The Kingdom of Watetu and Songaland: An African Fairy Tale

Ltarau

About the Author

Ntailan Lolkoki is an activist and writer who, together with her partner, lives in Berlin. She travels to Africa to speak in schools against female genital mutilation (FGM). As a writer she has narrated her childhood, having gone through FGM. She continues to write books on the subject educating people and raising awareness against FGM.

Dedication

I dedicate this book to victims of FGM around the world as well as victims of other practices against the human rights.

Copyright Information ©

Ntailan Lolkoki (2021)

The right of Ntailan Lolkoki to be identified as author of this work has been asserted by the author in accordance with section 77 and 78 of the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the prior permission of the publishers.

Any person who commits any unauthorised act in relation to this publication may be liable to criminal prosecution and civil claims for damages.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

A CIP catalogue record for this title is available from the British Library.

ISBN 9781398404878 (Paperback)

ISBN 9781398404885 (ePub e-book)

www.austinmacauley.com

First Published (2021)

Austin Macauley Publishers Ltd

25 Canada Square

Canary Wharf

London

E14 5LQ

Acknowledgement

First and foremost, I would like to thank God for having brought me this far and for further guidance in creativity to enlighten people. Secondly, my gratitude goes to Austin Macauley for allowing me to have yet another voice against FGM. Not forgetting my partner Wolfgang Weber, for his love and support in good and in bad times, and of course, all the victims of FGM, whose pain has served as an inspiration, especially my own dear sister, Esther, whose trauma, I have personally experienced and has been part of the inspiration for this book.

Prologue

Once upon a time, a time before the spread of colonialism in Africa, a time when Africans were in charge of their destinies, at least the men, there were two African tribes that lived close to each other.

The story takes place in the Kingdom of Watetu and Songaland, two kingdoms separated by a set of hills, with one tribe living on one side and the other tribe living on the other side of the hill. The tribes which were originally one eventually became separated by their sexual practices, which brought about havoc, bridging a gap between them a gap that the prince and the princess of both the tribes fought against, almost losing their lives. Their sacrifices paid off in the end as their tribes reunited.

Chapter One

Nguteyo the Cutter

The cutters were extremely ugly women with many wrinkles. They were so ugly that every time they came to visit a manyatta the small children would burst out into tears. One morning, the weather was beautiful, the sky was clear and the birds were singing. It had just rained and the ground was already a bit hard, the aroma of its freshness permeating throughout the environment, an equally wonderful time for the animals and people.

The children who were also in a great mood started to sing and dance, reflecting the weather at the place they were looking after the goats, underneath the Ngumo hills, a set of hills that divided the two tribes. The Watetu on the one side and the Songa on the other side.

Suddenly, Princess Bibi, who was on top of a tree, said, We all should take the goats for water today.

Every other day the children drove their goats to a lake under the Ngumo hill, as this was a part of their duty. The goats, which were everywhere, were many.

One hundred and fifty belonging to Nkoshepe, the King of Songaland, and another hundred and fifty belonging to Nkishipi, the King of the Watetu, were difficult to handle as they were thirsty and running around wildly.

Princess Mpeki, who had an impulse to look to the left side where the holy tree was, became amazed.

The tree is designated only to the elders for the purpose of seeking wisdom from the ancestors.

It actually seems as though Nguteyo the cutter is worshipping the forbidden god underneath the tree. She is certainly not worshipping the God of the Watetu, she is worshipping sheitan, the god that created hate, famine and wars, completely lost in trance, she is screaming mguu, mguu, mguu!

Prince Ltarau, Princess Bibi said.

Yes, what does the Princess of Watetu want with me this time.

Shhh, careful, you do not want to be heard by Nguteyo, you Songaner. Do you not know how to be discreet?

Look!

It was about ten o’clock in the morning.

Ltarau quickly climbed up the tree on which Princess Bibi was, and actually saw for himself with his own eyes, that indeed Nguteyo was dancing around the designated tree.

She seems to not have good intentions, he said.

She is praying to the gods of the underworld, said Princess Mpeki.

It is not acceptable what she is doing. What are we going to do, Ltarau asked.

We better climb down before she notices us, she will surely send us terrible nightmares as a curse because she will think that we did not respect her.

