Easter with Bread or Brew?

Last evening, as I was wrapping up things for the long weekend, a flood of memories from our childhood days in the village swept over me. It was as if the weight of adulthood momentarily lifted, allowing me to drift back to those simpler times.

Back then, being in Sunday school meant you were a good child. We learned to obey elders, tell the truth, and fear God. They said if we didn’t, we’d burn in hell. It taught us to be good and scared of doing wrong.

In those days, our church was a humble shell. No cream paint, no tiled floors, just bare simplicity. No roof fans or television screens showing biblical stories. The pulpit wasn’t raised, yet the high-most presence resided within. We, too, were different then, far from what we’ve become today.

During Easter, we’d rehearse Bible verses and songs in Kikamba. One song went like this: ‘lìlìkana mathìna ma Yesù lìlìkana mathììnaa, wìw’e teì mwìngì. Kwasìsya mùtwe wa Yesù, kwasìsya mùùtwee nì ngovìa ya mìw’a “Remember Jesus’s suffering, feel pity. Look at his head, thorns hurt him. Remember his ribs, spears pierced him. If you remember, you’ll feel lots of pity.” It reminded us to empathize with Jesus’s pain.

After reciting verses, our pastor would proclaim that Jesus’s only death saves us all – a message to that jesus of Western Kenya who recently escaped being crucified on a Good Friday by a whisker. “Die with Christ today. Bury your sins and rise anew in His resurrection,” the sermon fervently declared.

But we were diverse in the village because it was also during Easter when drinking dens would flood. Under mango trees, cleared spaces in the forests, behind houses; sellers would brew countless jerrycans of Karubu, their makeshift breweries working overtime to meet the demand, all in pursuit of making profits from the festivities.

In the past, local brew was pure: just water, honey, and Miatini left to ferment. But things changed. People began adding strange ingredients like dirty panties and euphorbia roots for acidity to speed up fermentation.

Long ago, manufactured alcohol wasn’t common. However there were tales of a drink called Kuluta, sold in sachets for 30 Shilings. After taking it, people experienced sudden diarrhea. Men even walked with strings to tie their trousers at the knees to stop it from flowing down to their toes. But that was a long time ago.

So, in our village, Easter was celebrated in different ways. Some saw it as a time for spiritual renewal, while others believed every holiday called for a calabash of brew to celebrate.

Happy Easter to You and Yours!

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