The Village Herbalist

Even though there was a major shift from traditional to
western medicine at the dawn of 19th century Africa,
to date, there are still several regions in which western
medicine remains inaccessible. These areas carried on
with the traditional methods of healing - some of which
have been incorporated into research for modern medicine.
It should not be lost that the majority of modern medicine
is deeply rooted in herbal extracts.

As culturally diverse as Africa is, the herbs used from
region to region are the same. You will find that one
healer treks for miles and miles to seek the advice of a
healer from another tribe. Healers are vast in classification,
ranging from gods/ancestor appeasers, to ghost exorcists,
to outright witches. This group does not believe in any other
religion but their own - the practice of witchcraft and the act
of bewitching.

Nevertheless, there is another category of healers which deals
purely in the school of thought that we get sick due to the
changes in environment and that what we eat can be supported
by the principles of equilibrium - which explains illness as an
imbalance of hot-cold, sweet–sour, wet-dry. It is typical to hear villagers
complain about malaria after the long "rain and dump" weather, as
mosquitoes multiply exponentially under such conditions. This category
of healer uses prayer to aid in the patients recovery, and will send the
patient in question to the hospital if the healing process is not met
with quick response.

Damar fell into this last category of traditional healers. She was a
devout Seventh Day Adventist. For the purpose of this blog I
will dwell on this group of healers - what they do, especially
what my grand mama did and which herbs she utilized.

*As a specialist in purging and emetic medicine, she had a very
strict routine. She could only see her patients in the morning,
with one condition: that you eat little or nothing the night before.
Anything after noon would only be dealt with if it was life
threatening. The emetic would make you vomit all the contents
of your stomach, (including all the rotten stuff) while the
purgatives would do the final cleansing of the body... talk about
natural laxatives...

Whenever the above mentioned would not work, only then
did she resort to ‘surgery’. By making three incisions just
below the diaphragm or wherever the pain was felt, she
would suction the disease by inserting a goat horn. I have
three scars in my own tummy as result of this procedure!

This rule did not apply to diseases such as colds and coughs,
which were treated in the evening using fumigants and
vaporizers. For a person suffering from chest congestion
Damar would boil eucalyptus tree leaves and bark , and cover
her patient with a blanket (water still boiling) so as to inhale
the steam.

For skin diseases resulting from a measles attack or scurvy,
she would prescribe the pungent 'bitter apple' (angw’e) while,
‘neem’ (arubaini) tree was left to deal with fever. For
bacterial infections and open wounds she would dispatch
the ‘Aspilia’ tree. If you had a stomach ache, you would not
escape the wrath of the very bitter, ‘bitter leaf’ (achak).
If you liked eating raw food (which was the norm in the fields)
and had worm infection, you surely had a date with a whole
cooked pumpkin plus the seeds. For those who could not
control their appetite and had constipation, Damar was more
than happy to dispatch a concoction of aloe plant mixed with
either senna (owinno) or mahogany bark.

Damar was not only a respected healer in Kagwa village,
but in the entire west Uyoma and beyond. This was not
due to her marriage to a famous traditional wrestler
Amos Ochiyo aka "Mahanya", but due to her natural
attunement with the environment. Having been born in
bushy and shrub-covered Sakwa, grandy learned to use
the herbs at an early age - a craft she perfected with time.
People would come from different parts of the country to
pay her a visit with different ailments. She provided them
with both physical and psychological treatments. She was
very compassionate, and never used this gift solely for
her own enrichment, but to serve others. I recall on more
than three occasions women flocking to her home with
sick kids but no money. She was more than happy
to help. Her favorite words were “When this child grows
up let her know who saved her life, and let her send me a
quarter kilo of sugar, now go in peace”. This was humbling.

One day while sitting around the fireplace, I told her I
wanted to have as many cows as my grand used to have.
This was the answer:

"If you really want to buy a cow and you don’t have enough
money, what do you do? Do you put the money away, wait, and
generate more? If the money can buy you two goats (m&f), then
go ahead and buy. After a year you will have begun to realize
your dream - the goats shall have reproduced and you will be
able to sell goats and buy a cow."

*The above mentioned herbs and trees are currently used
in western medicine.

When The Edges Crumble, Part II

Here is what I found out:
THE HIGHER SELF IS CONNECTED TO THAT OF OTHERS.

I love my life here in the Golden Isles, and can give many reasons
why. Among them (in my opinion), the teacher-to-child ratio in
the school system here is just right. Of course (as with any
“immigrant” family) there have been the related challenges. We
arrived in January, midway through the school year. My eldest
son Oscar (who was in the 10th grade in Kenya) was sent back to
the 9th grade… It was kind of demoralizing and many times,
regret started creeping in. Yet, something inside kept saying: it’s
just one year, let’s move on. This “setback” challenged Oscar to
set his eyes on the prize – to work hard, have fun and be the
best “Oscar” he could be. On May 30th of this year, we celebrated
his graduation from Glynn Academy – where he played soccer and
was in the ROTC as a second lieutenant. He is now a freshman
majoring in chemistry at Valdosta State University. I am very proud
of his achievements. The other two boys are also hustling. Allan
is playing soccer for Golden Isle Soccer Club U18, while his
younger sibling Brian is chasing the piece of dead leather at
Coastal Soccer Outreach. Brian is 12 and already playing with
U16… He is also learning fine arts at Glynn Middle School.
He plays the guitar… Way to, “Brayo”. Meanwhile, the two
princesses in the household give me a run for my time. Being
the father and nanny to Kate is a job I love, while Michelle will
always amaze me with her wit as I shuttle her to-and-from
school. Dealing with these two keeps me busier than a day’s
paying job.

