Kaaro-Karungi Unveiled: The Enduring Spirit and Rich Tapestry of the Banyankole

Journey with us to the rolling hills and verdant plains of Western Uganda, a land now encompassing the districts of Greater Mbarara, Bushenyi, and Ntungamo. Here reside the Banyankole, a proud Bantu people whose cultural roots extend even into the present-day counties of Rujumbura and Rubando in Rukungiri District, sharing a deep-seated heritage. Originally, this land bore the evocative name of Kaaro-Karungi, meaning “beautiful home.” The adoption of the name Nkore is steeped in history, said to have emerged in the 17th century following the devastating invasion of Kaaro-Karungi by Chawaali, the formidable Omukama of Bunyoro-Kitara, a testament to the resilience of the people in the face of adversity. The name “Ankole,” as it is known today, was later introduced by British colonial administrators, a deliberate act to encompass a larger kingdom formed by uniting the original Nkore with the formerly independent realms of Igara, Sheema, Buhweju, and parts of Mpororo, a political amalgamation that nonetheless built upon existing cultural foundations.

Whispers of Creation: Unraveling the Banyankole Origins

Like the threads of a finely woven rug, the origins of the Banyankole intertwine with those of other Bantu groups, their ancestry tracing back to the heart of the Congo region, a shared genesis that speaks to ancient migrations and interconnected histories. Yet, the Banyankole narrative is also rich with unique legends, tales passed down through generations that offer a glimpse into their cosmology and social order. Foremost among these is the story of Ruhanga, the revered Creator, believed to have descended from the heavens to rule the earth, a divine figure who shaped their world.

Ruhanga is said to have arrived with his three sons: Kairu, Kakama, and Kahima. To determine his rightful heir, Ruhanga devised a seemingly simple yet profound test: each son was tasked with keeping milk-filled pots balanced on their laps throughout the long night. As dawn broke, the results revealed a natural order. The youngest son, Kakama, emerged victorious, having steadfastly maintained the integrity of his pot. Kahima followed, his effort also proving successful. Last came the eldest, Kairu, who, unable to endure the stillness, had faltered. Based on this divine trial, Ruhanga decreed a social hierarchy: Kairu and Kahima would serve their brother Kakama. With his earthly purpose fulfilled, Ruhanga returned to the heavens, leaving Kakama, also known as Ruhanga in his earthly manifestation, to rule the land. This foundational legend serves as a powerful allegory, explaining and justifying the traditional social stratification within Banyankole society.

A Dual Heritage: The Bahima and the Bairu

Traditional Banyankole society was distinctly structured, divided into two prominent groups: the Bahima, the proud pastoralists who moved with their cherished cattle, and the Bairu, the settled agriculturalists who cultivated the fertile lands. A system that bore resemblance to a caste system existed, with the Bahima traditionally holding a position of social dominance over the Bairu. This societal structure can be visualized as a dual pyramid, with pastoralism and agriculture forming its two essential legs. Intriguingly, within these two groups, or what might be considered castes due to their distinct social roles, the intricate web of clans stretched across both the Bahima and the Bairu, indicating a recognition of shared ancestry that transcended their occupational differences.

A common understanding prevailed: the hoe defined the mwiru (singular of Bairu), symbolizing their connection to the land and cultivation, while cattle were the defining characteristic of the muhima (singular of Bahima), representing their pastoral lifestyle and source of wealth. However, this perception was not absolute. The mere acquisition of cattle would not instantly transform a mwiru into a muhima, nor would the loss of cattle automatically demote a muhima to a mwiru. A muhima who owned a limited number of cattle was often referred to as a Murasi, indicating a less affluent pastoralist. Conversely, a mwiru who had acquired cattle was known as a Mwambari, signifying a blurring of the traditional lines.

Despite their distinct livelihoods, the two groups coexisted and fostered a symbiotic relationship, their lives deeply intertwined. The Bairu exchanged their agricultural produce – grains, vegetables, and local beer – for the vital cattle products of the Bahima: milk, meat, hides, and other pastoral resources. This mutual dependence ensured the well-being of both communities, highlighting the interconnectedness of their seemingly different ways of life.

