The phrase “the bull in a china shop” refers to a giant of a man who is, seemingly, slow but who can cause a lot of damage, just like a bull in a china shop. That was how Jaturua Katjitundu was; but much about that later.
Jaturua Katjitundu was born on 12 January 1938 and passed away on 4 January 2023 at the ripe old age of 84, barely a week before his 85th birthday.
Mbingasane, my great-grandmother on my mother’s side, was the elder sister of Tjikena, Jaturua’s great-grandmother on his father’s side. As fate would have it, Jaturua passed away during the morning hours of 12 January 2023, while his biological younger sister, Mberipura Nguasananongombe, passed away in the evening of 11 January 2023. The family was thus hard-hit by this double tragedy. As we are trying to self-identify and self-define ourselves as Afrikans, we should not only challenge colonial history, but we should also contest colonial names and Eurocentric concepts.
In this tribute, I will also set out to challenge the Eurocentric definition of family, concepts and places. To start with, in the Afrikan culture, there is no such thing as a first and second cousin or a close and distant relative. Someone is either your cousin or your relative, or they are not. The Ovaherero people have a popular saying: “Karikondua ka tjiti.” That simply means “clan ties are sacred and you could not cut them the way you would a stick.” Therefore, the great-grandchildren of my great-grandmother’s sister are my cousins if they enter the family tree from a paternal line, and they are my brothers and sisters if they enter the family tree from a maternal line; i.e. if I also enter the family tree from a maternal line.
Jaturua’s father, Mbotoo Katjitundu, was the grandson of Tjikena, my great-grandmother’s younger sister. When Tjikena was born, she was so big, so much so that her parents were asking themselves, what is this? Tjikena means what is this?
Mbotoo’s elder brother was none other than our clan’s celebrated ‘Superman’ Nguruhiro Tutovengi. The latter was famous, especially among Ovaherero people, for his abnormal height and his supernatural strength. Rumour had it that as he was herding the cattle of a white commercial farmer, a vicious bull came chasing in his direction and as there was no time to flee, he took the bull by the horns, thus breaking its horns and killing it in the process. His white boss could not believe what he was seeing, and fired him on the spot. Space would not allow me to narrate some of his other exploits. He could, for example, hardly find the right shoe size for his huge feet, and when he passed on, a special coffin had to be ordered from South Africa. It was these genetics of a huge stature that Jaturua had inherited from his father’s people; hence the phrase, the bull in a china shop.
Jaturua was part of the 154 young men who had been sent by the legendary Ovaherero paramount chief, Hosea Kutako, to Botswana to launch the armed struggle in 1964.
Unfortunately, that mission was aborted, and these young men had to return home.
Of the 154, only about 18 are still alive. A popular Otjiherero folklore song titled: ‘Ovengi mbakaria ongombe osaona na ve enene’ is dedicated to this group. Translated loosely into English, it would mean: “The group that ate the meat of the red cow and had their fill.” The composer of that song was one Ngoroveha Hengua, who was also part of the group.
One of the speakers at Jaturua’s funeral was a certain Uahuma Hei, who was also part of this heroic group. He described the heroic exploits of the group in rich and electrifying tones that captured the imagination of the mourners.
According to Hei, Jaturua had proven to be very good with his hands and more often than not, he would assume a leadership role.
Some kind-hearted people in Botswana gave them a red cow to slaughter for consumption. They ate that meat for days, and they also used its soup as a relish when eating hard porridge. This was where the folklore song referred to above originated.
Jaturua’s mourning ceremony was steeped in the deep traditions of Ovaherero people, where female mourners normally vent their deep sorrows in a low-key lament, with the chief mourner leading the ceremony. The heroic exploits and the family tree of the late are then called to remembrance. In this case, the chief mourner was none other than Sukoo Kavari, his father’s younger sister and my only surviving mother. As fate would have it, she turned 95 on the day of the funeral.
When the late Ovaherero paramount chief, Kuaima Riruako, was laid to rest a few years ago, the same Sukoo Kavari had to fulfil the role of a chief mourner at his funeral as well. He was a son to her and thus a brother to me in our Kavikua clan; a clan to which honourable McHenry Venaani also rightfully lays claim, from his paternal side.
Jaturua’s mother, Kaavae, was born to a German father. As I have argued elsewhere, children born to German fathers (including this author’s mother) were not born out of equal consented sexual relationships. This is an inheritance we cannot be proud of, safe to state it as a fact of life. This was daytime rape, and as we engage in the Ovaherero-Nama genocide debate, this dynamic needs to be factored in. Given this “unequal” German bloodline relationship, Jaturua did not have to learn about German colonial oppression from textbooks, he was a typical product of that system.
He was laid to rest at Otuvingo, at the foot of the Kaondeka Mountain, the scene of the mother of all battles in German colonial history; the battle of Ohamakari in 1904.
As part of cultural activism and anti-colonial contestation, I am not referring to this mountain as Waterberg Mountain, nor am I referring to the battle as the battle of Waterberg as the Eurocentric writers would have us believe. This sacred mountain in Ovaherero folklore is called Kaondeka, and the battle is the battle of Ohamakari ya Kakonge yo tjinyo konganda. Unfortunately, words fail me to render the last part of this sentence in English; this expressive saying is very specific to Otjiherero folklore, and you could not translate it without losing meaning. It is a deep and emotional description of Ohamakari because of its historic significance in the German anti-colonial resistance.
A very reliable source whispered to me that this introverted giant had taken many secrets with him to the grave about his exploits in Botswana, Tanzania, the DRC and the US.
Rest in peace, dear cousin Jaturua, the bull in a china shop.