A Land Purchase

The village sits on a small flat, extending further up the hill, towards the lower slopes of the mighty Mt. Meru. The mountain affords the village with adequate seasonal rainfall, from the short rains and later, the long rains. It is because of the rainfall that the village is shaded by a mix of indigenous and exotic trees, among them the two large mangoes and the avocado gracing the yard of Henry’s house.

Perched on the hill above his house stood a school-owned house, where three families lived, attached accommodation in English terms. Each had an entrance room, an even smaller storeroom and a pokey little bedroom. Spartan accommodation but still better that the accommodation provided by many government primary schools.

The toilet was across the road and was  communal, a tin shed with a bomb-box hole in the floor. It served also for bathing. Water was carried by bucket up from the small stream, ten minutes away, down the hill.

Each family had their own cooking space outside; small enclosures with barely protection from the rain. Cooking was done on the traditional three-stone hearth. Families learned cooking skills because the hearth is where they sat in the dark until the meal was prepared at around 9:00pm.

There was electricity in the form of a single bulb inside but was seldom used because of the cost and unreliability of supply.

Mags and Henry had become close friends with the family living in the middle section of the housing complex, stemming from the friendship of Mbise, one of their nursery workers.

Mama Upendo was a solo mother whose husband had absconded around the time of the birth of her youngest daughter, leaving her to raise three children on a scant teacher salary.

Henry shared some of their household/nursery water with them as well as firewood from some of the large trees in their yard. The firewood came from fallen branches that the wind or monkeys broken loose.

Mama Upendo and Mags often spoke about Mama’s uncertain future because she had no family entitlements and the school had the right to evict her at any time usually on a whim of the district supervisor. The pair were often wistful about the possibility of her owning her own home.

One morning Henry knew that Mama Upendo had something on her mind; her body language always gave her away. She strode up the drive arms outstretched to bring them together in a silent clap – and she was alone. That was another sure sign.

‘Shikamoo, Mzee.’ She gave the respectful greeting that was unnecessary between friends, but meant  she had a formal request to put to us.

Mags caught on to Henry’s look, so a soda was offered and they sat out on the baraza, small-talking until Mama was ready.

‘Mzee.’ She addressed Henry, but held Mags’ hand to include her. ‘There is a Pentecost man who has some land that he is selling.’ The ‘Pentecost’ was her way of identifying him.

Henry took another swig of his soda.

‘He needs money,’ she continued, ‘and will sell the whole plot or even half of it.’

‘Where is the land?’ Henry asked quietly.

‘Just up the footpath above our house.’ She replied looking for a reaction and seeing none from Henry.

The three climbed the short distance to inspect the area, which Henry estimated at about two acres. It sloped slightly to the south and there were some scattered trees, a good plot of land.

‘Pentecost wants 800 000/- for the whole area so half will be 400 000/-' Mama had apparently done her homework.

‘We will think about it.’ Smiled Henry, which encouraged her.

Winks between Henry and Mags affirmed their intended help.

Henry was apprehensive because legally all land belonged to the government and he was likely opening a can of worms and he did not want to have to confront 'issues'. He checked with the village government and his mate Loti; they said it was merely a matter of passing over the money. Canny Henry drew up a plan of the area and typed a sale agreement making several copies. With Mama’s help he found all the adjacent landowners and included their names on the agreement. He also named the village chairman and the vendor’s sons.

 

The time for all the signatories to meet on site  arrived but before they left, Henry handed Mama Upendo the 400 000/-. She had not ever touched that amount before.

They found that the owner and his mate, who had heard on the grapevine that Mama wanted the bottom half of the plot. They had marked the area out, but obviously the top ‘half’ had much more area than the bottom. On Henry’ urging, Mama said she wanted to buy the top half!

Confounded and embarrassed because an empowered Mama Upendo spoke so all could hear, ‘Do you want the money or not? It’s not just paper I  have in my pocket you know!’

