Lucky to be alive, let the year begin

Dear Aunt Sophia, Wai, shangazi witu Sophia!

My dear aunt, I begin this letter with our warm Nyamwezi greeting to let you feel, even from far away, the embrace of Ukumbisiganga.

I hope this letter finds you strong and peaceful, living well under the watchful eyes of our Nyamwezi ancestors, guided and protected by their wisdom, led as always by the spirit of our great chief, Mirambo, whose courage and leadership still walk with us in stories, in prayers and in the beating of our hearts.

May their blessings rest upon you wherever you are. Here at home, I am happy to tell you that we are all doing okay. Life continues with its challenges, as it always has, but we remain grateful and united.

The children are growing, the elders still share wisdom under the trees and the land, though sometimes harsh, continues to remind us that it is alive and powerful.

My dear aunt, this New Year came with both fear and joy, and I feel it is my duty to tell you everything, so that you may see it clearly in your mind, as if you were here with us. On New Year’s Eve, the rains in Ukumbisiganga came with a strength we have not seen for some time.

The sky darkened early and the clouds gathered like an army preparing for battle. When the rain finally fell, it did not fall gently.

It pounded the earth with anger, drumming on rooftops, flooding paths and turning the familiar streams into rushing rivers. At one point, my heart almost left my chest, because the water rose so fast that some of my cows and goats were nearly swept away.

I ran out into the rain with the young men shouting warnings, and for a moment I feared I would lose the animals that have fed and sustained our family for so many years. In that moment of fear, I called silently upon Limatunda, who watches over us and our land. I thanked Him even before the danger had passed, because faith is strongest when tested.

My dear aunt, by His mercy, the animals were saved. Some were shaken and muddy, but alive. Not a single one was lost. When the waters finally began to retreat, I stood there soaked to the bone, looking at my cows and goats and I felt deep gratitude rise within me.

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Truly, Aunt Sophia, Limatunda did not abandon us that night. I must tell you how proud I am of the village young men. When danger came, they did not hide. They stood tall and brave, moving from house to house, calling out to check on everyone.

My son Yassin showed great leadership, just like you always said he would. Alongside him was my dear nephew Milambo, strong and alert, guiding people away from flooded areas and helping the elderly to safer ground. They organised themselves quickly, using ropes and torches, making sure children were not left alone and livestock was secured.

Their courage reminded me that our village has a future, because such young men carry not only strength in their bodies but responsibility in their hearts. After the storm passed and the village breathed again, we knew that this New Year could not pass without thanksgiving. We decided to celebrate life itself. One of the cows that had been rescued from the floods was chosen for the celebration.

It felt symbolic, my dear aunt, as if we were marking survival and gratitude with that act. The elders gave their blessings and the village gathered together. There was no sadness in it, only unity and thankfulness for being alive to see another year.

Food was prepared in abundance and the air soon filled with rich smells that made even the tired forget their exhaustion. People came carrying calabashes, pots and plates, sharing whatever they had. Mama Saida, as you well know, had been busy long before the rains came.

Her local brew was ready, and as always, it lived up to her reputation. People say her beer is lethal, but sweet, and that night it warmed hearts and loosened tongues. As the elders we sat together, sipping slowly, telling stories of past New Years, while the younger ones laughed and listened.

Do not worry, my dear aunt, it was the grown people who drank, while the children enjoyed porridge and roasted meat, running about with joy now that the danger had passed. The sound of drums soon followed, steady and inviting. Songs rose into the night air, mixing with the fresh smell of rainsoaked earth.

My dear aunt, for a moment, it felt as if the ancestors themselves had come down to sit among us, listening and smiling. My wife was especially happy that night. She glowed in the presence of loved ones, moving from group to group, laughing freely, her face shining in the firelight.

I watched her and felt my heart soften, remembering the many years we have walked together through hardship and happiness alike. As the night deepened, dancing began. My dear aunty, I will not lie to you, I danced too. Slowly at first, my old bones reminding me of my age, but the rhythm pulled me in.

My wife laughed as she took my hand and together, we remembered our younger days, when our feet were quicker and our nights longer. We danced until late, surrounded by voices, drums and stars, celebrating not just a new year, but survival, family and the unbroken spirit of Ukumbisiganga.

Eventually, tiredness claimed us. One by one, people began to leave for their homes, carrying leftovers and memories, leaving the young people to continue celebrating. When my wife and I finally retired to bed, my body ached, but my heart was full.

As I lay there listening to the quiet that followed such a loud celebration, I whispered thanks once more, to Limatunda, to the ancestors, and to life itself. I slept deeply, resting my tired old bones, grateful to wake up in a new year with my family safe around me.

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That, Aunt Sophia, is how we welcomed the New Year here in our beloved village. Though you were far away, you were in our thoughts. We spoke your name, wondering how you were celebrating and hoping that one day you will sit with us again under these same stars.

Until then, may the ancestors watch over you, may Chief Mirambo’s spirit guide you and may Limatunda grant you health and peace. Receive warm greetings from everyone here in Ukumbisiganga. We miss you dearly.