NAKUJAN Vs THE SPEAR

NAKUJAN Vs THE SPEAR

By Jeremy Leariwala

A long, long time ago in a village called Angorot, there lived a young lady called Nalongopi. She had a two year old daughter called Nakujan. It is said that her husband and son took care of their stock while she stayed back at home to take care of their house. There were many other villagers living with them in the village.

The story taller tells us that there was a lot of tension in their village since it was reported that a number of enemy warriors had been spotted nearby. Those days’ communities fought over grazing fields, water and boundaries more frequently than today. But no one wanted to move away. They stayed put and fought on because there was nowhere else to go.

But one day Nalongopi strapped Nakujan onto her back. She picked her machete, rope and walked out of the village to go and fetch some firewood. There was no one else going to the forest and she badly needed the woods for cooking. She feared the enemy warriors but what was she to do? As she hurried along the path, Nakujan slowly drifted to sleep. She walked deep into the forest until she found a dry shrub to cut into portable pieces. The only sound she heard was that of chirping birds and a distant bark of a fox.

She got busy with her sharp machete. She hurriedly cut the first branches off the shrub, scrapped off the thorns and put them beside herself. Her daughter was sound asleep despite the noise from the machete and vigorous shaking by her mother. Nalongopi was halfway the task when out of a nearby bush, a strange looking enemy warrior emerged. In his right hand he held a long sharp spear. His face was covered with dirt from many days of lurking in the bush. He had heard Nalongopi cutting firewood and decided to attack her. He stalked her, slowly taking steps towards her and the sleeping child. Nalongopi did not see him and she was not even aware that there was a stranger in her proximity.

The warrior tip-toed cautiously making sure that he did not make any noise to alert her. One step at a time he went, the distance between them narrowing every time he moved. Nalongopi cut more woods determined to finish before sunset. The warrior held his spear aloft ready to stab her when he reached striking distance.

The enemy had about six steps left before reaching Nalongopi when Nakujan stirred on her back. She kicked her a little and wiggled as she rubbed her eyes as if to clear away the remaining sleep. The warrior saw this but that was nothing to deter him from finishing his mission. Nakujan turned around and came face to face with the stalker. They stared at each other briefly. The warrior feared that the child will give away his presence. He raised his foot slowly, taking one more step with his spear still held at ready. Nakujan fixed her eyes on him and followed his motion keenly.

Nakujan’s innocent brain told her it was games time. She burst out laughing with her tinny legs flailing in the air. The warrior froze, Nakujan went silent and they locked eyes again. The warrior went for the second step and triggered a more hysterical laughter from the infant Gin but Nalongopi only concentrated with the urgent business of collecting firewood.

“Kimie abolia! Tigirai!” ‘Stop fidgeting and keep quite’, she ordered her. The enemy now only had two steps left and Nakujan’s ribs were aching. He took the steps in a dash, brought down his spear into the left hand and with his now free hand, slapped Nalongopi hard on the thigh. So violent was the hit that Nalongopi nearly fell into the pile of firewood on her left hand side. She stumbled, steadied herself frightened and came face to face with the scariest face she had ever seen. The enemy she ever dreaded stood so close to her that she could smell his sweat in the air she breathed. They did not talk and the bloody red eyes of the man told her how furious he was. Nakujan had a fit of hiccups and was struggling to crane her neck to see her playmate. Nalongopi felt her legs weakening and her machete slid down her palm onto the ground.

The warrior stepped back, he made a half circle turn and trotted off into the bush where he had come from. Nalongopi could not belief her luck; she had no time to pick the machete, the rope or the firewood. She took to her heels and ran all the way to Angorot village. The villagers must be alerted before it was too late.

Moral of the story is simple. Children are little angels through whom God can talk to us. Don’t hurt them, be a good example to them because children know no tribe nor hate. It is us who teach them through our acts and behavior.