Kintu

From the winner of the Jhalak Prize, 2021

Jennifer Nansubuga Makumbi

• Publisher: Oneworld Publications
• Year: 2018
• eBook ISBN: 9781786073785
• Subtopic: Literatura general

'Ugandan literature can boast of an international superstar in Jennifer Nansubuga Makumbi' Economist

An award-winning debut that vividly reimagines Uganda’s troubled history through the cursed bloodline of the Kintu clan

In this epic tale of fate, fortune and legacy, Jennifer Makumbi vibrantly brings to life this corner of Africa and this colourful family as she reimagines the history of Uganda through the cursed bloodline of the Kintu clan.

The year is 1750. Kintu Kidda sets out for the capital to pledge allegiance to the new leader of the Buganda kingdom. Along the way he unleashes a curse that will plague his family for generations. Blending oral tradition, myth, folktale and history, Makumbi weaves together the stories of Kintu’s descendants as they seek to break free from the burden of their past to produce a majestic tale of clan and country – a modern classic.

BOOK I

Kintu Kidda

1

Buddu Province, Buganda:

The Moon of Gatonya, 1750

Midnight

It was odd the relief Kintu felt as he stepped out of his house. A long and perilous journey lay ahead. At the end of the journey was a royal storm – the princes had been fighting for the throne again and weapons had not yet been put away. He could be carried back, his head severed from his shoulders – commoners tended to lose their heads when royals fought. Yet, Kintu Kidda, Ppookino of Buddu Province, was glad to step away from his home.

It was Babirye, his other wife.

Kintu had last seen her in the morning, taking the goats to feed on banana peels. Her eyes were angry and he had looked away. Kintu had never found respite in Babirye’s eyes, not even on their wedding day. He thought of the fabled men who unwittingly married spirits, but then dismissed the thought. Babirye was not a demon, just a dreadful woman. He shooed her out of his mind. It would be unwise to carry the extra weight of a glowering wife on this journey.

He paused at the threshold of Mayirika, his principal residence. The world was still. A spray of young stars streaked the sky on his right. On the left, a few lone ones, elderly, blinked tiredly. Around him, the midnight air was cold and calm. Darkness was thick. Fireflies tried to puncture it – on, off, on, off – in vain. Kintu was satisfied with the conditions. It was the reason why he and his men were setting off at midnight. They would make good distance before dawn broke and then there would be a short space when the sun was still lethargic. At midday when the sun started to bake the world, they would stop for the day and sleep until midnight when they would set off again.

From where he stood, Kintu could hear Nnondo, his headman, briefing the men below the courtyard, at the gate. He could not see them but he felt the feverish excitement of the younger men, probably impatient to start the journey. The older men were good at masking their excitement. Kintu touched his short spear, which he kept in a sheath near his stomach. He adjusted his barkcloth and then the leopard skin on top. He stepped away from his threshold.

As he walked across the vast courtyard, two figures scurried out of the older boys’ house. His sons, Kalema and Baale, were late and had missed the briefing. Kalema was going to find work in the capital while Baale wanted to accompany his brother until daybreak when he would return home. Kintu shook his head as they ran past.

‘You two should have been women.’

As his men closed the outer reed gate, something made Kintu look back. The three main houses, now silhouettes, were silent. As instructed, everyone, including his twin wives Nnakato and Babirye, children and servants, were in bed. Yet, he felt someone, something, spying. He hesitated a moment then stepped into the journey.

Kintu was on his way to Lubya to pay homage to Kyabaggu the new kabaka. Kyabaggu had grabbed the throne and announced Lubya Hill as the new capital, claiming that Namugala had abdicated. No one believed him. The ba kabaka did not give away their thrones like that. Until Namugala was pronounced dead, the kingdom stood on its toes with apprehension.

