The Uncle and the Corpse: The Story of my People

Once upon a time the rain grew less and less in the lands of what is now known as Ethiopia. The rains grew so infrequent that people who lived on the land decided to carry what little they had on their heads and backs and make for a better life. No horses to carry them, they walked until days turned to months through wind and heat so fierce many died until they reached a land with rain. However, the group of people split in their decision to settle. The older half was tired. They walked for months without much food and water. They made their decision they would stay and make their new life exactly where they were. However, the younger half wanted to walk farther Southwest. They didn’t know why, but they had the feeling life would be better if only to walk a few more days, weeks, or months until they knew it was right. The older and younger people exchanged harsh words with one another. The younger group called the elders “Uncles” and bid them farewell. The older group exclaimed the younger group would die a most painful death in their journey and gave them the name “Corpse.” That is the story of how the Kiramojong and the Teso people came into their ethnic names.

Flash forward: In the late 1980s, the Uncles made their way down into the territory of the Corpse to take cows they thought rightfully belonged to them. The Teso people lost most of their livestock, which symbolized their wealth and cultural pride. It is tradition in the Kiramojong culture to take cows as a coming-of-age for boys. Today the land of Kiramoja is semi-desert, forcing the Uncles to come down to the land of the corpse and work the field for payment of food such as maize, sorghum and cassava.

More stories to come. . .

Me Update: I’m extremely busy compiling all the translations of schemes and the information I gathered in my community interviews to create new Ateso vocabulary. My mind is in a constant state of fatigue from reading and typing Ateso. In fact, I am starting to dream in Ateso and the first language I use is Ateso. Very strange yet exhilarating. Too bad I won’t be able to use the language when I return home. . . People in my village continue to tell me I am now a true Atesot and that I look more mature. I think it is the hair, which is getting longer by the day. I caught word of a woman who cuts white people hair, which excites me to no end (even though she is a cool 7 hours away). I love and miss you all bunches. Stay well.

From the bush,

Omoding Adam G.