Kisoga: The land where spirits reign
Mar 04, 2005
I clamber onto a white Nissan van covered with red ochre dust. Here in Kisoga, the number of passengers willing to board determines the vehicle’s capacity. I am, therefore, not surprised when 22 passengers are crammed into the van. I sit on the tattered brown rear seat, sandwiched between two fat
By Charles Musisi
I clamber onto a white Nissan van covered with red ochre dust. Here in Kisoga, the number of passengers willing to board determines the vehicle’s capacity. I am, therefore, not surprised when 22 passengers are crammed into the van. I sit on the tattered brown rear seat, sandwiched between two fat women, wearing flowered gomesi. The journey to the land of spirits begins.
The road to this mysterious destination is a torment. It is a hardcore surface with potholes.
The traffic combined with heavy rains, have dented much of the road, leaving ruts and ever widening potholes. As the car bumps against the holes, it veers from side to side, rocking us. There is silence in the car except for the heavy drone of the engine.
On either side of the road, there are a few hovels made from red brick and mud interspersed with wooden stalls carrying pyramids of tomatoes, mounds of potatoes and piles of fresh maize. Lush greenery dominates the rural landscape and its beauty is profound.
At about 3:00pm, I arrive in Kikwayi, a pretty village set in the countryside, surrounded by dense tropical forests. Many of the buildings in this village are mud hovels; a few are new brick houses with silver iron sheets.
The villagers do not know the origin of the village’s name. Some say it was named after one of the great chiefs in the area — Mukwayi — but there is no consensus on this.
According to the natives, spirits have always inhabited their land. Nobody knows when they located to the village, but everyone is aware of their might. Whether this is myth or history is not an issue in Kikwayi, but both no doubt play their part.
The most revered musambwa (spirit) is Kasuku. The spirit’s abode is an eerie place, matted with climbers on tall trees. A track leads to the forest with a mass of leaves and branches that form a cover high above the ground. In the forest, named after the spirit, water trickles from a spring between two grey stones. A light breeze howls gently through the trees while the twitter of birds and chirping of insects harmonise my solitude with a feeling of delight. The trees seem to stir and the smell of leaves hangs in the air.
A few metres from the spring, is a massive sacred tree, locally known as omuwafu (Burseracease canarium schweinfurthiu). It has forked large branches whorled at right angles to the trunk, curving upwards. The tree’s grey stem is thick and rough and the small green leaves are tufted at the end of the branches. The giant tree stretches high beyond the forest canopy. Dry banana fibres, coffee berries, cowrie shells and silver coins are scattered around it.
My guide, Mukasa Katambala, 35, the light skinned priest of kasuku sweeps back his bark cloth, which hangs around him like a bishop’s robe and walks past me to the sacred tree. He removes his black shoes and kneels before invoking divine protection. His eyes suddenly become deep and incandescent with thought as he proceeds with his passionate supplication. When he is finished with praying, he places some dry coffee berries beside the tree, then turns to me.
“Many people come here to pray for the spirit’s blessing and protection. The area around the tree is sacredâ€, he says. “You must remove your shoes and kneel before you say prayers for the spirit to solve your problems. Our ancestors, to cement relationships, used dry coffee berries. Everyone who comes here must bring the berries.â€
“Do people always get what they pray for?†I ask casually.
He shakes his head and laughs.
“You seem to doubt the spirit’s power. Do not be surprised when kasuku punishes you to demonstrate her might.â€
Walking ahead of me, Katambala followed by his son, takes a path winding through thicket, littered with rocks. A snake slither across the path. Scared, I jump into the bushes. The path begins to wind more sharply through a forest of trees, their roots twisting and clutching rocks. While trudging through the forest, I step on a basket full of dry coffee beans, feathers and eggs. Suddenly Katambala stops next to a grey rock with mould and small holes in rows.
This is where the spirits converged in the past to play omweso (board games)â€, he continues, “Kasuku’s abode is sacred. Defecating in the forest, using dirty saucepans to fetch water from the spring and cutting trees from the forest are sacrilegious.â€
Failure to observe the rules provokes a furious reaction from the spirit. The simple village folks know Kasuku’s power too well and are always careful not to antagonise the spirit.
In the 1940s, some villagers tried to clean the area around the springs. Hailstones rained on the village and destroyed all vegetation. There was severe famine in the village.
“People didn’t have to clean it. Whenever the spring becomes dirty, the spirit sends heavy rain to clean itâ€, says Katambala. “The spirit was very angry.â€
Not many years ago, another villager, Joel Mutebi, 25, a resident of Katete village near Kikwayi, collected firewood from the forest. He soon realised the folly of his action. Hailstones rained on his home and destroyed all his crops. The following day, he took back the firewood, only then did the torment stop.
The incident is still etched on the villagers’ minds. And the story is often told to illustrate the serious repercussions of driving the spirit crazy. But some villagers still stray. Last year, Sarah Nalwanga, 58, a born-again Christian led her colleagues to the forest to collect firewood. The villagers were astounded.
