Circumcision Rites Resonate Among Kenya's Bukusu

It is some minutes past 2pm in Bungoma County's village of Malakisi, home to Kenya's Bukusu tribe.



The musical clanking of cowbells and animated singing by boys, men, girls and women moving from one village to another rend the air in this rural part of western Kenya bordering Uganda.



Within the group of singers and dancers, two cousins – 11-year-old Abubakr Kuloba and 13-year-old Ramadhan Wejuli – stand out.



Bare-chested, they each wear only a pair of shorts. Their faces are daubed in white maize-flour paste and they wear several necklaces of white cowry shells around their necks.



On both of their hands are cowbells, which they use as musical instruments.



Kuloba and Wejuli are known as "Wasinde" – this year's candidates for circumcision, a tradition that the tribe has maintained for centuries to usher boys into manhood.



The initiation ritual is performed every August on school holidays.



It is an event that the deeply-cultured Kuloba and Wejuli families have long been awaiting and preparing for.



"Tomorrow, the two are expected to become men," Sitatuli Ibrahim, a 68-year-old Bukusu elder and an uncle of the cousins, told Anadolu Agency.



"Tradition requires that they go around to the homesteads of family and friends to invite them for the important ritual the next day," Ibrahim explained.



"The whole of today they will move from one village to another, singing," he added. "They can move for many kilometers – even cross the border into Uganda – to invite relatives living there."



The Bukusu are a sub-tribe of the larger Luhya tribe, which occupies four counties in western Kenya.



Most Bukusu tribesmen are to be found in Bungoma County.



The Bukusu are closely related to the Bagisu of Uganda, who have maintained similar circumcision rituals.



-Rituals-



After singing and dancing all day under the hot sun, the two boys finally retire to their homestead.



The sun has set on Malakisi, but nearly a hundred people have gathered at the boys' homestead to spend the night ahead of the circumcision ritual, which is usually performed at dawn.



"A maternal uncle of the boys is expected to offer a cow to be slaughtered tonight," Ibrahim told AA.



"The meat is supposed to cater to our visitors, while some is to be given to the man who will circumcise the two boys," he explained.



At the homestead, visitors break into a traditional Bukusu song, praising the family and encouraging the two boys to be ready to face the circumciser's knife.



A fire is started, with the two traditional circumcisers – known as "Omukhebi" – making movements close to the fire, preparing the tools that will be used the following morning to usher Wejuli and Kuloba into manhood.



Special knives, known as "Lukhembe" in the Bukusu language, are sharpened repeatedly throughout the night.



"The fire sanitizes the blades and the sharpening ensures that the cut is swift and clean," Masinde, a 47-year-old traditional circumciser who learned the trade from his late father, told AA.



With concerns being raised about the possible spread of HIV/AIDS through un-sanitized knives, the Omukhebi are required by the Health Ministry to undergo some training.



Not all Kenyan tribes circumcise as a rite of passage, but the ministry encourages male circumcision, as medical experts say it reduces the chance of HIV infection.



The singing continues and the two Wasinde are paraded through their home compound to receive some final advice from community elders.



One of their paternal uncles applies green feces – taken from the slaughtered cow – to their bodies, before putting a necklace of meat around their necks.



The uncle draws closer to the two boys, making loud exclamations in the Bukusu language.



He moves to the left and slaps Wejuli on the face, trying to push him backwards. Wejuli, for his part, is determined not to be intimidated.



The uncle then moves on to Kuloba, who he likewise slaps in the face. But Kuloba, too, stands his ground.



"This slapping and hitting is meant to test the boys' tolerance of the pain that awaits them," explained Yusuf Wanyama, a Malakisi native.



"They are being prepared for the cut."



The soon-to-be-declared-men understand this.



"It was my wish to be circumcised in the traditional way and not in a hospital," Wejuli told AA. "I am ready; I am not scared at all."



At his father's home, meanwhile, a large clay pot has been placed in the middle of the living room.



Older members of the community drink a traditional beer from the pot, made from fermented millet flour locally known as "Busaa." 



For the men, a drinking spree then ensues until dawn, when the circumcision is slated to take place.



As the clock approaches 5: 30am, the festive mood at the homestead suddenly becomes somber; the vigorous singing changes into a sorrowful tune more like a funeral dirge.



The time has finally come for Wejuli and Kuloba to face the knife.



The two are led, among a group of other men and boys, almost a kilometer away to a nearby river. Upon arriving, Wejuli and Kuloba are stripped naked before taking a dip in the cold waters of the Malakisi River.



"Immersing their bodies into the river symbolizes cleansing their past life for a new life ahead," Wanyama explains.



The two emerge from the river and head to the river bank, where scores of people have gathered to witness the time-honored initiation ceremony.



A relative of the two boys now applies clay from the river bank all over their naked bodies, except for their eyes.



A large lump of clay is put on their noses and another on their heads; a grass stick is placed on the clay lumps affixed to their heads.



Each of the two boys tightly clenches a stick in the right hand, placing it upright while the left hand remains at their side.



Two traditional circumcisers then suddenly emerge from among the crowd, each brandishing a sharp knife.  



A deafening silence falls over the entire gathering.



Tradition requires that the two boys remain standing, looking forward. They are prohibited from crying in pain, or even blinking.



A whistle is blown and blood starts to drip on a white sheet on which Wejuli is standing.



A second whistle sounds and blood flows from Kuloba.



A third whistle is heard and the two circumcisers run from the scene, never to be seen again.



The crowd then breaks into jubilation and the singing and dancing re-erupts in full force.



Wejuli and Kuloba are no longer boys but men – full-fledged warriors of the Bukusu tribe.



Philomena, Wejuli's mother and Kuloba's aunt, then shows up with two printed sheets in which to wrap the two boys and escort them back to the homestead – where celebrations are set to continue.



"We are keeping the tradition of our ancestors alive in the modern world," says the boys' uncle, Ibrahim.



Indeed, the coming of Christianity, Islam and western education may see more Bukusu tribesmen opt to have their children circumcised at hospitals.



Nevertheless, the sound of cowbells, singing and dancing every August is likely to be heard in Bungoma for a long time to come.



"Our hope is that this tradition lives beyond our generation," Ibrahim said. "It is our duty."



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