Once Upon A Time

Once Upon A Time

By Sushama Karnik

This is a story of a lovely black girl from an obscure village of Tanzania. Since I’ve forgotten the names of both: I mean, the name of the girl as well as the village: because they both belong to that ‘once upon a time’ slot of all traditional stories: let us give them names. The girl was Ulla and the village was Zincoba. Actually, Ulla is the name of a lovely Chinese flower, but that’s so much the better for our story because our black girl was as lovely as a flower. She carried the fragrance of her girlhood blossoming into youth all around her. Looking at her, none felt the need to be reminded that ‘black is beautiful’, because she was both black and beautiful.

But Ulla lived in a strange world. She got up to the shrill, cantankerous shouting of her mother, aunts and granny. Then her rowdy brothers got up, and if she dared to sleep longer, ignoring all the hell around her, one of them would come to her and kick her with a great gusto: ha ha! That would kick Ulla out of her dreams too!

The mornings used to be occupied by all the concerted noises made by all: the women of the household and her three brothers who were devil incarnate. “ Ulla this, Ulla that, where is Ulla? Ulla, can’t you hear?” And that would keep Ulla on her toes throughout the morning. In the afternoon her rowdy brothers would return from the farm, hungry as wolves, kick their muddy shoes around, and slapping her hard on the back with their muddy hands, would rush to hog their meals.

After the meals the men folks would rush to grab the most comfortable and cozy nook of the house for the luxury of their afternoon nap while Ulla would sit down to share meals with the women of the household.

Those were the days when the women of the household and those of the neighbourhood had started looking at her grown up body with a critical look. She was a commodity to be disposed of now: the stronger, the better the deal; and yes, the sooner, the better!

Ulla understood the look in their eyes. She was filled with horror because soon she would have to show everyone that she was strong enough to withstand the ordeals of that thing called marriage which would bring into her life a monster called ‘husband’, who, she knew, would be as awful as her brothers, if not worse.

One day, her mother called her for a task, which actually turned out to be a very neurotic session of the mission – ‘educating Ulla’. When she entered her mother’s room, she found her mother surrounded by a number of wiseacre women of the neighborhoods. When she went in, they looked her up and down, as if she was a mare on sale. There was a look of great pity in their eyes which filled her mother with an unwarranted inferiority complex. Actually they were struck by Ulla’s charm which none of them possessed. But neither Ulla nor her dense mother could see through their mask which concealed their envy.

Her mother stupidly went on endorsing all their wicked comments and evaluations of Ulla and Ulla listened open-mouthed to their glib talk about how a girl should dress and conduct herself. Ulla looked all the more ungainly in spite of her clean, glossy black complexion and slender waist. The women were mighty pleased with themselves as their comments made Ulla’s mother crestfallen and made Ulla confirmed in her belief that she was no good –like that ugly duckling.

The result of that frenetic half-an-hours session of ‘educating’ Ulla was that her mother was thoroughly demoralized for having given birth to a daughter who was good for nothing. Her frustration, as it became more and more visible and audible, heightened the morale of the women and they rejoiced over their success, as Ulla looked pathetic. She cut a sorry figure indeed, among all those worldly wise Dianas of this earth.

After the women had left (but not before extracting a good ransom in terms of tea and snacks, with an implicit promise not to visit them again till the next fortnight or two) Ulla’s mother dragged her to the backyard and said, “You are grown up now; but look at your waist, thin as a wisp. You will break down after the first kick, and then, no husband for you. Here, go and fetch water from the river. And remember; you are not going to stop before you complete three rounds. At your age, we used to fetch water, grind millo for ten people, and work from daybreak till night.”

Ulla understood; but you may not understand. What the hell is the link between a kick and a husband? Well, in that village in Tanzania, it was required of girls to show that they could withstand kicking from their husbands. The girl would be made to sit firmly on a rock and the boy would come from behind, running like a fast bowler in a cricket-match and kick the girl in the waist with all the force he could muster. The girl should neither fall off nor cry. Then the boy had no way but to marry her. Of course, you can imagine how the boys would bend the rules to suit their choice. But Ulla’s mother and Ulla were not too hopeful of coming across a smart Alec who would eat his cake and have it too! Besides, most of the boys and men were too vain and thoroughly unromantic to make any concessions even to the most beautiful of the girls.

So that’s how it was for Ulla. The formula had set in her mind: one kick, no fall, and no cry=marriage=husband. But what was a husband equal to? There was a big question mark.

She wanted to ask her mother how many times she fell off the rock or cried in pain. Then she explained to herself: perhaps father did not kick mother hard enough; or did he? Can’t one marry without that great kick?

