Bloodshed Happens Step by Step

Adeladius Makwega-MBAGALA

The Wazaramo and Wandengereko tribes are communities that traditionally believe strongly in witchcraft and divination, as do many other tribes in East Africa where such beliefs form part of everyday life. In such communities, almost nothing is done before consulting divination—what they call kupiga ramli or kupiga bao.

“A person cannot start a journey without consulting divination; one cannot farm without consulting it; a man cannot seek a wife before divination is done. Even a traditional dance group cannot perform before divination, and boys cannot be taken for initiation rites before it. Even a young bride cannot leave the house without divination being performed. Divination guides everything, and the diviner remains busy with this work throughout the year.”

Today, dear reader, let me tell you three true incidents that occurred in Mkuranga Village in Pwani Region during the 1980s. Some of the people involved may still be alive today and are likely of the same generation as Mwanakwetu.

For many years in Tanzania, primary schools close for about one week around the time of Easter. That was the case at Mkuranga Primary School. On the day the school was closing for the holiday, all students—from Standard One to Standard Seven—came to school and carried out their usual activities.

It was customary that a trustworthy student would be given the responsibility of sweeping the teachers’ office and even the head teacher’s office. That morning, the girl responsible for cleaning the teachers’ office arrived early, opened the office, and began her work, while Mwanakwetu was sweeping the open courtyard behind his classroom.

“Although Mwanakwetu was the child of a teacher, he was never lucky enough to be assigned the job of cleaning the teachers’ office. That position came with small benefits—sometimes helping one get notebooks or pens. But you cannot claim another person’s luck.”

To reach the head teacher’s office, one had to pass through the main teachers’ office. As the girl cleaned near the head teacher’s window, she suddenly discovered a dead snake.

She screamed loudly:

“Ahmad! A snake! A snake! By the Prophet, a snake!”

She ran to the senior student leader and reported what she had seen. Together they returned to the office of the head teacher. They brought a hoe, removed the dead snake, cut off its head, and buried it near the rubbish pit behind the office.

Cleaning continued normally, and later when the teacher on duty arrived, he was told what had happened.

Soon the school was full of discussions:

“How could a snake crawl onto the floor there? Why was it dead? What kind of snake was it?”

Students lined up and entered their classrooms, still discussing the strange discovery.

On the final day before short holidays, students usually receive only their test papers. Rankings are normally announced only at the end of long holidays in June and December.

When the closing bell rang, there was no need for the usual assembly under the large shade tree. Students simply lined up where their classes stood.

As the bell rang, students rushed to their lines. In the confusion, two boys collided head-first. Blood began flowing from both their heads. They were quickly carried to the village dispensary of Mkuranga, located where the District Commissioner’s office stands today. They were treated while the rest of the school assembly concluded.

When students returned home, each carried two stories:

“The dead snake found in the head teacher’s office and The two boys whose heads collided and bled.”

Soon rumors spread among students that a spirit in the school drank human blood and was thirsty.

During the Easter break—Holy Thursday, Good Friday, Holy Saturday, Easter Sunday, and Easter Monday—the children stayed at home.

When school reopened, another story emerged.

One Standard Five boy had been sent by his parents to work on the farm during the holiday. While returning home carrying firewood, he encountered a snake. He was bitten and rushed to the dispensary, then referred to Temeke Hospital because his condition was serious. His leg became infected and began to rot. Doctors decided the only option was to amputate the leg.

When school reopened, the boy was still hospitalized in Temeke. Later he returned to school walking with crutches and only one leg.

Now the school had a new story to add to the others. Students whispered:

“It began with the snake in the head teacher’s office. Then the boys who collided and bled. Now our friend has lost his leg from a snake bite. It nearly struck a large family; luckily their family has strong protection rituals. Otherwise we might already have buried him.”

Then someone would say:

“Bloodshed always begins little by little—step by step—until eventually it reaches a higher level.”

These stories spread from the students to their homes and families.

Dear reader, this was Mkuranga Primary School, where Mwanakwetu studied from Standard Two to Standard Five. The boy who lost his leg is still alive today and now has grandchildren. Mwanakwetu wrote this account so those who were not present can understand how people in those communities once believed and interpreted events.

What does Mwanakwetu say today?

In this story there is a statement:

“Bloodshed begins little by little, step by step, until it reaches higher levels.”

This reflects how many Africans traditionally believe that spilling blood—even that of an animal—can bring consequences. The story itself is just a childhood memory that Mwanakwetu recalled. He is not certain whether the Wazaramo and Wandengereko of Mkuranga still hold these beliefs today.