The Legend of Tapkendi

There is no honor in that! Bows and arrows, these are the weapons of the Okiek, the hunters, the elephant killers.

There is now way mother, we cannot do that.

She thought back to how it was, three weeks ago as she had gotten the idea. As she was standing overlooking the Murkusi River. Thinking back to the night before.

Placentas? Is there no low that they will submit my children to. She gave no thought to the fact that the other villagers despised her. It did not matter that they called her panan, that they had nicknamed her Tapanan, she that is poor. But surely not her children, did not the customs say that they belonged to the tribe? Were they not to be treated like the children of other homes? Actually, is that not what Kipsundet is about, giving thanks to God? As a community. By feasting together did they not acknowledge the abundace of Cheptalil? And were her children not part of the community, were they not also the children of Asis? Were they not fit to eat meat like the rest?

Hargh!

She turned her thoughts away, lest a tear come to her eye.

She gazed across the river, taking notice of the cattle that she had barely glanced at before. Maasai cattle. Well fed and content. 

On her ancestors grazing grounds. Her peoples land.

She saw the warriors, bedecked in red, their long locks flowing in the wind, play-jumping as they tended to the herd. Serious jest.

The Maasai were unlike any foes her people had met before. Generations of Kalenjin warriors had roamed these very plains. From Cherangani to Suswa, Kamasia to Kony, they had challenged and subdued every foe. None had come before that could wield the spear better than than the muren, the warrior age-sets that had passed through the eons.

Then the Maasai came. Even now, more than a hundred years later, tales of the first encounters were told. Tales of a people who came with spears with blades that seemed to large. Spears that the Kalenjin had initially laughed at. Till the Maasai jumped. No shield could resist the plunge. Thrust from on high by a screaming warrior, face painted red with ochre.

The muren of that generation were all but wiped out. The carnage had been so devastating, so absolute that the elders of the day had decreed that the name of their age-set be wiped from record.

The Maasai had swept down from the north, taking the Sergoit and later the Suswa grazing grounds. They had stormed villages and pillaged districts. They had swept all that was before them.

That was in the days of old, the Kalenjin had since adopted the Maasai spears. The spears of old were now only used by the aged warriors and elders. For more than forty years, the muren had used the ng'otit, the broad bladed Maasai spear. Warriors had been born into it's use and graduated to moterenik, teachers of those that followed. And yet the Kalenjin muren could still not wield the spear as the Maasai did.

It was then that it struck her.

But why should they?

Her mind was brought back to the present by the insistent nay-saying of her son.

Mother, please understand. I respect your wisdom, but not only is it impractical, it is disgraceful. From the time of Kipkenyo and before we have used the spear, for honor in the battle-field can only be found man to man. You are my mother and you gave me life but you are a woman. You would not understand.

Hmm. Men. So blinded by what was, so enamoured with concepts whose time has passed. She would leave it for another day. Her son would come around.

She spent the next few weeks perfecting her plan, she took note of features she had seen many a time but never paid attention to on her way to trade with the Maasai women. Paths and plains, forest and glades, for all were central to her plan.

Finally one day she brought her sons round her, kassa iit, listen to me with both ears. They knew it must be important. It was the only time she started like that.

My children, this world only understands wealth, without it you are nothing. You are grown enough to see how we are treated in the village. Am I lying?

No mother... they mumbled, this sounded ominous

I am not, they treat you this way for we have nothing. Long ago, the herds of the Kalenjin were more numerous than the raindrops of Tinderet. Fathers had enough cattle to pay for dowry and in homesteads where the herd was small, muren found glory in the battle-field, seeking cattle to pay the bride price. Is this not so? Did your grandmother not tell you of these tales when she was alive?

Yes mother... the elder had started getting an inkling that this had something to do with the conversation from a few weeks back

My sons, listen to me, you know that your father left his herd to his first family, this you know. It has been six years since you were initiated and here you stand in my house, unmarried. It is not right.

Her second son spoke up, he reminded her of her uncle, he was just as burly and just as bold, What you say is true mother but what can we do? We are working hard to raise our dowries and as even you know, there are precious few lands to raid, we cannot very well go and raid the Maasai now, can we?

The first born saw the trap his mother had laid just as his brother fell into it.

She gave more detail to her plan from before. This time her three youngest sons were convinced. The eldest had to go along.

A few weeks later, Tapanan walked across the Murkusi. Her heart was pounding for her plan had begun. She walked a short distance before disrobing and tying some cow bells to her arms and legs.

She then started singing and skipping down the path, mad as far as anyone could see. And see her they did, first the children who pointed and giggled, then the women folk who were working and chatting outside their homesteads. They were embarrased and started hushing the children but could not help themselves when this woman started having a conversation about buying goats with a young boy. They hid their giggles, relived as she jumped further along the paths to the fields.

The Maasai warriors on the fields were as alert as you would be with lions in the bush around you, so it was not long before they heard the clinking of the bells. A raid? Who would dare? They run in the direction of their village.

They were charged, ready to take on whatever foe this was that was foolish enough to... they came to a standstill as they came across Tapanan along the path. It took them a while to understand what it was they were seeing before breaking out in peals of laughter. They laughed at the woman, they laughed at each other for having been so wrong, they laughed at Lelit for he had sounded scared as they were coming. They laughed till tears were rolling freely down their eyes.

Meanwhile, Tapanan's sons had been hiding in the bush close to the Maasai grazing fileds. As soon as the warriors had run of to check on the commotion, they had come out of the hiding places, rounded up the herd and drove it up into the hills.

The Maasai soon heard the bells and lowing of their cattle as they were driven off, they dashed back toward the grazing fields.

As they did, Tapanan shed her bells and ran of to her homestead.

The Maasai warriors on reaching the grazing grounds found the cattle gone but they could here them in the distance. They started running in that direction.

As they approached the foot of the hills, a few friends that Tapanan's sons had managed to convince to come along stood up and loosed a hail of arrows, landing them right into the midst of the running Maasai warriors. They came to a halt, then run and ducked while looking for cover.

The chase was up.

The Maasai would not be getting their cattle back.

With these cattle Tapanan became not only the wealthiest person in the entire district but also became the hero of the village. She was respected for she did not treat the villagers as they had treated her and her family. Instead she called a great feast to celebrate the success of the raid.

She taught the Kalenjin the military tactics that had led to the success of her raid and they were soon able to defeat the Maasai and get their land back again. For this reason the people started calling her Tapkendi, she who leads. Her sons got beautiful wives and bore many more sons and they came to be called the men of Kapchepkendi.