Every now and then Ulla would sit quietly to think out a solution. In those days, her friends were full of stories. One of them told her how a certain boy had caught a glimpse of the girl whom he was going to kick and had fallen for her. When his parents noticed it they were furious and warned him not to perform the kicking half-heartedly. If he did, God would be angry and would not bless the marriage. No God blesses a marriage based on dishonesty, they said. They said that both the boy and the girl must face the test without cheating on the rules. So the poor boy kicked really hard and the girl fell off the rock, and the boy ran to her in panic to pick her up. But alas, they were too honest, and so the boy could not marry the girl. He ended up marrying an Amazon of a girl; but that’s another story.

Ulla had laughed to death when she had heard that story. But now as the hour of destiny was approaching fast, she lost her laughter and even her smiles. She looked grave.

Then started the ordeal of preparing Ulla for the test. Her mother was anxious that her daughter should pass the test in the first go. She herself had failed five times; so much so that her parents had lost hope of ever getting her married. She now blamed it on her parents because they had not prepared adequately for the test.

Then one day, the family sat together to discuss the matter and they decided unanimously to train Ulla properly for the test. Henceforth everyone in the family, even Ulla’s younger brother, would kick Ulla hard, at least thrice a day. “And no mercy, mind you,” said Ulla’s granny sternly. The boys laughed gleefully. They were already in the habit of doing it; but now they could do it with an official sanction.

“Ho, ho, Ulla,” they would say, “We are going to find the best of guys for you; don’t worry. But a good one doesn’t come along without a price.” And everyone agreed on this last piece of wisdom.

So, day in and day out, with every summons from any of the family, Ulla had to press her teeth together and face a hard one, and that too without a protest.

Ulla started wondering what was really going on. Were they simply using her as a punching bag to vent out their anger, for some reason? Or had they really found someone whom they were keen to make their son-in-law? There was nothing she could do but to wait and watch.

One day she lost her patience and turned around, and gave a good bashing up to her brother. His wailing brought everyone there and they were delirious with joy, as if they had heard the wailing of a new-born babe. Ulla’s feat deserved kudos according to them, not because her brother was a bully and deserved to get such a bashing up anyway, but because “Our darling Ulla can now pass the test in the first attempt,” they said.

Ulla was at a loss to make any sense out of this. “For God’s sake, put an end to this vaudeville and the absurd preliminaries. Show the bloody horse to me once and for all and I’ll know what to do. But let me see that cursed guy first!” she said once.

Everyone was alarmed and alerted at once, as if they had heard some blasphemy from her mouth. Her mother said, “Holy one, you are not to say such inauspicious things before your marriage. And another thing, more important: under no circumstances are you going to see the boy, nor is he going to catch a glimpse of you! Oh Lord, we know what tricks the boys and girls of this generation pick up from one another. In our times---“. And blah blah blah, she went on to say things which every new generation is bound to hear from the older one.

One day, Ulla was standing in the backyard watching a man loading a donkey with sacks of cotton. The donkey had been tolerant enough to bear the burden up to a point. But suddenly the wise one (the donkey) lost his (or was it she?) temper and kicked his master hard with his hind legs. It happened so suddenly and unexpectedly that the man fell flat on his back. The sight filled Ulla with such joy that she laughed to her heart’s content as never before.

In another household, a little further down, another scene was unfolding. Let’s call the guy Gwana, because anyway, we have to give him a name, though we need not be fussy about it. A man with any name will sound nasty all the same, and he has to, you know! What’s there in a (man’s) name?

It was time to find a bride for Gwana. Gwana was alright, I mean, he was strong, black and all that, but oh, he was not rowdy, not a rascal, not a rogue; in fact, he was without all those abstract, intangible virtues expected in a boy of his age.

He was being given a ‘talking to’ by his father who was advising him, mind you, not admonishing! He was told how a boy of his age must thrive in the presence of someone who inspired fear, like for example, his own father, or better still, his grandfather. The girls should not be foolish enough to seek his attention but stand away in awe; they should not perceive him as their protector, but had better regard him as a threat to their very existence if they dared to disregard or disobey him. Gwana put on a deadpan face and pretended to listen obediently.

Actually he was nervous at the prospect of having to run, and then after that really vigorous start, go and kick the woman hard in her waist; that too in front of all the curious spectators! And what, if in spite of a good start, he lost nerve at the critical moment and failed to deliver the goods? What if that stupid nanny, instead of falling off, turned around and showed all her thirty two teeth to him in a wicked ‘heh heh’ of a triumph? In fact he was advised by one of his sagacious friends not to spare any of them, and go and kick them so hard that would knock the daylight out of their brains, because whoever they were, “As a rule, all of them deserve to be kicked anyway. Don’t expect them to be angels, you know! Especially the one who is going to withstand the kick is surely not going to be an angel,” he had said with the bright light of wisdom in his eyes.