The Dance of Union: Traditional Marriages

In the realm of traditional Banyankole marriages, the prevailing custom involved arrangements made by the parents of both the boy and the girl, often without the direct knowledge or explicit consent of the young woman. The initiative typically originated with the boy’s parents, and upon the negotiation and payment of an appropriate bride wealth, arrangements would be set in motion to bring the bride to her new home. Custom dictated that a young woman could not be offered for marriage if her elder sister or sisters remained unmarried, reflecting a strong emphasis on familial order and the well-being of the elder siblings.

A fascinating, albeit potentially challenging, tradition existed concerning the substitution of brides. If a marriage proposal was made for a younger sister, and the parents were aware that their daughter was not a virgin (as Ankole girls were ideally expected to be virgins until marriage), they might, during the giving-away ceremony, secretly conceal and send the elder, unmarried sister in her place. Upon discovering the substitution, the bridegroom was not expected to raise objections. He could proceed with the marriage and, if his resources allowed, negotiate additional bride wealth to also marry the younger sister, highlighting the complexities and pragmatism within their marital customs. The responsibility for fully paying the bride wealth and covering all other expenses associated with his son’s marriage rested squarely upon the father.

During the wedding ceremony, the bride would be accompanied by several attendants, including a significant figure: her aunt. Tradition held that the aunt had a specific duty – to observe or listen to the sexual intercourse between the bridegroom and her niece, ostensibly to confirm the groom’s potency. Furthermore, the aunt played a crucial role in advising the young bride on how to establish and manage her new household, particularly given the cultural expectation of virginity until marriage. If the bride’s parents were aware that their daughter was not a virgin, this information would be formally communicated to the husband through a symbolic gift among the other wedding presents: a perforated coin or another hollow object, a subtle yet clear acknowledgment of a deviation from the ideal.

The Abrupt Claim: The Practice of Oruhoko

A unique and somewhat controversial practice existed within traditional Ankole society known as okuteera oruhoko, which translates to “striking with force.” This phrase described a custom whereby a young man who had been consistently rejected by a girl he desired could abruptly force her into marriage without her consent and with minimal preparation.

While society generally frowned upon this practice, okuteera oruhoko was nonetheless a common and, in some instances, seemingly accepted, albeit forceful, way for a determined young man to secure a wife when other avenues had failed. However, the offender was expected to pay a significant fine in the form of an inflated bride wealth. Various methods were employed to carry out oruhoko.

One such method involved the use of a cock. A young man who had been repeatedly turned down by a girl would capture a cock, go to her homestead, throw the bird into the compound, and immediately flee. It was believed and deeply feared that if the cock crowed while the girl was still at home, refusing to follow the boy or delaying her departure with unnecessary preparations, she or another member of her family would face instant death, underscoring the element of fear and urgency associated with this practice.

Another form of oruhoko involved the smearing of millet flour on the girl’s face. If a boy happened to find the girl grinding millet, he would take some flour from the winnowing tray used to collect the ground grain and smear it on her face. He would then run away, and swift arrangements would be made to send the girl to his home. Any delays or excuses were believed to result in consequences similar to those described in the cock method, highlighting the ritualistic and symbolic nature of the act.

Among the Bahima, three additional methods of okuteera oruhoko were practiced. One involved the boy placing a tethering rope around the girl’s neck and publicly declaring his intent. The second method entailed placing a specific plant known as orwihura on the girl’s head, a symbolic act of claiming her. The third involved the boy sprinkling milk on the girl’s face while milking his cows, a gesture that intertwined his pastoral life with his forceful pursuit. It is important to note that this practice was generally only considered permissible if the boy and girl were from different clans, perhaps reflecting a way to manage potential familial conflicts.

Oruhoko was undeniably a dangerous and degrading practice, often resorted to by young men who had exhausted all other options. If the boy was unlucky enough to be caught by the girl’s relatives before he could escape, he would face severe repercussions, typically in the form of an exorbitant bride wealth, often double or even more than the normal charge. These extra cows, levied as a penalty, were not refunded even if the marriage later dissolved, serving as a significant deterrent, though not always effective.

