Riding the Ungo

An Ungo is a winnowing basket used mainly to clean beans, maize or rice. Often not using the wind as to clear husks from seeds but to remove stones or damaged seeds. And it is an art to use them correctly.

There is something else about the Ungo. Jini(s) ride them! What is a Jini?
Well a Jini is an evil spirit that has taken the body of a person, and the Ungo is their mode of travel. I don't really know what a Jini is but it is something like that - and they don't always travel on the Ungo.
Oh yes? It is when young Nai first told me about having seen a Jini, I gave the understanding smile - Nai was but seven years and had seen the Jini up a tree beside the river.
There was a wire crossing the river and some of the children used the wire to cross the river (I actually did not see the setup but the description was that there were two wires - one to walk on and one to hold on to).
The next day, the wire broke as children were crossing and two died. This I was told was the work of the Jini!
Accidents happen.

Sometime later, I heard a report over the local radio station - in news bulletin.
A man driving a new Toyota double cabin stopped to pick up (give a lift to) a beautiful girl. Once in the car and along the road a little, the beautiful girl turned into a leopard! The man stopped the car in panic and ran off. The beautiful girl drove off in the car.

Sometime not so long ago, there was a report in the Arusha Times newspaper - a very reputable newspaper - that a Jini had arrived in Arusha town suburb having flown from the town of Moshi. He was stoned by locals.

Mama Baraka went to the funeral of her friend's sister at the village of Ngaremotoni. Three days after the funeral, the close friends gathered as part of the wake to sit together to honour the deceased.
Three women were preparing food for the wake when suddenly they became aware of an old man - mzee - sitting on a jiko - a small, encased cooking fire. The fire was burning and he was eating charcoal; some of it glowing hot. The women tried to speak to him, but he refused to answer, so they called some of the men in but he remained silent.
The men began to beat him with their fimbo - sticks, drawing blood. The man said nothing but drank his own blood.
They took him outside and tied his hands together and bent him forward then secured the rope around his neck. During this time he said that he had come from Moshi.
They tied him to a tree and at midnight, they went out to check on him. He had disappeared! The rope was still tied and uncut!

I asked Mama Baraka what she thought of it 'Sijui.' I don't know.
'A Jini?' I asked.
'Aye.'

I have resolved never to laugh at another culture's food or beliefs - and I stick to that.

There are many more stories like this and as I find them in my diaries I will write them up.