How I was cheated out of MoU

There was no way I was going to get a fair trial from such a tribunal. I therefore called my wife to join me at least so that I can have one person on my side. ILLUSTRATION | JOHN NYAGAH

What you need to know:

  • We could not agree on who would go first but after some hustling and balloting, I emerged the person to go first. So last year March, I took some loan from Mwisho wa Lami Teachers Association and tilled the land.
  • The rains came and I planted, and started praying for a bumper harvest later.  From the look of things, I would be able to get at least 40 bags. Even if I gave my parents five sacks, I would still laugh all the way to the bank.
  • “Dre I don’t know why we are fighting over someone’s land when you can buy your own,” she said. “Let us buy our own land.” My parents were happy to hear that, with my mother showing full support.

If there is one thing my father, Mzee Caleb, and many fathers of his age are blessed with, it is land. A visitor to Mwisho wa Lami Village who listens to them will be mistaken to think that our fathers were so hard working that they bought a lot of land. The truth is that, like my many other fathers, he only inherited all this land from Amos, my grandfather.

But hearing my father speak, you would think that he actually bought all the land himself. One day a few years ago, I approached him to ask for my share of the land. I must have been “toxic” at the time I asked because my father is not the type of person you go to see over a sensitive matter like that while sober. The old man listed to me without talking, or even nodding. He was expressionless. I did not need a calculator to know that I would not get a response: Positive or negative. I changed the topic.

Later that day, once he had taken his drinks, he came back singing how he had not sold his land like his other friends, and now his sons were claiming part of it.

“I can still sell the land, watafanya?” he wondered, half talking, half singing. While he later showed Pius, Ford and I small portions on which to build our houses, he remained with a bigger, fertile portion that my mother farms year in year out. In the last few years though, the yield from the farm has been on the decline mainly because my parents have been planting the same thing – maize – year in year out.

We had been telling them that we could put the land to better use but they would not listen, I guess because my father feared that whoever farmed on the land would not only make good money from it but would also take it for good.

LUSH PLANTATION

Last year, Pius, Ford and I convinced the old man – and his woman – that they should allow us to till the land, and that in return, we will make sure they are well fed. It was not easy to agree on that since my father at first hit the roof when we first asked.

And the worst that Ford did was to remind him that he had inherited the land from my grandfather.

“This is the only thing I inherited from mzee,” he said. “I took you to school and you have nice jobs, something my father did not do,” he reminded us. Ford and I told him only Pius had a nice job, as teaching and guarding prisoners for this government are not jobs but things that keep us busy from idleness. After further discussion and negotiations, we agreed that as the sons of Mzee Caleb, we would farm the land as long as we took care of our parents. We agreed that each of us would till the land for one season, and then hand over to the next person. The person tilling the land that year would after the harvest, give my parents five sacks of maize.

We could not agree on who would go first but after some hustling and balloting, I emerged the person to go first. So last year March, I took some loan from Mwisho wa Lami Teachers Association and tilled the land. The rains came and I planted, and started praying for a bumper harvest later.  From the look of things, I would be able to get at least 40 bags. Even if I gave my parents five sacks, I would still laugh all the way to the bank.

The maize were green, lush and blossoming. Until one day in mid-May. There was heavy rains and hailstorms destroying the crop quite extensively. Not everything was destroyed though but I had to forget about the 40 bags.

I continued taking care of the maize but come early July, at the height of the annual hunger that affects Mwisho wa Lami, everyone attacked my farm. No, not thieves, but my family. Breakfast was boiled maize, lunch was roasted maize and in between there was just excessive boiling and roasting of maize – including after supper. And whenever any person visited us, my mother would send Branton to go get the visitor some maize as a gift.

I could not say anything. I tried one day and got the wrath of my mother.

“Unaringa na mahindi na shamba sio yako, ingekuwa yako ungeuwa mtu hata akisonga Karibu na shambaa,” she said.

I tried to explain to her that we had to wait until the maize is harvested but she would hear none of that.

“Unataka tulale njaa na mahindi imejaa shambani?” she asked. “Hata tusipotoa kidogo bado wezi wataiba.” I gave up.

The maize had been eaten so much that by the time we harvested, I only managed eight bags, just three better than my mother usually gets.

FAIR TRIAL

In light of this, I told my brothers that one had to till the land for at least three years before the next person takes over. I told them via SMS, that none of them responded to.

This year, I proceeded and tilled the land, ploughing and re-ploughing. And then waited for the rains. When the rains started two weeks ago, I had no money for seeds and fertiliser. Last weekend, Pius travelled home. We never talked much.

But last Monday, I woke up to a rude shock. Pius was in the farm planting. With him were a few villagers he had paid to plant for him. On the farm I have ploughed and re-ploughed. I was mad. Also helping him was my mother and father.

“Pius,” I called. “I am the one who ploughed this land.”

My mother had already sensed that I was going to make noise, so she didn’t even let me talk.

“Ulilima shamba yako ama yetu?” she asked.

I ignored her and went to Pius.

“We agreed that I made no money last year so I must do it for three years,” I said.

“When did we agree?” he asked. “We only agreed one year.”

My father came and overruled us, saying that we could not argue with workers around. “We can discuss this later in the evening,” he said. I left, disappointed.

Before the meeting that evening, I passed by Hitler to get confidence. There was my father, my mother and Pius when I go back home. Also in the house was my sister Yunia. You may need to know that Yunia disagreed with her husband and has been staying with my aunt for about a year.

She had travelled that day. There was no way I was going to get a fair trial from such a tribunal. I therefore called my wife to join me at least so that I can have one person on my side.

LOST FIGHT

I told them how we had agreed to use the land.

“We never discussed tilling of the land three years,” said Pius. “It was always one year.”

“Wachana na hiyo,” said my mother. “Did you give me the five sacks we agreed on?” she asked. I told her that I only harvested eight bags and couldn’t give her five.

“Umeona?” she said.

“But you ate a lot of the maize before it was harvested,” I said. “You ate 10 bags.”

“Hata haikukuwa gunia moja,” my mother shouted back. Yunia also joined in even before my mother could finish.

“We the girls also want to be tilling this land,” she said. Cleary they had planned against me. My father ignored her and asked what Fiolina thought.

“Let us also hear from my daughter,” he said.

“Dre I don’t know why we are fighting over someone’s land when you can buy your own,” she said. “Let us buy our own land.” My parents were happy to hear that, with my mother showing full support.

“Watu wanunue shamba zao,” she said. “hata wewe Pius nunua yako.” Pius tried to argue that he had spent money on seeds and fertiliser but he was reminded that I had equally spent money on ploughing. And that is how we lost our fight for the land. What is hurting for me is how my wife abandoned me at my hour of need. Let us see who will pay her fees next term!