The Arrival of New Life: Birth Customs

The Banyankole birth customs, while not exceptionally peculiar, held their own significance. Typically, when a woman was expecting her first child, she would be sent to her mother’s home for the delivery, ensuring the support and guidance of experienced female relatives. However, Banyankole women were generally known for their strength and resilience, and many, particularly those who had given birth before, could deliver their babies without the assistance of a formal midwife. In cases of difficult labor or complications, an experienced older woman, acting as a traditional midwife, would be summoned to assist.

If the afterbirth was delayed or failed to emerge promptly after the child’s birth, traditional remedies would be administered to the mother. Should these herbal interventions prove ineffective, a unique ritual involving the husband would be enacted. He would be required to climb to the top of the house carrying a wooden mortar, raise an alarm, and then slide the mortar down from the roof. As the mortar struck the ground, it was believed that the afterbirth would be induced to follow.

The Naming Ritual: Bestowing Identity and Meaning

A Banyankole child could be named relatively soon after birth, but the customary practice was to wait until the mother had completed her period of confinement, known as ekiriri. This period lasted four days if the child was a boy and three days if the child was a girl, a symbolic separation before the reintegration of the mother and child into the community. Following this confinement, the couple would resume their sexual relationship in a practice known as okucwa ekizaire, marking the full return to marital intimacy.

The name bestowed upon the child was often deeply personal, reflecting the experiences of the father and mother, the specific time of birth, the day of the week, the place of birth, or the name of a revered ancestor. The father, the grandfather, and the mother of the child would all offer name suggestions, but the father’s choice typically held precedence, underscoring the patriarchal structure of the family.

The chosen names were usually common verbs or nouns from everyday speech, imbuing them with familiar meaning. Often, these names also conveyed the emotional state or underlying beliefs of the parents at the time of the child’s birth. For instance, the name Kaheeru among the Banyankole could indicate the husband’s suspicion that the woman had conceived the child outside of their marriage. Interestingly, in traditional Ankole society, it was not uncommon for a woman to have sexual relations with her brothers-in-law and even bear children by them. Such children were fully accepted within the family and were not treated differently from other offspring, highlighting a unique aspect of their kinship system.

The Inevitable Passage: Understanding Death and Mourning

The Banyankole held a strong belief that death was not a natural occurrence but rather the result of external forces, primarily sorcery, misfortune, or the malevolence of neighbors. Their deeply ingrained skepticism towards natural death was encapsulated in the saying: “Tihariho mufu atarogyirwe” – “There is no body that dies without being bewitched.” This conviction led to a common practice following every death: the bereaved would consult a witch doctor to identify the individual responsible for causing the demise.

The body of the deceased would typically remain in the house for a period sufficient to allow all important relatives to gather, emphasizing the importance of familial solidarity in times of loss. Among the Bairu, burial would take place either within the family compound or in the plantation, reflecting their connection to the land. Among the Bahima, the deceased would be laid to rest in the kraal, the heart of their pastoral life. Burial was generally conducted in the afternoon, and the bodies were positioned facing the east, perhaps symbolizing the rising sun and the cycle of life. A woman’s body would be placed on its left side, while a man’s would lie on its right.

Following the burial, a period of mourning would commence: three days for a woman and four days for a man. During these days, neighbors and relatives of the deceased would gather at the home of the bereaved, camping and sleeping there as a sign of support and solidarity. It was customary for the entire neighborhood to abstain from digging or other manual labor during the initial mourning period, based on the belief that such activity could provoke devastating hailstorms upon the village. Furthermore, anyone violating this custom could be viewed with suspicion, potentially being accused of sorcery and held responsible for the recent death. Thus, this communal abstinence served both as a gesture of condolence and a way to maintain social harmony and avoid perceived supernatural repercussions.