“She brought misfortune upon her headâ€, says 70 year-old Manjeri nalwanga, whose short hair is liberally sprinkled with grey. A line is tattooed from the forehead to the ridge of her nose. “Many people have seen the spirit strolling through the village. How could she do such a thing.â€
Since, Nalwanga has been afflicted by serious backache, a claim she denies.
“I have been suffering from backache for a long time. Although it is getting worse, I don’t think it is due to collecting firewood from the forestâ€, the big humble woman says. “I believe in Jesus who has power over spirits.â€
The villagers claim that occasionally, Kasuku emerges from her abode and perches on a grey rock near the spring. Many swear they have seen the spirit.
“She is a tall brown woman with glowing graceful arms and feet, and shoulder length hairâ€, Katambala pauses as though trying to glimpse the spirit again. “Kasuku wraps bark cloth round the body and tucks in under her armpit, leaving her shoulders bare. I first saw the spirit seven years ago in the forest. She was seated on a rock at noon.
Sometimes she appears in form of a python or leopardâ€.
“How strangeâ€.
He pauses, then continues.
“As when I first saw her, she returned to me in a dream, four years ago and beckoned. I rose from my bed and followed her to the forest. She touched my head and pointed at the giant tree, then told me to kneel and pray. When I opened my eyes, I was still in my room. The next day, I went to the forest and offered a goat as a sacrifice to the spirit. It was slaughtered and the blood sprinkled around the base of the treeâ€.
Katambala acts as Kasuku’s priest. He solicits the spirits help in providing rain. “I know the rituals.
When people come to me, I take them to the forest and tell them what to do. When they get what they prayed for later, they must fulfil their pledge. Some bring money, others cows or chicken to thank the spiritâ€.
Spirits have had a significant impact on the natives. In many homes, there is a shrine — a grass thatched hut — where they pay homage to the spirits. About 2kms from kasuku, there are two other massive trees where spirits dwell.
Currently, there is an acute shortage of water in the village and it is attributed to the desecration of kasuku’s abode.
“Women go to the spring with dirty saucepans to fetch water. Others go to the forest when they are in their menstrual cycle. The spirit is very angry, that is why less water comes from the spring nowâ€, says Katambala with conviction. “We must give sacrifices to the spiritâ€.
Believing in the power of the spirits is not peculiar to the natives of Kikwayi. According to John S. Mbiti, formerly a Professor of theology and Comparative Religion, at makerere College (now university), “in many African societies, the spirits act as intermediaries, who convey human sacrifices or prayers to God.â€
Tradition is the bedrock of the small rural community of Kikwayi, comprising mainly the Baganda. It seems, the clock in this remote area stopped in the 17th century.
The natives’ present is insupportable, only their past holds some meaning to them.
I clamber onto a white Nissan van covered with red ochre dust. Here in Kisoga, the number of passengers willing to board determines the vehicle’s capacity. I am, therefore, not surprised when 22 passengers are crammed into the van. I sit on the tattered brown rear seat, sandwiched between two fat women, wearing flowered gomesi. The journey to the land of spirits begins.
The road to this mysterious destination is a torment. It is a hardcore surface with potholes.
The traffic combined with heavy rains, have dented much of the road, leaving ruts and ever widening potholes. As the car bumps against the holes, it veers from side to side, rocking us. There is silence in the car except for the heavy drone of the engine.
On either side of the road, there are a few hovels made from red brick and mud interspersed with wooden stalls carrying pyramids of tomatoes, mounds of potatoes and piles of fresh maize. Lush greenery dominates the rural landscape and its beauty is profound.
At about 3:00pm, I arrive in Kikwayi, a pretty village set in the countryside, surrounded by dense tropical forests. Many of the buildings in this village are mud hovels; a few are new brick houses with silver iron sheets.
The villagers do not know the origin of the village’s name. Some say it was named after one of the great chiefs in the area — Mukwayi — but there is no consensus on this.
According to the natives, spirits have always inhabited their land. Nobody knows when they located to the village, but everyone is aware of their might. Whether this is myth or history is not an issue in Kikwayi, but both no doubt play their part.
The most revered musambwa (spirit) is Kasuku. The spirit’s abode is an eerie place, matted with climbers on tall trees. A track leads to the forest with a mass of leaves and branches that form a cover high above the ground. In the forest, named after the spirit, water trickles from a spring between two grey stones. A light breeze howls gently through the trees while the twitter of birds and chirping of insects harmonise my solitude with a feeling of delight. The trees seem to stir and the smell of leaves hangs in the air.
A few metres from the spring, is a massive sacred tree, locally known as omuwafu (Burseracease canarium schweinfurthiu). It has forked large branches whorled at right angles to the trunk, curving upwards. The tree’s grey stem is thick and rough and the small green leaves are tufted at the end of the branches. The giant tree stretches high beyond the forest canopy. Dry banana fibres, coffee berries, cowrie shells and silver coins are scattered around it.
