Dear nephew Milambo
Greetings from this confused city.
My dear boy, I hope that by the grace of Limatunda you and your beautiful young family are all okay, and I hope that by the protection of the ancestors led by Chief Mirambo all the people in my beloved Ukumbisiganga are all fine. Here in the big city things are okay, actually there is nothing much to write about, but we thank Liwelelo that me any your aunt are all doing okay.
The cold is still persistent in the evenings my dear boy, but during the day the sun shines like it is on an evil mission, and as if that is not punishment enough, the wind and dust can make your life miserable.
But we thank Limatunda that despite all the challenges this confused city has to offer, we are all in good health and spirit, taking things slowly as they come. Your aunt says hallo, and looking at her, I can see that the preparations to come to Tabora are almost complete, and I can tell you for a fact that she is really looking forward to being with you and your family.
I suggested to her that maybe we should travel together and come over to welcome the new baby, but she told me that she prefers coming alone because according to her, I will be in her way.
I don’t know what she meant by that my dear son, but I believe she wants to concentrate in welcoming the new Nyamwezi in the family without having to worry about me all the time.
Actually I don’t mind staying behind and look after the house here while your aunt is there, and it is not that I don’t want to be there when your new child comes, but you know women, they do not want any distractions when it comes to babies, so I will respect her decision and stay put.
So if all goes well, I think your aunt will be in Ukumbisiganga by the end of this month, although I will give you the proper date after I confirm with her. My dear son, yesterday we buried a certain fellow who was my neighbour near baba Joshua’s house, the house where they have parked a good number of old vehicles, I think you might remember the place.
I have met the fellow several times and we were always courteous to each other, and I remember the last time we met was at the local bar near the playing ground, where we had several beers together.
I remember that day we talked for a very long time over cold drinks, and I have to admit that the chap had a smart head between his shoulders.
Anyway, I was surprised a few day ago when our Mjumbe, that nosy woman who always wears party colours informed us early in the morning that the fellow had kicked the bucket, and that his ancestors had summoned him after what they termed a ‘short illness’.
Like good neighbours, that evening me and your aunt went to join other neighbours to offer our condolences to the widow of the fellow (his name was Alfaxad). We made appearances at the new widow’s house several times until two days ago before they buried him yesterday at the cemetery near the military camp. I don’t know if it is correct to say that things were going well at the house of the new widow until two days ago, when the peace that was reigning was broken by some people who came and claimed that they knew the deceased.
My dear boy, all hell broke loose when a woman who resembles a retired wrestler claimed that she was the wife of the deceased, and that she had the right to bury her husband.
She was accompanied by a group of about ten people, and we were told that the group included two grown boys who were the sons of the deceased.
The widow, the one that we all recognised as the legal wife of the deceased, was not ready to take all these allegations lying down, and before any of us could react, she was on top of the new ‘widow’, punching like a professional boxer.
My dear son, it took the intervention of several mourners to stop that fight, because the two boys who were supposed to be the sons of the deceased joined the fray after they saw that their mother was being overpowered, which brought the wrath of the sons of the winning widow, who also entered the fight against their unknown ‘brothers’.
We managed to calm the tempers and I suggested that we should at least take time to listen to the claims of the woman, who went on to say that she was also legally married to the late Alfaxad, and that the two grown boys were good enough evidence of her claim.
From what I gathered from the narration of that woman who resembles a retired wrestler, it was obvious that Alfaxad had been a busy man without the knowledge of his wife, because looking at the two boys, it was difficult to ignore the fact that they looked exactly like the deceased.
Anyway, after it was established that indeed the retired wrestler had two sons with the deceased, the next step was for her to prove that she was legally married to the deceased before his ancestors summoned him.
She told us that in her hurry to come over and ‘introduce’ herself to the other family, she forgot to carry her marriage certificate, which she claimed she had.
She brought further complications after she said that because it has been established that indeed she had children with the deceased, and which is enough proof that she was married to the fellow, then as a legal wife she wanted to bury her husband by Muslim rituals.
My dear boy, I thank Limatunda that we managed to put the late Afaxad to rest without any further complications, but this was because the cemetery was surrounded by heavily armed police men who were summoned before more deaths could be reported.