Kyozi

By TOBIAS MUHANGUZI

A story is set in the late 70's and 80’s, about a young boy called KAGUSHA MATTHEW, from a village in western Uganda, who was brought to the city to study, he narrates his story through school and compares his village to the city, and he describes the beauty of his village and his strong attachment to his culture. He centres his story on a cow called “KYOZI”, from which he shows the suffering and stigma an AIDS patient goes (went) through. Himself being HIV positive, he also tells us his personal struggles, all in relation to Kyozi-the black cow.

The story is written in such a way to attract the youth to read it, though full of sorrowful moments, especially when he narrates his love for a girl at high school called “JOY ACAYE”

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lulu.com
• Release date: Jan 30, 2018
• ISBN: 9781387553112

Book preview

CHAPTER ONE;

"My roots routine,

a village well painted"

Well grown

I was born in a sorghum garden,

the day Kyozi was born,

I was named Kagusha¹ by merit,

meaning sorghum,

I was born in the bush,

cleansed by fresh herbs² of my land,

the blessings for life.

born to live,

to see the day after.

I was named Kareireho³

in the dark evening,

When the day set.

the spirits united Nte’Nkuru⁴

but the wine did it best

all the hills sang the same song,

except Bishuba,

where my grandfather"Werefred⁵" lived

Nte’Nkuru had no boundary but had hills like;

Bagusogola⁶, where I was born,

Buhoro⁷, where my grandfather Okuku lived,

Bishobire⁸, where market was set on Friday.

Bishobire meaning confused,

because it united people of all kind.

Hornless bold thing

The day I was born,

A black cow was born,

A dark-black furred calf,

Darker than the night, in the dark night,

The darkest of it was,

She was named Kyozi⁹

Which means a pumpkin

like the black-skinned pumpkin

that grew in the banana gardens

She grew as I also grew

She aged to her galloping stage,

but bore no horns,

cows of my land were long- horned,

she had black shoot like eyes,

when had her first calf,

Her milk was thicker,

white not black.

It made the best, the sweetest of batter,

and ghee.

It sold like grief on grave,

The Ashabwe¹⁰ was even better;

Ashabwe, the sauce from milk.

The irresistible taste its seeds,

When roasted or grown,

The roasted pumpkin seeds,

Browned by the fire, to test the tongue’s taste.

Kyozi made us proud,

even in grazing grounds,

when the cows all hills met,

to graze and battle the cattle,

….to crush their horns to break,

But Kyozi had a stone to offer,

Nkungu,¹¹ they called her,

Meaning a hill of a head.

She won all the challenges,

She was invincible;

On salt dishes or grass,

She was known beyond hills, as a bull in cows

Down the valleys of Nte-Nkuru

grown a cow of its nature,

full of vigour and zeal,

one never milked

never tamed

milked by brave men

by great herds men

Its milk, that grown me,

. 

The tree beside the lane

beside the lane,

stood a tall-gigantic tree,

It lived for many generations,

It lived not to leave,

but to stay

Its twisted stem shown its strength,

and survival over the time,

each twist is its enemy,

old leaves dried and

the twigs emerged

as new stems grew

It became even stronger

through its vexed struggle

It still stands

although now in wood

with dry sap

It was once a seed, a black seed

It was planted by a black bird

It’s the margin of Nte’Nkuru

and the world, an adventure to explore

a symbol of unity

still like before; still standing, steel in wood

the natives found it

I also found it wet

wet with leaves too

many died and left it

Its leaves healed all

all diseases

all the sick, strangers or not

but only the obedient

the white birds also sheltered on it

Its big buttress roots

like walls that separate a room from another,

equally divided as the clans of Nte’Nkuru,

before the white birds; it was a honoured god.

Oh, its bark,

The cure of all diseases,

Maybe a cure my own.

Its wood harder than any metal

For if it had eyes,

It would tell the tale of what it saw,

its wisdom would surpass man’s

It stands,

a symbol of hardships,

and survivals,

But it’s known for stories, it still stands useless,

Still in wood

Oh, the great"Muusha¹²"

The still medicine man,

Master of their wisdom,

Melt sap and heal my own,

All I could touch was cracks

Its peeling bark with dry sap,

its rough stem with no sound.

Traditional Africa

A place where air is filled with natural music,

From the bills of birds,

Beaks brightly coloured,

With colours of the rainbow,

To deliver fine melodies,

Where tradition still collide with modernity,

Where magic rules,

God and gods still have their respect.

All that the people knew was to smelt spears,

Split blood and become warriors.

Parents had the third eye for their children,

They knew what was best,

Where all men