Kwaheri Kenya

kiSwahili translation

askari-guard/policeman
mvuvi-fisherman
wazimu-crazy
mzungu- caucasian (mostly used for the English)

The little dhow was pushed off the beach by the sailor and his son. With one strong push, it caught the breaking waves and rocked gently towards the open seas. The old sailor, afraid that his beloved fishing vessel might be swallowed by the sea, ran after it and heaved himself over the edge landing squarely at the bottom of the dhow. Unfortunately his back and rear were not the only areas affected by the untimely fall. The narrower end of the right oar left his knee throbbing thus leading him to the irrational conclusion that his leg would fall off. He sat himself up rubbing his knee vigorously while eyeing the oar. Before he could begin scolding the oar, his half-blind eyes caught the fluttering edge of a cloth…

From the moment he had jumped in, he had completely forgotten about the lady travelling to the mainland. Even now as his eyes darted from the oar to her, he could neither remember who she was nor what she was doing in his boat. If she hadn’t looked so kind and trustworthy, he would have mistaken her for the devil and smacked her right in the face with the broader side of that oar. He squinted at her and realized that the woman could read the unpleasant scowl on his face. He loosened his grip on his knee and gave her an almost toothless grin. The woman smiled back but looked unconvinced and terrified.

Sarah finally understood now. Their ‘askari’ had warned her about this old fisherman who had the memory of an ant. To prove his point, he told her a story about the fisherman: about how once he went fishing three times in one day because he had forgotten that he had already sold his fish at the market. "I’m telling you Ms. Sarah," he said, "he thought the devil had stolen his fish from him.” What Sarah found most unsettling was how the old man saw the devil in everything that was done. Mwanaidi, the loquacious maid who knew everything about everyone in town, had told her a bizarre story. Even with the little English she could speak, she had managed to tell her this:
“Ms. Sarah, Salimu..mvuvi…how say….fisherman….he wazimu wazimu.”
“You mean crazy?” said Sarah
“Yes, yes, wazimu, like devils...”
“Likes Devils?”asked Sarah. But Mwanaidi’s limited English could only narrate that much. When she asked the askari about what Mwanaidi had meant, he clicked his tongue and reluctantly told her that Salimu, the mvuvi, the fisherman, had been cursed by his wife and could not trust anyone or anything. “I’m telling you, Ms. Sarah, he thinks the devil is after his soul.”

The old fisherman knew that the woman did not speak any Kiswahili since she was a mzungu. Furthermore, the only English words he knew were good morning and thank you and even when he said them, they sounded more like “kuti moning” and thankou”. For him and for every English speaking human he met, it was inevitable that those two words would be the beginning and the end of a conversation. Nevertheless, he nodded his head, grinned and stupidly said, “kuti moning…thankou”. Then he sat still and waited for her reaction. The woman looked confused at first but a smile gradually plastered itself on her face. “oh yes, Good morning and thank you very much..you know for taking me across on such short notice.” He hadn’t understood a thing but smiled and nodded until his neck hurt.

All Sarah wanted was to get to the other side. Her father had written her an urgent letter about their position now that Kenya was about to get its independence. He had asked her to come immediately as they were to discuss some serious issues regarding their land and other inventory. She just wanted to arrive safely before the fisherman assumed she was devilish. God knows what he would do to her if that were the case. She could barely see the other side of the shore when the fisherman stopped the boat and begun to lower his net into the sea, oblivious to the fact that Sarah was in that boat with him impatiently waiting to arrive at her destination…