By evening, Mama had her land and the agreement signed by all parties – with a copy given to each.

Henry, as was his way, planted a tree on each corner of the plot, but neighbour, Sumari moved two of them to his advantage!  Henry said nothing, he simply moved them back.

This was just the beginning.

The Young Archeologist

During the summer holidays, young Ben went with Henry and his family to stay in the camping ground at Charmouth where he watched people on the beach fossicking for Ammonites and other Jurassic stuff. He thought it was funny that they were even happy to find dinosaur poo! Anyone who found things seemed very happy and excited with what the picked up!

They paid a visit to Lyme Regis and in the museum he looked at the bones of the scary Ichthyosaurus! It was very big with huge teeth! Later Henry told Ben about Mary Anning who found lots of stuff along the beach ages ago.

Ben’s interest was sparked by the fossils found on the Jurassic Coast and at home he happened to see Baldrick on a TV programme called Time Team, where they dug up all sorts of old and interesting stuff! Even broken things seemed to give them a kick!

 

The school holidays were still on, so one day Ben waited until his Dad was away at work so he could start his own archeological dig in their back lawn, just like in the TV programme.

When Ben dug a big hole his mother warned him that Dad would be angry when he came home to see what a mess the lawn was in.

‘But Mum,’ wailed Ben, ‘I’ve found some really interesting things!’

‘Nonsense!’ growled his mother and off she went for coffee and gossip with Mildred and Doreen.

Ben’s Dad didn’t seem too worried about the hole or the mess, because he had stopped off at the pub on the way home, so was in a good mood! Actually, he couldn’t have cared less!

The next day, Ben dug some more and found another lot of artifacts so he labeled them all and boxed them up ready to send off to the museum. He knew what each item was because he had found pictures of them in the thick encyclopedia that his Dad won in a raffle at the pub. He told Ben it would be handy someday. 

There was Lucy’s scull – or one very like it. And it had marks where a saber tooth tiger had bitten it! Probably ate the poor person!

There was the thighbone of a T. rex.

There was an ancient Egyptian comb. Probably from the 3^rd dynasty.

There was an ancient Roman pot. And it was filled with ancient sand, maybe even from a pyramid.

Finally he included an old Roman coin! It had the name Pint or something dimly written on it.

Ben carefully wrote a letter to the museum telling them where he had found the items and with his mother’s help (and stamps) he sent the box off to the museum. There had been an a big argument argument with mother because she had thought the whole episode a bit silly and squarely blamed Henry!

A week later, a letter arrived addressed to Ben and on the envelope there was a stamp that read National Museum. He couldn’t wait to open it and ripped at the envelope.

The letter said, ‘Dear Ben, thank you for the artifacts that you sent us, they were well labeled and protected but unfortunately you have not identified them correctly. For you information, the following is what you have actually found.

‘The head is not prehistoric; it is in fact the severed head of a Ken doll of the Barbie tribe. A dog, and not a saber tooth tiger has made the teeth marks.

The bone you found is not a dinosaur thighbone but a chicken leg bone, probably dropped after a past BBQ in your back yard.

The comb is not ancient at all but is made from plastic and is the sort your Granny might use to keep her hair in place.

The vessel you found is not actually a Roman pot, but it is a rusty tin mug, and the sand in the bottom indicates that a child played with it with in a sand pit.

The coin is interesting, although it is not Roman. It is a plastic milk token used to purchase milk 30 years ago. They were used to stop people stealing money left out for the milkman.

The museum has plenty of these.’

Ben’s brother Albert, was tickled at the mistakes the he had made and made fun of him, so Ben poked him in the eye!

He went off archeology after that and because he found a screwdriver and amused himself by jabbing at things with it - especially flies!

Ben’s Dad, took advantage of the hole that Ben had dug, filling it with cow manure and soil to make a very nice vegetable garden!