The truth is: I love my life. Period.

Turning back to the center - it is here that I will not lose sight
of my purpose on this physical plane. Here, I realize it is best
not to focus on 'what I have lost; but on what I am becoming
due to the loss’. I have stayed away from the edges, as they
are too brittle. Turning to the center of my creation I seek
guidance and my archetype readily provides me with all the
help I need:

Venetia K. Hanratty-Saunders has been a key figure in helping
me realize my dream of serving others. She is the "editor in
chief" for Project Yongo, and has helped keep me in focus with
my life’s purpose… When my son Oscar was moving to Valdosta
to attend college, I went to hire a U-Haul. I became reacquainted
with Jim Bonds - it had been a year since we met. He asked what
I was up to, as he had heard about Sea Island laying-off 300 plus
employees. When I told him I was among them, he graciously
provided me with the keys to his 17-foot moving truck - free of
charge… Due to conflicting schedules and responsibilities,
shuttling Allan and Brian to-and-from soccer practice was
not something I could (realistically) do on my own every week.
When I shared this concern with Donna Johnson, she emailed
me right away saying she had instructed her son Stephen to
shuttle Allan. The Johnsons live 20miles from where we live.
The Saturday before last, there was a tournament in Jacksonville, FL.
Donna took Allan (along with some other kids) to the games. She is a
God sent Angel… what a phenomenal human being... Not to be left out
is my wife Susan. It is her paycheck we utilized for sending money to
Kenya to help with my Grand mamas Funeral. Susan, because of you
Damar had a decent burial. I am proud of you… And in the midst of
this, I am still looking for a job placement. My professional mentor
(and a man I am proud to call my friend) Charles Saunders has been
very instrumental in showing me how to find my way around the
“concrete jungle” using the good, old fashioned computer.

Next weeks posting will begin to uncover my grandma’s stories and
herbal/healing life.

Post Script: In 1992 I went my late grandma for advice about a
small business (like all “business people” I wanted to be a success).
Someone had told me, if you don’t have ‘JUJU’ power you will never
make it. So off I went with this to my secret keeper, and she giggled.
These were her words, and I will do the best I can to translate them
into English:

“There is no known medicine for business. The medicines I
have used for years are being truthful, being able to
accommodate my customers needs, and treating them
with respect - whether they are buying half or all my
merchandise; or just inquiring”.

-Damar Awino the Kagwa Village Herbalist 1906-2008

When The Edges Crumble

Coastal living will always bring one to the realities of
the ocean's high and low tides... Georgia’s coast is no
exception to this natural phenomenon. Whenever the
Atlantic decides to cleanse itself, the marshes of Glynn
are covered with water. It takes a split second for any
unskilled boater to veer off and ruin his precious vessel,
as the waters recede back into the ocean, leaving behind the
beautiful golden grass (not to mention a nose-blocking coral
stench), and the picture perfect rivers and streams meandering
to download their contents into the ocean.

This is the Golden Isles, home of the Sea Island venue for the 2004
G8 leaders summit, among other notable names.

In January 2005 I relocated to this beautiful region with my family.
Being my first time in the USA, I became lost several times on the
small island of St. Simons and its mainland gateway town
Brunswick... okay, so I had never owned or driven an automobile
before... and though I did not know anyone here (save my long-time
friends Venetia Hanratty and Charles Saunders who were very
instrumental in our relocation), I loved it from the start. The
ageless oaks and the beaches - even though you cannot see
when an alligator is scheming to have you for lunch.

Like the ocean, the "tides" of (Golden Isles) life also have their ebb
and flow, leaving one to wonder (if you are not connected with your
inner-self) why it must go down so low, and will it ever go back to
being a high tide again? The ups and downs are part and parcel to
our being. There is a time to plant and a time to reap. The lapse
between plant flowering and fruition can seem long. This is when
our spiritual steadfastness is tested. It is when the edges begin to
crumble.

On August 4th 2008 at 9:00am my edges crumbled. I did not
scramble because I knew that there was a "center" with a "source"
and all I needed to do was ask to be re energized. Imagine being
called into an office to be told “we have eliminated your position,
please give us the cell phone and any other keys, and the security
will escort you from the building”. What a seemingly shameful
way to leave the workplace I had given my "all" to... a job I thought
I would hold onto until my retirement. I had to remind myself that
it was my first job in America. Moreover, the schools were going back
in a week’s time, and I have four kids enrolled in school... ohhh wait a
minute, one being college-bound... hmmm... the edges are really
crumbling now. As I am penning this, my grandmother (my friend,
my childhood doctor, my icon) is lying instate waiting for burial on
Thursday and due to my circumstances I will not be by the graveside
to bid her farewell. She joined the other saint last Saturday at 6:00pm
Kenyan time, no more “wuon Olal” as she fondly called me.

The major question: how do I balance the tension of these two
extremes - how can I rise above all these joys and sorrows to
weather the storm below? How can I dance my way through
crisis lovingly and joyously, accepting that this is just a low tide
and the high ones are on the way? How do I face these realities
and still be at peace with my higher self?

Damar. Rest in peace. "Nya Ochiewo" fare thee well.
Awino sleep in peace. I love you as you loved me and
will cherish those moments we shared together.

-To be continued next week -