20/10/2025
Long ago, in a quiet lakeside village, there lived a group of fishermen who depended on the great River Nyanamu. The river gave them fish, fresh water, and fertile banks for growing crops. But the fishermen were never satisfied. They cursed the river often — when floods came, when fishing was hard, or when boats capsized in storms.
“We are tired of this river!” they shouted one year after a bad storm. “It brings us nothing but suffering. Let it dry up for all we care!”
And so they began cutting down the trees around the river, throwing trash into its waters, and disrespecting the very thing that gave them life.
Seasons passed. The river, tired and poisoned, began to shrink. The fish disappeared. The crops failed. The soil cracked. Soon, the once-thriving village was dry and silent.
Only then did the fishermen sit under the withered trees and weep. “The river we cursed was the very reason we ate and drank. We destroyed our blessing because we mistook it for a curse.”
A luo wiseman said “Jowi ok nyal bedo e od, to kende e dala.”
“A buffalo cannot live in the house, but it protects the homestead.”