My guide, Mukasa Katambala, 35, the light skinned priest of kasuku sweeps back his bark cloth, which hangs around him like a bishop’s robe and walks past me to the sacred tree. He removes his black shoes and kneels before invoking divine protection. His eyes suddenly become deep and incandescent with thought as he proceeds with his passionate supplication. When he is finished with praying, he places some dry coffee berries beside the tree, then turns to me.
“Many people come here to pray for the spirit’s blessing and protection. The area around the tree is sacredâ€, he says. “You must remove your shoes and kneel before you say prayers for the spirit to solve your problems. Our ancestors, to cement relationships, used dry coffee berries. Everyone who comes here must bring the berries.â€
“Do people always get what they pray for?†I ask casually.
He shakes his head and laughs.
“You seem to doubt the spirit’s power. Do not be surprised when kasuku punishes you to demonstrate her might.â€
Walking ahead of me, Katambala followed by his son, takes a path winding through thicket, littered with rocks. A snake slither across the path. Scared, I jump into the bushes. The path begins to wind more sharply through a forest of trees, their roots twisting and clutching rocks. While trudging through the forest, I step on a basket full of dry coffee beans, feathers and eggs. Suddenly Katambala stops next to a grey rock with mould and small holes in rows.
This is where the spirits converged in the past to play omweso (board games)â€, he continues, “Kasuku’s abode is sacred. Defecating in the forest, using dirty saucepans to fetch water from the spring and cutting trees from the forest are sacrilegious.â€
Failure to observe the rules provokes a furious reaction from the spirit. The simple village folks know Kasuku’s power too well and are always careful not to antagonise the spirit.
In the 1940s, some villagers tried to clean the area around the springs. Hailstones rained on the village and destroyed all vegetation. There was severe famine in the village.
“People didn’t have to clean it. Whenever the spring becomes dirty, the spirit sends heavy rain to clean itâ€, says Katambala. “The spirit was very angry.â€
Not many years ago, another villager, Joel Mutebi, 25, a resident of Katete village near Kikwayi, collected firewood from the forest. He soon realised the folly of his action. Hailstones rained on his home and destroyed all his crops. The following day, he took back the firewood, only then did the torment stop.
The incident is still etched on the villagers’ minds. And the story is often told to illustrate the serious repercussions of driving the spirit crazy. But some villagers still stray. Last year, Sarah Nalwanga, 58, a born-again Christian led her colleagues to the forest to collect firewood. The villagers were astounded.
“She brought misfortune upon her headâ€, says 70 year-old Manjeri nalwanga, whose short hair is liberally sprinkled with grey. A line is tattooed from the forehead to the ridge of her nose. “Many people have seen the spirit strolling through the village. How could she do such a thing.â€
Since, Nalwanga has been afflicted by serious backache, a claim she denies.
“I have been suffering from backache for a long time. Although it is getting worse, I don’t think it is due to collecting firewood from the forestâ€, the big humble woman says. “I believe in Jesus who has power over spirits.â€
The villagers claim that occasionally, Kasuku emerges from her abode and perches on a grey rock near the spring. Many swear they have seen the spirit.
“She is a tall brown woman with glowing graceful arms and feet, and shoulder length hairâ€, Katambala pauses as though trying to glimpse the spirit again. “Kasuku wraps bark cloth round the body and tucks in under her armpit, leaving her shoulders bare. I first saw the spirit seven years ago in the forest. She was seated on a rock at noon.
Sometimes she appears in form of a python or leopardâ€.
“How strangeâ€.
He pauses, then continues.
“As when I first saw her, she returned to me in a dream, four years ago and beckoned. I rose from my bed and followed her to the forest. She touched my head and pointed at the giant tree, then told me to kneel and pray. When I opened my eyes, I was still in my room. The next day, I went to the forest and offered a goat as a sacrifice to the spirit. It was slaughtered and the blood sprinkled around the base of the treeâ€.
Katambala acts as Kasuku’s priest. He solicits the spirits help in providing rain. “I know the rituals.
When people come to me, I take them to the forest and tell them what to do. When they get what they prayed for later, they must fulfil their pledge. Some bring money, others cows or chicken to thank the spiritâ€.
Spirits have had a significant impact on the natives. In many homes, there is a shrine — a grass thatched hut — where they pay homage to the spirits. About 2kms from kasuku, there are two other massive trees where spirits dwell.
Currently, there is an acute shortage of water in the village and it is attributed to the desecration of kasuku’s abode.
“Women go to the spring with dirty saucepans to fetch water. Others go to the forest when they are in their menstrual cycle. The spirit is very angry, that is why less water comes from the spring nowâ€, says Katambala with conviction. “We must give sacrifices to the spiritâ€.
Believing in the power of the spirits is not peculiar to the natives of Kikwayi. According to John S. Mbiti, formerly a Professor of theology and Comparative Religion, at makerere College (now university), “in many African societies, the spirits act as intermediaries, who convey human sacrifices or prayers to God.â€
Tradition is the bedrock of the small rural community of Kikwayi, comprising mainly the Baganda. It seems, the clock in this remote area stopped in the 17th century.
The natives’ present is insupportable, only their past holds some meaning to them.