Fable
In a little village in Kenya,
There lived families and friends—peacefully.
The village was blessed; the gods’ hands shielded them indeed.
In this village lived a boy named Mwangi.
He was born and raised in the family of Kamau.
On the day he was born, there was a prophecy.
The soothsayer said:
"You'll be mighty, formidable—almost like a god.
Do not make your people wail in regret for that."
Many years passed. Mwangi was raised properly.
He was taught the principles of morality and ethics.
Though he was feared by all, he disrespected none.
He conquered wars, mortal men, and beasts.
He made sure the villagers always wore smiles on their faces.
He carved houses, roads, and bridges with his hands.
Oh, how the villagers danced.
Oh, how they lived freely—like the trees.
Oh, how they almost turned him into a god.
He loved it, indeed.
He loved when they brought him fruits—a basket full.
He loved when the ladies massaged his body.
He loved when the kids played tug of war with him.
Indeed, it was a profound feeling to have.
Then came a day,
When strong and dominant spirits lurked around the village.
They made the forest their shelter.
They tortured the hunters who entered it.
They turned streams and rivers bloody.
They crept into the roots of the earth and made the soil barren.
Oh, how fear overwhelmed the villagers.
Mwangi was not pleased.
He missed the villagers’ joyful dances.
He missed the children swimming in the river.
He missed the hunters bringing him freshly caught animals.
He decided to go to war with the spirits.
The other warriors were terrified—
Terrified they might die.
They weren’t as powerful as Mwangi.
They hid to protect their families.
Mwangi’s parents begged him to do the same.
They said,
"Mwangi, stay indoors and manage the fruits you have."
"No, it's not enough," Mwangi said.
"Stay indoors and manage the little meat."
"No, it's not enough."
"Stay indoors and let your mother massage you."
"No. Her hands are feeble—she is old."
He was indeed a strong-headed boy at times.
He took his bow and arrow, his sword, and a shield.
He set out to battle the spirits.
Everyone—except his parents—cheered him on.
They said,
"Mwangi, go and bring back the heads of the spirits."
He replied,
"I'll be back, and I’ll see the smiles on your faces again."
The battle began.
Unfortunately, Mwangi was killed at the start.
The spirits jubilated—they had defeated the demi-god.
They painted the town red.
They attacked the village.
They gained dominion.
Some spirits entered men—
And remain there to this day.
The villagers were left in shambles.
They were abused, like a terrible man’s wife.
Mwangi had left them to suffer and wail.
They regretted letting him go to war.
I guess the prophecy came to pass:
"He made his people wail in regret."
