THE PATRIARCH

Certain things in life cannot be anticipated unlike the kind of pelf that one encompasses in the bank account. Life is not made up of a single entity though the body is one. Certain priorities, the arteries of blissful survival as social animals sometimes turn out to be a fiasco, a debacle, but that cannot be labeled as the unplugging of the life support tube. The human or for that matter all animals possess two very vital parts; the brain and the heart. The brain finds a snug place in the cranium which shields it like a caterpillar in the cocoon which in next to no time turns into a beautiful butterfly, with a difference in the outcome though. Every caterpillar evolves into arresting butterflies but the wits of human are not perpetually stunning. The brain unlike other organs cannot be transplanted which is one reason why it takes charge of the whole body commanding and ordering and transfusing itself through an assortment of channels, the five senses like a monarch who knows he can never be dethroned no matter what and does whatever he wants with his subjects. The subjects may be brainwashed or conditioned or persuaded is not the point but they follow and carry out the instructions willingly or half-heartedly. As a matter of fact human beings inherit and tag along this sovereign in different parts of the body. In some one can see it brimming through the mouth, whereas in some through the muscles, the eyes, the boobs, the bottom, the complexion, the calves, the hips etc. They are used to seduce, rape, molest, usurp, abuse, assault, create, destroy, harm, save, etc for better or for worse. In spite of the fact that this monarch finds himself immune against all odds from his subjects he also has a rival in the heart. 

M'bu, the millionaire...

Many a times I’ve heard people say that he or she is a seasoned banker, teacher, dancer, singer etc. But have you encountered a seasoned plant? If so, share with me the story of your plant. If nay, elongate your eyes, ears and meet M’bu, a plant which grows abundantly on the hill top village, Maram Khullen. It is not only a seasoned plant but also a versatile veteran, a trickster, a nanabush.

M’bu is a plant that will enticingly greet you the moment you step into the village. It is a beautifully made shortie. It has fat juicy shoots that can be easily dismembered from its parent stem. It is a millionaire in prickles. To a mere glance it looks harmless and painless and even inviting. Therefore, the first “don’t” that you should keep in mind when you accost this tantalizingly gorgeous green shortie is, you should never touch it with your bare hands. Sometimes I get a feeling that M’bu might be a female, a strong female who fence for herself by her own prickles like the skunk that keeps away enemies by its stink. If you have already experienced the kiss of this shortie you probably know what it means to be kissed by such a beauty as this. Yet, to those who haven’t the experience is like suffering a sort of private blitzkrieg. It leaves your skin turgid and can even cause high temperature. There’s no remedy but to lotion the affected area with your waste liquid.

To mark its existence may be M’bu is an eponym to M’buchiichiile, a fawn, blackish, whitest caterpillar, to M’buruina, a teeny-weeny black bird, and to M’bukouna, a green emaciated tiny caterpillar. M’buruina lives in the fields. The habitat for M’buchiichiile and M’bukouna is the M’bu itself.

M’buchiichiile, though not a common sight is a caterpillar that can smother you with excitement. The moment you bring to its knowledge of your presence by giving it a light nudge it starts to show its stunts and maneuvers, shaking its body violently. When as a child unprovided  for by circus or amusement parks M’buchiichiile has served umpteen times with the ambience of the missing man-made exhilarations.

M’bukouna is rather the most creative and wisest caterpillar. By the time it turns middle-aged, in the intricate fashion of the weaver bird it begins to glue the edges of the M’bu leaf and builds a snug castle. After a smug put it lies there happily for its turn to be a winged beauty. The curio in a child has often led me into opening up the homely foliage to see what the M’bukouna could be up to. Quite often I have found this fellow to be lying there snugly turning from green to white and from a black larva finally into a beautiful butterfly. The transport of cordiality with this fellow is never absent unlike other caterpillars.

M’bu does not serve only as treat for the eyes, ears, mind and heart but also has enough concerns for the physical needs of the human tummy. Broth prepared out of its tender leaves is a delicacy. Well, garnering the leaves is not an easy task but often a joyous one. A double edged bamboo blade is folded into a tweezers like cutter and used for plucking the foliage. Here goes the recipe:

v  Three or four cups of rice (double battered)

v  A basket of m’bu leaves

v  Shredded ginger (100gm)

v  Salt (two tea spoons)

v  Rinse the leaves thoroughly in water

v  When the water reaches the boiling point, put a bunch of m’bu leaves and sprinkle some rice over it. Continue the procedure until the desired amount is content in the pot. Slowly and steadily keep stirring (preferably with a wooden spoon) until the m’bu leaves are completely squashed.

v  Add salt and shredded ginger

v  Continue to stir until rice is cooked and soft

v  Serve hot

v  Best when cooked over firewood

v  Enjoy

M’bu broth tastes good and the aroma alone is a treat for the nostrils but gluttony is not a virtue for M’bu. It restricts your intake in its own way. If you gorge too much it holds your waste liquid and makes you undergo a queer flickering release within 24 hours.

Apart from all the above M’bu serves as a tool for grooming characters. Children and adults may be undeterred by the battering of any sort but it guarantees the heed being paid whether in chiding and chiseling a brat at home or an adult absent from Christmas carols or the festive gathering wakes.