Three Horizons

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Juma, my husband, a 33 year old Nyando resident, sat on a three legged stool on top of the controversial Nanti hill where rumour had it that Juma’s father had been mistakenly buried on the same spot as his father before him, greatly displeasing the gods, who had then in retaliation, spewed forth the small but ever growing hill. A strange affair that was only referred to by the village folk in hushed tones, behind closed doors, rendering all careful to keep a wide berth betwixt themselves and the strange hill.

However, Juma a fisherman by training and trade was hardly superstitious. For him, life was a three step affair, irrespective of where they walked, sat or slept, man was born, he lived and then died. Understanding this process however did not take away the anxieties and pangs of living as he did. As he sat on his three legged stool behind our house on that hill, his back bent, elbows upon knees and his face cupped in the calloused palms of his hands, three furrows formed on his forehead, his mouth was set in a grim line as he stared intermittently, though subconsciously, at the three different horizons that spanned before and to either side of him.

Directly before him spread the magnanimous and somewhat intimidating lake Victoria, its magnificence shimmered in the last rays of light as the sun dipped shyly along the far edges where the skies rose in brilliant shades of fiery oranges, proud to leave behind a day that had been bright and warm. As dusk set in so was the moment he would have to wake at 3am to go fishing on those seemingly clear waters that could turn treacherous in the dead of the night driven by cunning and irrepressible winds. To his left was our three-huts homestead made up of the kitchen that tripled up as the chickens roost, the storage unit and the cooking area, the living quarters and the last and smallest unit that was the sleeping quarters. In this home were the three most important people in his life. His ailing mother, me, his wife of three years and our three year old son, Vuma. All three  of us depended on him to provide for our daily needs.

Juma fishes six nights a week, leaving Sundays free to ensure he is able to take our son to the three hour church service about three miles into the town centre, a hike they both enjoy. Despite all his efforts however, my husband Juma hardly meets the three basic needs for our family and I know that he wishes he could. He needs to earn more money so that he can repair our house, provide food and medication for us all and have some savings so our son can go to school.

Our small home needs major repairs; the roof that does a poor job of keeping the rains out, the kitchen door that is only barely hanging on its hinges threatening to give way every time someone knocks and the missing window which has recently been crashed by a stray football and whose temporary replacement does little to keep the chilly night drafts at bay. Then there is the family’s health and nutrition. His mother’s medical bills eat up more than half of all his earnings, leaving little to buy food and daily utilities. Three months ago, when the doctor had prescribed more medication, the family had had to give up some daily amenities including soap, sugar and our weekly Sunday delicacy of goat meat.

Red meat was easily replaced by fish, a feat that Juma says is a good thing altogether especially given all the comments his mother made on how much brighter children from the lake side regions were due to all the fish they ate. ‘Our son is going to be a genius because of all the fish he is eating’ he says to me. But what good is there feeding Vuma with genius food day in day out if we cannot provide him with the education that will harness and help him exploit his potential. Although schools around Lake Victoria do not take children under the age of 6 years, we worry that three years will not be enough time to save the funds we need to make sure our son goes to school and stays there.

About three weeks ago, I went to the market, to take Juma his lunch and on the way back, I met a man. A very strange man, he said he was from a far away country; I did not doubt it for he did not look like anyone I had ever seen before. His skin was very fair and his tongue was heavy when he spoke, you could tell this was not his language, that he had learnt it. He told me many things, he told me about how much he liked the weather, among many other things. However, he shared some grievances too, one thing he was not so pleased about was the fact that he could not use his plastic money to buy anything in the village shops and he always had to go to the bank, miles away to get cash for his daily use. I did not understand what he meant, although I quite liked the idea of having plastic money that I could use over and over again, to buy whatever I wanted, whenever I wanted, irrespective of cost and not need to have actual cash money.

When I spoke to Juma about it, he had dismissed it, ‘what nonsense are you on about?’ he asked, and because that was the doctor’s visit day, I dropped the subject, not wanting to upset him more that he already was. But today, as I counted the three shillings I had saved from yesterday’s visit to the market for supplies, I wondered about the plastic money again, and as I watched my husband, weary and forehead furrowed with concentration, no doubt thinking about the next days events, I knew that aside from miraculous turn around events, there was no way I would convince him a plastic card was worth any more than the three shillings I held in my palm, so resigned to the fate of spending only what I had and could see, I made three wishes for the next day, I wished for more fish in the hours of morning when he fished, I wished for more buyers in the market and I wished that my mother-in-law would get better soon and we could save some money for our son’s education. Three wishes, three coins and a tomorrow to give the verdict.

As tomorrow approaches however, will the plastic money be a life-line or shall we be enslaved by accumulated debt? Will the immediate benefits be worth the risk of accumulating debts? Maybe the now and here is not so bad after all? I walk towards him and sit on the floor beside his three legged stool, together we stare out at the horizons extending so far out one could no longer tell where lake or land ended and the skies begun, he sighs deeply, I can see his eyes are troubled, but his voice is strong when he tells me that I should not despair, that all will be well. My heart glows with pride as I sit there beside him, realizing how diligently and lovingly he plays all his three roles in the family, all very demanding roles and responsibilities; the concerned son for his mother; my dutiful husband and third but not least, the adoring father to our son Vuma.