So in the end Ben was quite happy how it all ended because in the garden, as well as vegetables, his father, planted strawberries! Ben’s favorite!

Missionaries, Zealots and What They Stand For

Two hundred years ago, on Christmas day, old Samuel Marsden preached the first Christian Service in New Zealand and he is credited with bringing Christianity to the country.  Two hundred years later, parliament asked itself if it should continue with the opening prayer – it does, for the meantime.

Old Samuel was apparently preaching to the indigenous population, who were at that time unfamiliar with the English language and what they gleaned his preaching is difficult to know. His idea, no doubt, was to convert them and that is usually done in most religions by promising everlasting life, a hereafter for believers. Just how he conveyed the idea of Heaven and if it was understood is uncertain.

Like all races, Maori are intelligent and would not have tarried if they were not entertained or enticed in some way – food is always a good enticement.

The simplest form of classification in humanity is good and bad or the stronger term evil.

When it comes to religion, a deity or prophets promote laws and rituals aimed at making their followers good. Likely there are cults that promote evil and follow their particular deity too, but the majority align with the good and desire to be classified as good – because the good have an afterlife.

There are also those who align with neither good nor bad – these are the fence-sitters, a group that is growing; the secular – faithless, if you like.

Missionaries like Schweitzer promote their religion by doing good deeds like building hospitals or schools, providing water, delivering medical assistance and much more. It is beneficial to be a follower– and the idea of a possible afterlife can’t be a bad thing. Most would agree that they align with the good.

There are bands of zealots, who do their missionary work through violence. They think their deity will be pleased, but most of the world condemn them as evil.

To help the zealots with their thinking, here is a barometer: upon reaching the gates of the hereafter, the gate keeper will ask, ‘What good have you done that would allow you to enter here?’

‘I shot a bunch of school kids in the name of our deity.’ The zealot replies.

Of the two hereafters, which suits the deeds?

Power, they say corrupts, and it does! And power is orgasmic for these zealots, believing themselves to be crusaders, armed to the teeth and omnipotent. They use their religion as an excuse. Off they go on their killing, raping and rampaging spree thrilling at their power, later defecating because of the nervous tension and wiping with their dirty hand – a useless exercise because both hands are soiled!

Believing forgiveness, even honour will be granted by their deity. But what they have done is in fact unforgivable.

Oddly the current lot of zealots are meting out revenge for attacks, saying that such attacks make them even stronger. Hey up! How do they expect the people they attack to react?

The girls or young women who run off to join them are not motivated by religious purity; its hormones – the same reason girls and young women hang around rock stars, footballers, politicians - or any imagined testosterone-charged-half-influential bloke.

Power is not easily relinquished, evidenced by all those dictators who end up paranoid about their own safety – and dead after outstaying their welcome. Power may be given willingly or unwillingly as with a new church here in the antipodes. A self-styled bishop has created a huge enterprise and while he may be fleecing his parishioners, they are coughing up willingly – if somewhat coerced.

It remains to be seen if the parishioners will wrest the power from the bishop – intelligence has a habit of winning through.

If a missionary wants to collect followers, he has to promote faith. In promising a hereafter, he relies on faith because there is nothing that the five senses can experience to actually prove its existence. Indoctrination from an early age is one of the ways to instill faith into adherents. Recite stuff by rote until it is ensconced in the brain.

The other way is to preach using religious texts, literature and pictures as well as demonstrating good acts to promote a Utopian place.

No matter the deity, it is a human frailty to slip up and commit sin, so the missionary, or deity’s representative is able to conjure up forgiveness – sometimes for a fee – and the client then thinks entry into the hereafter is a certainty.    

But surely a deity who has created the universe and all in it, can’t be that easy to fool!

There is a right for everyone to believe, or not believe, in whatever takes their fancy and not to be judged for doing so. There is no right to force beliefs on others and there is no right to use belief to harm others. Robust debate, however is helpful.