My brother is an athur
But hates to be called one
When you meet with him in a public place and greet him in leb Thur, you shall never be friends anymore
My brother is an athur, but prefer to use the foreign language imposed on him by the education system installed by the whites
My brother is an athur, who hates to eat dek Amalakwang mixed with othotho, our grandfather's most adorable meal that we were taught never to abandon
The foreign way of doing things is all my brother prides in,
He wears on his wrist around like thing like the aculo made by our jie brothers, when he doesn't like to contain your companionship anymore because you can't speak the foreign language, he excuses himself by glancing at it with his large eye glasses that he never forgets to carry along with him
My brother hates odii, our most cherished appetizer, when my grandfather offers him Kwon Kal with odii put inside and covered, he looks at it like a mockery to his diet, he only loves to live the foreign way because he is the most learned in our village
My brother's keeper tells us, he sleeps up to 10, a time man must be in the garden while accomplishing tilling on his farm
My brother behaves like a white man because he studied in the school of the whites and learned the ways of the whites, he doesn't want to marry an athur woman because she doesn't much his taste, yet the one he likes doesn't know how to mingle Kwon Kal, she doesn't know how to grind using the village stone and above all doesn't know how to make othach, a round like piece of thread used to carry firewood from the forest or ongene hill-top
My brother dislikes our culture, he calls it demonic, archaic and barbaric,
He doesn't know how to to dance a twin dance, he only prefers a ball-room dance
One that he holds tight a woman and swing her in the air while cuddle her waist coyly
He doesn't know how to dance miel bull, a dance for merry making, he only knows how to twist his legs the foreign way
Miel Bul is a dance for showing off a man's taste to a woman, a dance of pride where the women giggle flirtatiously and the men with vigour stamp on the ground, The worst dancers always delay to get a.companion for marriage, because they can't entice a woman with dance and they don't know how to chunt something called mwoch I lebthur,
For me I chunt this way, " acielo thwon kibwor j'bwor omungo amunga"
But my foreign brother looks at me like a crazy person to mankind because he is indoctrinated and can't behave like we do as the traditional kinsmen.
We drink marua from a round pot to show solidarity and love for each other
But the whites taught him jealousy by introducing my brother to a bottle of whiskey, called champagne, when he takes a third gullop, he abuses us in the foreign language for example he could say "tablaraza, stunted crooks with conical faces, staring at my bottle with looks like that of the biaffran warlords"
something we don't know but we owe it upon himself to insult his intelligence
My modem brother learned the foreign way of love making through eating up the lips of their counterparts,
He always bully us with sarcastic statements like, Do you know how to kiss you wretch, can you even kiss you fools?"
He calls us fools because we do not know how to kiss our wives
He call us men of lesser taste because we can't entice our wives through eating up their lips
Something our tradition abhors
©® CHARLES DONALDSON OGIRA
4:14AM
©ogira
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