Territory wars

Four thirty in the afternoon was the time. I stopped my truck at where seemed to be a battlefield. The sun was still scorching, as is the norm in Arabian desert summers. Four resident dogs were barking off a pack of eight traveling outlaws. The home group was outnumbered, maybe some were out hunting. Two of them seem to be less than a year old. Not puppies, but not adults yet. I don't understand dog language but I assumed the juveniles were seconding their parent's threats to the visiting ones that “The others will soon come, you better run for your safety.” They barked as they went up and down on a raised ground, probably collected sand and arranged by the desert dweller whose land belonged to.

The stray dogs didn't seem to be scared by the threats. They knew their strength in numbers, and probably the weakness of their neighbors to cross over to their territory. They advanced carefully making the resident pack uneasy and their barking intensified. The alpha male from the rogue pack continued further, he had to show his pack that he was fearless and he was the leader. He went closer to the weaker resident dogs, raised one of his rear legs, and urinated. This was the height of uchokozi. You are only allowed to do that to mark your territory in the dog world.

I was watching all this drama across the wind screen of my truck. Lately I had developed an interest in the life of dogs. I had downloaded numerous documentaries on YouTube about Coyotes, wild dogs, fox, and wolves. The constitution and laws in these different species are almost the same. As a child, I didn't like them. Once on my rounds looking for mangoes around Port-Reitz area I was chased by two until I reached a group of people sitting. Six years ago, a guy who gave a lift in his car dropped me off at a crossroad in a desert, five kilometers away from town. And after walking about a kilometer, I met carcass eating desert dogs who immediately started following the second they saw me. My heart was in my mouth. But luckily, another car appeared from behind and saved me.

There are around three dog families in our current camp. I like puppies, I find them adorable. I have learnt to live with them. The only reason I don't touch them is because I will have to wash myself seven times, one with sand, to consider myself clean again.

Somehow, when it comes to protecting women, man laws have similarities with dog's. I remember in our early adulthood when we would revel in strolling. My buddies Sebastian, Robert and i, in strange far estates to hunt for girls. Once we were stopped by Arab boys who didn't want our threat in their neighborhood and it almost grew to a war. We stood our ground. This land belongs to God, and nobody was going to intimidate us.

Wandering boys always seem to have bad intent. To seduce our girls, impregnate them, then escape. It remains to be a shame for the family, especially to men. And to the neighborhood boys, it's an insult. The message from alien boys is that we aren't men enough. They can seduce our girls and there's nothing we can do about it. They can beat us in our own own turf. They make us feel impotent.

There was a very good looking boy who came hunting in our area. He was what we called lover-boys back then. He was handsomely dressed, always seemed clean and smart and smiling all the time. His name was George, and he had managed to trap Mwanasha on his bait. Although he seemed good at heart, he didn't have the courtesy to take the girl out of our sight to exchange their love smiles and public romantic touches. This angered “The boys.” And one day, we had to embarrass him in front of the princess. We had canes cut out from a guava tree. A four man army approached the enemy and started questioning if they didn't have girls in their neighborhood. What are you trying to show us? What do you really want from her?....and before he could answer anything, Mwamburi had thrown the first strike. As he turned I whipped him right on his buttocks and he fled before the worst happened to him. We chased him for about two hundred meters then returned back. And that was the last we saw of him on our estate.

Being adults now, we don't go around strange backgrounds showing off our masculinity. We meet girls in functions, parties or over the internet. Most of our adulthood relationships are a result of being introduced by our friends.

A friend I schooled with invited me to her wedding. I employed the company of my cousin(May he rest in peace) who was living around Likoni because it's near and I expected him to know the area and routes very well. We started asking around, I think it was Bomani village. And after an hour we were right where the wedding was taking place.

After sitting on the far corner for about ten minutes, I thought it would be better for the bride to know that she invited me and I came. This turned out to be a naive and foolish idea. I had asked one man who sat beside me if it was possible to go inside and say hi to the bride. He asked, “Are you his former boyfriend or what?” I answered him that I was just a friend. He didn't seem to believe it. So he started lecturing:- The boys of today cant let go even if a girl is getting married. If she was your girl, that was in the past. Do you have to come even to her wedding leave alone wanting to meet her? What do you want to do with her?

I assured the man that I didn't have any ignoble motive and he gave me a very stern look as if to say, “i know what you are up to.” My cousin was impatient at this time and he whispered to me that we should better leave. The man told us to look at the guys preparing the stage and others involved in the wedding preparations. Those are his brothers and cousins, he said. When they see you here, they will whip your ass off. I knew he was trying to get me scared. I was by that time, but I didn't want to show it. I asked him why because I had done nothing wrong? But he kept on mounting threat after threat until my cousin stood up and said he would leave me there if I continued staying.

This man seemed to be far related to the wedding family, yet he took it upon himself to “guard” the bride from outside predators. I wasn't one, but he was determined to make me miss the wedding lunch. He began raising his voice and at one time he asked if I wanted him to call one the bride's brothers and I realized nothing good will come out of remaining here. I had better consider my safety. I told him good-bye, he replied good bye without looking at me and we marched off like rained on cats who cowardly take another route to escape confrontation with the guard dogs.