In both cultures, respect was an important attribute, and regardless of the fact that the two had caught Nguteyo worshipping the forbidden god, it seemed disrespectful to expose her. The children were left with no choice but to forget the matter for the time being as though it had never happened.

This was the first time that Princess Mpekibi realised that the mutilation of their private genitals was wrong.

From Ltarau, the Prince of Songaland, she had already found out that a woman’s sexuality played a great role in a woman’s life. But out of respect for each other, both the tribes were not allowed to speak about their sexual lives. It was not just a great taboo to talk about sexuality, one indeed dared not even think about it!

The children were left with no other choice than to forget the matter altogether. How in the world was Princess Mpeki going to convince her tribe about what they had seen?

It was just a matter of time until the issue came up again, it happened at Impayana’s mutilation ceremony, Princess Bibi’s best friend.

Impayana’s Mutilation

Two weeks had already passed after the incident with Nguteyo, and it was already time for another mutilation ceremony.

At the same time, the rainy season had begun, so it was not that much fun to be in the forest looking after goats. Every day the children would get stuck having to pull the animals out of the mud, it became horrible looking after the goats in the forest. In fact, every evening after coming home, the children looked like they had been dragged out by slave drivers wanting to take them away by force. During this time, Princess Bibi was not in the position to spy on Nguteyo because she had a lot to do.

It rained for days, and although the children tried their best to protect themselves from the rains, they were unable to,every day they were all dripping in water by the time they came home. The first thing they had to do was to sit around a fire out of the manyatta, a place specifically designated for the purpose of warming the children coming home from looking after the animals to warm themselves.

Finally, the awaited day of the ceremony arrived, and already early at dawn, mamas from the Watetu tribe had gone to Impayana’s homestead singing their way there. They were there to give advice to Impayana on her special day, a normal duty for the Watetu women on the day of mutilation. Since all the women had gone through FGM, because of it, some of them were bitter and gave bad advice, so that the girl would experience exactly or even worse trauma than they had gone through.

The morning on the day of mutilation, however, was particularly beautiful, not at all fitting to that which was going to happen, the heavens were beautifully red, and from every direction a cock crowd.

Don’t you know what day this is, Princess Bibi silently said underneath her breath so as to not be heard by the mamas who were joyfully singing around the manyatta.

Shut up, she said to the cocks.

"Maybe the women will think that something is wrong and the mutilation will be postponed.

They would think, the day is cursed and I would have time to save my best friend.

In the tribe, it happened that with the crowing of the cock, everyone would wake up and start with their duties for the day.

Princess Bibi was also already at the manyatta, fearfully waiting for her best friend’s initiation.

Nguteyo, an important person at the mutilation ceremony was naturally also already there, dressed in a special attire, painted from head to toe and dancing around the mutilation hut in the same manner she was dancing in the forest – her eyes blood red.

She must have been dancing the whole night in the forest, Princess Mpekibi thought. After the dance, she went into the ceremonial hut to examine Impayana.

Today is your special day, she said in a hoarse voice, and you are clean, I see.

Right then, Princess Bibi, who wanted to be there to support her best friend, went into the hut to ask if she could be around during the ceremony.

Of course not, this is nothing for young girls, Nguteyo said ironically.

Ignoring Nguteyo, Princess Bibi quickly rushed to her friend and hugged her.

I won’t cause any trouble, she pleaded with Nguteyo who shook her head with disbelief.

You are insistent, Nguteyo said, remain in the hut for a while.

It is time! Nguteyo said shortly afterwards. You need to get out!

Princess Mpekibi had a fright, it seemed like a death penalty.

If this is how I’m feeling, I wonder what Impayana must be going through, Princess Bibi thought. She was walking out of the hut, her heart pounding so fast she thought she would faint.

In the meantime, some mamas from outside were already feeding Impayana with meratina, an alcoholic beer made out of honey from bees, a beer that is drunk during traditional festivals. This was to make her drunk and minimise her fears concerning the mutilation until Nguteyo asked for a knife.

Two of you mamas, stay behind to hold the girl, Nguteyo said, looking very serious.

Make sure she does not move, we must do a good job of purifying her.

After that, the initiation took