“But then where would the angel be? Most likely to be among those who fall off!” Gwana had asked in a dilemma.

“The simple bait is not to marry, my dear friend. Because the rules are such that you are unlikely to marry an angel and the one you are likely to end up marrying is going to be far from an angel!” His friend had summed up the whole thing very wisely. But it left Gwana in a fix.

What do you think, my friends? After all, Gwana and Ulla was not a pair of star-crossed lovers like Romeo and Juliet. At this stage, we can’t even say, like cock-sure philistines that marriages are made in heaven. If not Ulla and Gwana, then some other pair, until some of them hit it off, no matter who they are: any xyz and Ulla, or any xyz and Gwana, or who knows, Gwana and Ulla after all! Besides, Gwana did not know whether Ulla was an angel, nor did Ulla know whether Gwana or that ‘bloody horse’, if you may put it that way, was indeed a guy whose kick was worth a goldmine.

I know, you are dying to know what happened next. But that after a little break! And by now, I must have left you guessing as to who I am: a hard-core knife-wielding feminist or a die-hard macho! Keep guessing. The answer is not hard to find.

Hello everybody; we are meeting after a long break; thanks for bearing with me.

The doomsday arrived. There was no need to get Ulla dressed up for the occasion; that could wait for another day. Gwana had a confidential talk with his sagacious friend before setting out on his mission of choosing the right one whom he was going to wed. Ulla had no such privilege; she had to trust her own instinct and luck; the latter was going to be more decisive than the former.

Somehow, Gwana’s aunt had come to know that Ulla was a delicate darling. She observed Gwana carefully to see if he too had got to know it. She was satisfied to see no such sign; but still, to make doubly sure, she spoke loudly for everyone to hear, “Gwana will have to do his best; otherwise he will bring shame upon the family; the girl is quite sturdy.”

Gwana made his calculations: a sturdy girl; will need a hard knock. If she doesn’t fall, Gwana marries her. His friend gave him a knowing look. Gwana secretly sneaked inside to test his muscle-power.

His aunt however, had other plans. She had seen Gwana and his friend exchange a look. She smirked complacently. She knew how Gwana’s mind worked. Now Gwana will knock off Ulla and there will be a good chance to get him to marry her own niece.

Gwana set out, accompanied by his family, and of course, by his sagacious friend. He was nervous like a warrior who was going to shoot in the dark.

When they reached Ulla’s house they were taken straight to the battleground, because it was not a custom among them to stand on ceremony on such occasions; they meant business!

Far from the spot from where Gwana was going to take a start, Ulla was sitting on a rock with her back turned on the spectators, gazing blankly in front of her.

But just before the ritual was to start, and before Gwana could afford a glimpse of Ulla from the rear, his aunt came running to him and pushed him out of view. She told him to wait and as everybody watched, wondering what she was up to, she rushed to Ulla’s mother uproariously and admonished her for making Ulla’s slender waist all too noticeable. Ulla’s mother was hurt and furious. In fact, she was following the rules honestly. Besides, she was a simple soul, incapable of any trickery.

In that hullaballoo, Ulla turned, and lo! The first one to set his eyes upon her was none else but Gwana. Their eyes met for a fraction of a second, and before anyone knew, Ulla turned her back on the scene, and sat as before, staring ahead blankly. But she had liked what she saw in that fraction of a second.

But now she feared the test. She had seen Gwana flexing his muscles in readiness, all set to deliver the great kick. Ulla recalled her rigorous training of the past one month and braced herself for the fateful blow.

That moment came. Ulla pressed her teeth together so hard that she bit her own lips. She was determined not to fall off the rock.

Gwana’s sagacious friend patted him on the back and reminded him to do his best, to put all the power in the kick and give a hard knock to the adversary sitting in front of him. Gwana nodded as he took a start.

Ulla waited breathlessly for the great knock-off! And good lord, it was a gentle knock, as if somebody had gently tapped on the door.

Gwana stopped, breathless with excitement and more out of nervousness. Ulla was there before his eyes, still sitting on the rock. He did not know if it was his nervousness that did the trick.

Ulla’s family was delirious with triumph. They all rallied around Ulla, everybody taking the credit for giving a real hard lesson to Ulla in the course of her training.

Gwana’s aunt was left wondering how this wisp of a girl could withstand the knock. She kept looking at Ulla’s slender waist; nothing had changed; Ulla’s waist was as slender as ever.

And so, my friends, Gwana married Ulla in the midst of all the hassle over dowry and the scenes made by his bad-tempered aunt.

What happened thereafter, I do not know. But let’s hope, they lived happily thereafter, forever.