Moses Wambi looks at Mount Elgon, also known as Masaba, which towers over Mbale City, and he knows his time of reckoning has come. His peers refer to him as a son of the soil, but he is one step away from becoming a man among the Bamasaba or Bagisu, a tribe that occupies part of Mount Elgon.
He has turned 20 years old and is on his way to the Imbalu, a circumcision ceremony that serves as a passage for boys to become men. This is an even year when circumcision takes place, and Wambi’s elders and relatives are eagerly awaiting his biggest moment.
The drums beat, and cheers and ululations fill the air. The boys and girls, wriggling their waists with rhythmic and wanton abandon, steal the show on the dusty roads. Their impressive footwork would make footballers at Premiership clubs like Liverpool FC in the UK envious as they danced to Kadodi music. This charming music makes some girls go crazy as they abandon their babies at home for days.
It is true that you have to be born among the Bamasaba to melt into this carnival in the mountains. This inviting mood lifts people off their feet even without thinking about it. “I do not care if you deny me food, but give me a chance to dance to Kadodi,” says Mary Nandudu, a teenage mother in Mbale. “It awakens our spirits, and the fanfare feeds the soul.”
Wambi’s entourage will stay on their feet for three weeks, dancing, feasting, and drinking booze with reckless abandon in parts of Mbale. Every passing day brings Wambi closer to circumcision. The parents on his mother’s and father’s sides will have to make it happen, as they provide chickens, goats, and cattle, as well as other gifts. The elders will bless the activities at an official grand ceremony at Mutoto in Mbale City in August, allowing the circumcision to proceed between August and December. However, the surgeons get into action as soon as a new year is born. That is the first day of the year, or January 1st of an even year.
On their special days, people apply cosmetics, but the circumcision candidates smear themselves with fermented millet and fresh dung from either a goat or a cow. Before the procession moves forward, the candidates for circumcision apply this paste to their faces and skin. Is this a form of camouflage, or is it a way to prepare the man emerging from Wambi to face the challenges of life? I kept on wondering. However, I understand that his ancestors have handed down the practice, and he does not have to get the answers.
The circumcision candidates move in shorts and bare chests with strings of beads hanging on their torsos. The young men appear to have nothing to hide from their future wives and the girls next door. It is a scene cut from the past, before the modern era sprang up in the villages.
Once the surgeon takes the floor, he will unleash his razor-sharp knife and look into Wambi’s eyes. Wambi has to endure the pain without shaking, and once the surgeon gets done, Wambi will dance for the first time as a man in this part of the world.
“I cannot wait for the day I will be sitting at the table of men,” says Wambi. “I am taking one step at a time, and it is now a matter of time.”
The economic hardships have reduced the processions from three weeks to as few as three days, or even one day. Their wealthier counterparts, such as Wambi, are now rare species, with most people preferring to reduce the fanfare to three days.
Additionally, there are instances where parents choose to circumcise their sons in health centres, bypassing the traditional rituals and avoiding public scrutiny or declarations.
“From time immemorial, such people are not considered brave men,” says Apollo Masika, MP for Namisindwa South, adding that in the health centres they are sedated and will not feel the pain. “In the elders meeting, you do not sit at the table, and consultation on certain matters is not considered. You are not considered a man.”
He added, “If you have reached a ripe age and you are not circumcised, we shall come for you. Whether you are in the army, police, or Nairobi, Kenya, we have to organise and come for you.”
It is considered cool to circumcise men in cultures outside the Bamasaba, meaning that the Bamasaba have set the pace for the rest of Uganda and the world.
Origin
Oral legends claim that a Kalenjin tribe demanded the circumcision of Masaba, the hero ancestor of Bamasaba, so he could marry one of their daughters.
In another legend, it is said that a Masaai lady, not Kalenjin, is the one who turned the tables and sent Bamasaba to face the knives.
Conflicting versions of the legend assert that a Mugisu, who persistently engaged in sexual relations with his neighbours’ wives, underwent circumcision as a means to curb this vice among the Bagisu. After the circumcision, the Mugisu man continued his escapades, which in turn encouraged other Bagisu to popularise the practice of circumcision.
The first Mugisu ancestor was Mundu, also known as Muntu. Mundu and his wife, Seera, are believed to have emerged from a hole on Mount Elgon, also known as Masaba. The couple produced two sons, Masaba and Kundu (a hunter who disappeared into the wilderness). Kintu, who was the first Muganda, is believed to have come from Mount Elgon.
While the Bamasaba dominate Mt. Elgon in terms of population, the Sabiny also occupy parts of Elgon in Kapchorwa. Mt. Elgon National Park protects the forests, home to the Benets, also known as Ndorobos, a minority group.
The national parks also cover parts of Mount Elgon in Kenya. This has created an extensive trans-boundary conservation area, which the UNESCO World Heritage Centre has declared a UNESCO Man and Biosphere Reserve. Bagisu or Babukusu also live in Kenya’s Mt. Elgon National Park neighbourhood.