If the deceased was the head of the household, his leading bull would be slaughtered and consumed in a communal meal to mark the end of the formal mourning period. Further ritual ceremonies would be conducted if the deceased was very elderly and had grandchildren, signifying the passing of a respected elder and the continuation of the lineage. If a person died with unresolved grudges against someone in the family, specific objects would be buried with them, intended to occupy the spirit and prevent it from haunting those with whom the deceased had been in conflict.

Special burial rites were reserved for spinsters and those who committed suicide, reflecting societal views on these circumstances. Suicide was considered a grave taboo, and the burial of a suicide victim was a complex and somber affair. The body would be cut down from the tree by a woman who had reached menopause (encurazaara), a woman believed to be heavily fortified with protective charms due to the perceived danger of handling the deceased. Indeed, it was believed that whoever performed the task of cutting the rope would soon meet their own demise. Tradition sometimes dictated that the corpse of a suicide victim could not be touched directly. In such cases, a grave would be dug directly beneath the hanging body, so that when the rope was cut, the corpse would fall directly into the grave. The grave would then be covered without any further ceremony – no mourning and no normal funeral rites. The tree on which the victim had hanged themselves would be uprooted and burned, and the relatives of the deceased would never use any part of that tree for firewood, a stark symbol of the tragedy.

Particular formalities also surrounded the burial of a spinster. If an unmarried woman died, there was a fear that her unsatisfied spirit might return to haunt the living. To appease her spirit and avert potential malevolence, before the body was taken for burial, one of the deceased girl’s brothers was required to perform a symbolic act of pretending to make love to the corpse, a ritual known as okugyeza empango ahamutwe. The body would then be passed through the rear door of the house and buried. Similarly, if a man died unmarried, he would be buried with a banana stem placed beside him in the grave, symbolically representing the absent wife. This was believed to propitiate the dead man’s spirit and prevent it from causing harm to the living. His body would also be taken out through the rear door.

The Sacred Bond: Blood Brotherhood

The Banyankole practiced the significant ritual of creating blood brotherhood, a profound bond forged in a ceremony known as okukora omukago. The ceremony involved the two individuals sitting closely together on a mat, their legs overlapping to symbolize their intertwined destinies. In their right hands, they would hold sprouts of ejubwe grass and a sprout of the omurinzi tree (erythina tomentosa), both possessing symbolic significance. The Bairu participants would also hold an additional sprout of the omutosa (fig) tree (ficus eryobotrioides), perhaps reflecting their connection to the land.

The master of ceremonies would make a small incision to the right of the navel of each man. The ends of the omurinzi tree sprout and the ejubwe grass would be dipped into the blood from the incision and placed into the hands of each person. For the Bahima, only the mutoma sprout was used. Then, a small amount of milk or millet flour would be poured into the blood (milk for the Bahima, millet flour for the Bairu), and each man would grasp the other’s left hand. Simultaneously, they would swallow the mixture of blood and milk or blood and millet flour from each other’s hand, a powerful act of shared substance and symbolic union. Blood brotherhood could not be established between individuals of the same clan, as they were already considered brothers by virtue of their shared ancestry. Once the omukago was performed, the blood brothers would treat each other as real siblings in every aspect of their lives, forging a bond that transcended mere friendship.

A Hierarchical Order: The Political Structure

The Banyankole operated under a centralized system of government, with the omugabe, the King, holding the highest position of political authority. Below him was the Enganzi, the Prime Minister, who served as his chief advisor and administrator. Provincial chiefs, known as Abakuru b’ebyanga, oversaw larger territories, and below them were chiefs responsible for local affairs at the parish and sub-parish levels, creating a clear hierarchical structure of governance.

The position of the omugabe was hereditary, and the King was required to belong to the Bahinda royal clan, who claimed direct descent from Ruhanga, the son of Njunaki, further legitimizing their rule through divine lineage. The death of a King often triggered succession disputes as various eligible princes vied for the throne. Once a successor was determined, an elaborate installation ceremony would be conducted to formally inaugurate the new omugabe. Historically, upon the death of a King, some of his wives would commit suicide or be compelled to do so, and certain servants within the royal court would also take their own lives, reflecting the profound loyalty and the hierarchical nature of