

His peers, understanding the signal, laugh in jest. A laughter that masks the inherent weakness of such utterances.

And the self-reinforcing dance of pretend-stoicism paired with congratulatory cheers sets the tone for how one has to be seen without any touch of homoerotic blemish.

In doing so, our male protagonist degrades and defaces the self for social approval that reduces the essence of outward admiration and brotherliness. A poor remedy to social interactions!

Competition and Admiration

Contrary to what the norms dictate, it is necessary for admiration to happen. It is necessary for affection between males to be moulded.

One must understand that it is possible to strive and work harder to achieve a desired stature. One must be acquainted with the ways of an individual they aim to emulate.

Simple actions such as engaging in more sports, reading together with male peers, and competing among each other are healthier ways of solving this societal oddity that we are discussing. Growing ever fitter and learning coordination in team activities, even those as simple as playing football or bodybuilding, are healthy opportunities to identify those among you who are better. These are opportunities for the otherwise maladjusted male to healthily absolve themselves of having to engage in the obscene dance of the scorned.

These are environments that encourage refining technique, asking questions, playfully bantering each other and getting better at whichever team activity individuals engage in.

These are environments where one does not have to act stoicism, or hypermasculinity because they test your limits. Here you can be exhausted, clueless; you can be chidlishly cheerful and outwardly expressive towards your male peers.

In reality, the constant suggestive invocation of homoeroticism is indicative of a society that enjoys the comfort of living a relatively normal, if not a dull life. A luxury that many do not enjoy in adjacent societies. Those adjacent societies where constant warring means it is a luxury to see your male friends; whom you hug after long journies because you weren’t assured they’d survive a trip.

I will task the reader with an activity. Observe war-torn media and focus keenly on how the men relate. Observe the hand-holding when walking. Observe the hugging. Observe the crying. Observe the cheek-kissing. Observe these things, no matter how uncomfortable they make you. Strife breeds overt brotherly affection; the type that is detested here.

The essence of this activity is not for you to appropriate these actions. It’s for you to understand the contrasts between societies that understand the inherent fickleness of this life so they have to drop certain pretensions, and those that generally don’t.

The concoction of a dull and fairly uneventful life and the gynocentric focal point of male affection breeds a brewed concoction of finger-pointing and homoerotic pontification. A maladjustment of comfort.

Conclusion

This article is in no way exhaustive and a lot more could be added to it dissect the psyche of the Kenyan male and the expectations surrounding him. Some of the things said here can be objected and contested hotly but the bottom line remains that the idea that one can love their male friends brotherly seems to be getting ever shrouded in profane allegations of a constant desire to liken every form of love to erotic attraction.