Kintu was travelling with a modest entourage of twenty-five men chosen and led by his headman and trusted guard, Nnondo. All the men were warriors. Kintu did not know what to expect of Kyabaggu but taking a large group of bambowa was reckless. In any case, if Kyabaggu wanted to slay him, the men would not be able to protect him. As a new kabaka who had recently plucked the throne from his own brother, Kyabaggu would be jittery. Kintu was surprised that Kyabaggu had toppled his own mother’s child. Normally, the mother was a binding force among sons, but then again, royals were hardly normal. These were terrible times to be of royal birth. Kings and princes lived the shortest lives. Any prince could stake claim to the throne at any time. The victor often massacred his siblings and cousins. Clever women did not declare their sons as princes. Cleverer women watched the throne and alerted their sons when it was ripe for seizure.

In his service as Ppookino, Kintu had so far served five kings. He remembered Kagulu, the first kabaka he served. In his short reign, Kagulu had slaughtered more subjects than goats. In the quarterly lukiiko, the parliament sessions, governors watched their breath. Kagulu turned like the Nnalubaale Lake – now serene; now agitated; now deadly; now laughing. The gods deserted Kagulu after he put his half-brother, Musanje, to death for killing another brother, Luyenje, while wrestling. Fearing for their lives, Musanje’s brothers, the ones he shared a mother with, fled led by their elder sister Nnassolo and taking Musanje’s three little boys as well.

When Kintu next came for the lukiiko, Kagulu’s palace at Bulizo was eerily silent. It was as if Kagulu was aware that his days were numbered. No one knew where Nnassolo and her siblings had fled. But everyone knew that she was a wrathful princess. Soon after Kintu returned to Buddu, news arrived that Bulizo was under siege. Nnassolo was back rumbling like Kiyira, the Nile. Kagulu fled and Nnassolo pursued him. Kagulu was as swift as a kob on a savannah but Nnassolo was relentless: she wanted his jaw-bone. For a time, Kagulu hid in ditches and caves in Buto region. When he was captured, Kagulu who had put masses to the spear, would not face his own death like a man. Mercifully, Nnassolo had him drowned.

Nnassolo then installed the softly-softly older brother Kikulwe as kabaka. Kintu knew right away that Kikulwe would not last. History showed that kings who fought for the throne kept it longer than those who merely received it, and Kikulwe was naive. As if it would heal the kingdom, he brought music and merriment. He danced too far, too long from his throne and his brother Mawanda snatched it. Kintu laughed as he remembered Mawanda’s excuse: apparently, the gentle Kikulwe had dug a staked pit to kill him.

Mawanda’s reign, though longer and more prosperous, was dogged by rumours sceptical of his royal heritage. Eventually, Musanje’s three sons, the ones he and Nnassolo had fled with, deposed Mawanda. Kintu sucked his teeth. Mawanda had brought up the boys himself! Then the three vipers went on to succeed each other in madness. The eldest, Mwanga, lasted only nine days as ruler despite sacrificing a maternal cousin to guarantee a long reign. The cousin’s enraged father killed him before his buttocks warmed the throne. As Kintu set off to pay homage to Mwanga, Namugala, the second viper, was planning his own elaborate coronation at Naggalabi. During Namugala’s eight-year reign, there was peace and quiet. But Kyabaggu, the youngest viper, was restless. Now, he had pounced. Kintu sighed. Abdication indeed: the way the monarch took subjects for fools!

Kintu put the instability of Buganda’s throne down to the women. Unlike commoners, a kabaka’s children took after their mother’s clan. Though this ensured the distribution of the kabakaship to the different clans in Buganda, the custom bestowed immense power to a king’s mother, the namasole. To protect their position, incumbent king mothers encouraged brothers to inherit the throne. The three vipers shared a mother, Nnabulya. Ruthlessly ambitious, Nnabulya had sowed yearning for the throne in all three young princes. Kintu saw her hand in the malicious slander questioning Mawanda’s royal lineage. But what had she gained? Mwanga was dead, Namugala was exiled, probably dead too, and Kyabaggu was bound to die the same way. Kintu suspected that Nnabulya, who had held rivalling courts during Namugala’s reign, had feared that half-brothers would easily depose her weak son and orchestrated the abdication story. In Kyabaggu, Nnabulya had a third chance to be king mother.

