Even from the time that he was a boy, your grandfather Onyango was strange. It is said of him that he had ants up his
anus, because he could not sit still. He would wander off on his own for many days, and when he returned he would not
say where he had been. He was very serious always-he never laughed or played games with the other children, and
never made jokes. He was always curious about other people’s business, which is how he learned to be a herbalist. You
should know that a herbalist is different from a shaman-what the white man calls a witch doctor. A shaman casts spells
and speaks to the spirit world. The herbalist knows various plants that will cure certain illnesses or wounds, how to
pack a special mud so that a cut will heal. As a boy, your grandfather sat in the hut of the herbalist in his village,
watching and listening carefully while the other boys played, and in this way he gained knowledge.
When your grandfather was still a boy, we began to hear that the white man had come to Kisumu town. It was said
that these white men had skin as soft as a child’s, but that they rode on a ship that roared like thunder and had sticks
that burst with fire. Before this time, no one in our village had seen white men-only Arab traders who sometimes came
to sell us sugar and cloth. But even that was rare, for our people did not use much sugar, and we did not wear cloth,
only a goatskin that covered our genitals. When the elders heard these stories, they discussed it among themselves and
advised the men to stay away from Kisumu until this white man was better understood.
Despite this warning, Onyango became curious and decided that he must see these white men for himself. One day he
disappeared, and no one knew where he had gone. Then, many months later, while Obama’s other sons were working
the land, Onyango returned to the village. He was wearing the trousers of a white man, and a shirt like a white man, and
shoes that covered his feet. The small children were frightened, and his brothers didn’t know what to make of this
change. They called Obama, who came out of his hut, and the family gathered ’round to stare at Onyango’s strange
appearance.
“What has happened to you?” Obama asked. “Why do you wear these strange skins?” Onyango said nothing, and
Obama decided that Onyango must be wearing trousers to hide the fact that he was circumcised, which was against Luo
custom. He thought that Onyango’s shirt must be covering a rash, or sores. Obama turned to his other sons and said,
“Don’t go near this brother of yours. He is unclean.” Then he returned to his hut, and the others laughed and shunned
Onyango. Because of this, Onyango returned to Kisumu, and would remain estranged from his father for the rest of his
life.
Nobody realized then that the white man intended to stay in the land. We thought that they had come only to trade
their goods. Some of their customs we soon developed a taste for, like the drinking of tea. With tea, we found that we
needed sugar, and teakettles, and cups. All these things we bought with skins and meat and vegetables. Later we
learned to accept the white man’s coin. But these things did not affect us deeply. Like the Arabs, the white men
remained small in number, and we assumed they would eventually return to their own land. In Kisumu, some white
men stayed on and built a mission. These men spoke of their god, who they said was all-powerful. But most people
ignored them and thought their talk silly. Even when white men appeared with rifles, no one resisted because our lives
were not yet touched by the death such weapons could bring. Many of us thought the guns were just fancy ugali
stirrers.
Things began to change with the first of the white man’s wars. More guns arrived, along with a white man who called
himself district commissioner. We called this man Bwana Ogalo, which meant “the Oppressor.” He imposed a hut tax
barré
(Barré)
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