Kintu shook his head. Nnabulya reminded him of his wife Babirye. If only royals looked beyond beauty in their choice of women, perhaps the throne would be more secure. But then, royals were not renowned for their mental prowess. He saw no end to the bloodshed. In spite of all that, Kintu could not wait to get to Lubya and see the royal madness that would be Kyabaggu.

2

The party formed a snaking retinue. They walked downhill from Kintu’s courtyard, through cultivated plots on his land, past silent shadowy houses until they came to the bottom near the well where village residents collected water. The moon, as if shy, still hid behind a cloud. But midnight darkness was beginning to loosen. Kintu looked in the distance but the night yielded no horizon. Yet, to him, the landscape was clear. He knew every rise and fall in the earth, every bush and thicket and every old tree intimately.

By the time the party came to Nswera, a large stream that cut Kiyirika Village off from the rest of Buddu Province, the fireflies had gone to sleep. The moon now tailed them at a distance like a nosy little brother. It was good timing; the walkers needed light to cross the swamp. Nswera was in a huge basin: its edges were steep while the bottom was flat.

Ten men descended into the swamp before Kintu allowed his sons to follow. Inside the swamp, the snores of nature filled the air. Leaves rustled and insects whistled. Closer to the stream, frogs croaked as if hired to perform. The party crossed the stream without a problem and took on the incline to climb out. By the time everyone got out, the moon had drawn closer. Suddenly, Babirye, like an owl, swooped and perched into Kintu’s mind. She loomed large and dark. Kintu contemplated her for a moment then dismissed her.

Four hours later, they were inside Nabweteme, a dense rain forest. The moon, now huge and low, sailed close to the canopy. Its light streaked through the trees. The forest was silent. When Kintu looked up again, the moon was racing ahead as if it had lingered too long in their company. He saw it sink behind the trees and thought, this is how we grow old: by letting the moon and the sun overtake us.

The first part of the forest came to an abrupt end and they broke out into a clearing. Daybreak lay in the distance. Kintu was peering at it when he felt cold air on his head, as if his hair had been swept off. He held his breath – there was no tension among his men. Were they being stalked? But the party was too large to be attacked by wild animals. His mind raced back home to his family but he felt no danger there either. Yet he was certain that something was wrong. He asked his sons, Kalema and Baale, who now trailed somewhere in the party behind him, to walk close to him.

The horizon cracked into scarlet rays. The party had a few precious minutes to enjoy sunrise before entering the second phase of the forest.

Kintu’s mind strayed to his wives, Babirye and Nnakato. He would rather have dealt with mutiny in his army than with Babirye, even though she was a replica of his beloved Nnakato. He never wanted to keep two women in the same house in the first place, not even identical twins.

Tradition claimed that identical twins were one soul who, failing to resolve the primal conflict in the self, split and two people were born. The older twin, named Babirye if it was a girl, was supposedly the original soul. Nnakato, the younger twin, was the copy, the mutineer. But Kintu could not see how this could be true of his wives. For him, Nnakato was the original. Rather than being selfish, Nnakato was the pacifier who always allowed Babirye to have her own way. Surely it had to be Babirye who had fallen out with Nnakato. She had pushed and shove...

Table of contents

• Cover
• Title
• Dedication
• Contents
• Cast of Characters
• Family Tree
• Prologue
• BOOK I Kintu Kidda
• BOOK II Suubi Nnakintu
• BOOK III Kanani Kintu
• BOOK IV Isaac Newton Kintu
• BOOK V Misirayimu (Miisi) Kintu
• BOOK VI The Homecoming
• Acknowledgements
• Copyright