Just walked in from our trip to Samburu. In between entering this am replying to text messages. Senteu is home and of course so is Jeremy. We settled on using Senteu’s car. Little had we imagined the magnanimity of the safari.
We left Nairobi on Sunday. Some minutes to 1pm we settled into Thika Road. We nodded to reggae as the Mitsubishi Lancer rolled along the tongue smooth road.
We had always toyed with ideas for seeking meaningful ways to add value through our quest to understand Life and having fun in the process while our communities became better places.
So unanimously we had decided to ran away to Samburu. How can a modern maasai from Kajiado which even though is proximal to Nairobi National Park, have never seen a lion in the bush. Not like the ones they put in cages and when you see they stare back dreamily lying at the farthest point head limp on the front paws. Somehow I have always wanted to have a kind of wild expedition and experience Life like it is. You know.
Just go see if you can find the leopard that became famous the other day. Coming on prime time news one evening a few weeks ago. Reason, it had rendered one man impotent. Biting right into his testicles.
I don’t know what can impress you but from this adventure, my priorities have been firmly anchored.
Trying to understand others may lead to empathy which might not only inspire you into appreciating who you are but could also ignite in you a passion to contribute to every other effort to improve and respect the value of human Life. We could had not chosen a better destination.
We found fun in Nanyuki entertaining our taste buds with juicy looking, pan fried beef chops and a world class Chapati at Kongo Maito.
“It means mother’s pot.” Someone responded to my inquiries. It was such an out of this world Chapati deliciously, that someone else exclaimed.
“Hii chapo hata haitaki mboga”
Maybe it was the reason or another but in fact we changed music tempo and whistled to rhumba as we dropped towards Timau. I learned its among the coldest towns in Kenya. And that could be the magic of such out of your comfort fancies. There is always something new to learn.
Archers Post is in the banks of Ewaso Nyiro River surrounded by hills. It took us under six hours to get to the town where we would spend at friend’s places. The town inherited its name from an adventurous British explorer of old who colonized a little hill nearby. I was told later that if I wanted, a small hike through the thick intepes forest will guarantee me a sighting of his residence’s ruins. We chose to go to the Manyattas.
With assistance from a brother called Immanuel, events changed paced and we were in a village called Ntilal. Late evening found us seated on a mat leaning on the shoulder high manyatta while our legs stretched parallel to each other our shoulders touching. For a moment it seemed like someone has touched the pause button. Here is why.
We were staring on the stars and enjoying laughter and conversations with anonymous voices. Two people among the voices had picked us from a point where the car could not go any farther at the hour. It was 9am and after some minutes of scratching through a vegetation where every plant is thorny, we walked into the boma. Here we met the man who will host us for the night. Pleasantries were barely over before he shone his torch on the ground while calling a name. My eyes caught a human form sleeping right at our feet on the dust. What was gut wrenching to me was the tone of the graphic his torchlight revealed.
The dusty ground was an ashy grey powder on top of which was a tattered calf skin. It felt numbing to look at the under 8 year old curled asleep on top of it. Everything was the same colour. Sort of like a camouflage.
The aged man pulled the boy and his ‘mattress’ and rolled out a plastic mat. So there I was listening to the night sounds and tinks from bells around us. We got acquainted under the African sky. It was like listening to yourself if your heart had a voice.
They had only moved into the manyatta. Not more than 2 months ago. Its becoming harder to find water and pastures he said. Even worse the children had not been to school since anyone remembers.
“But there are schools around, no?” I asked. Some silence followed and when someone spoke it was not in response to my wonder. I was later made to understand that even if that was the case, some matters are honestly of more priority.
My head rested easily on the 5 litre plastic container that was my pillow. It took very long to get asleep.
Next to our feet was the man of the home. Asleep lying next to him was his son, the one he moved to create a space reserved for special guests. I don’t remember much of anything later until I heard a man calling his wife so they go.
At first the lady fidgeted inside the sticks structure covered with polythene and canvas then she asked
“Can I take the baby?” I held my breath.
Without missing a beat the man said yes. How do you sleep again? Though I tried, there was no way these developments could be figured out.
“It must be a very long kind of a journey to get up at such an hour just so you be in time” I thought.
“Yet, which place is that where I must get up at such an hour so I can be there? It really must be very important or maybe essential for me to get there. Otherwise if we needed constant flashes from the torch of our host to the different directions that dogs barked to. He must be scaring away a very dangerous carnivores that will not waste a second in crushing into the thorn fenced compound.”
There was no way I could understand anything. In no way would my mind give me a justifiable reason for such a reality. I said a prayer for whoever the infant was. I vowed to stay focused on every new development if I could get to understand myself more.
Dawn sneaked in and I got to view the whole boma. 5 round manyattas create an enclosure. Goats and sheep stay in there along other pens some hosting donkeys others camels.
Every manyatta had its own gate. Your flocks use only that and you are responsible for safeguarding it. Small babies and girls slept inside the manyatta with their mothers. Boys slept outside with their fathers.
Some minutes past 7am, I noticed someone swaying a yellow, 3 litre plastic container. In quick strides he followed a donkey dangling almost 40 litres of water in sacks secured from on top of the animal’s back and resting on its sides.
I later realized it was the same water fetching errand that the baby was to go. This man with a donkey was one of the voices that I shared an evening with. Together with another gentleman who will later arrive on a bicycle from the same errand, these two would prepare for us a meal of sheep meat.
These came in handful chunks that we dug into with our teeth pulling away like canines do. We sat in the sweltering savanna heat under semi arid vegetation surrounded all round by hills in the short distance.
Amazing how despite limited resources these people can be so kind and generous. After a tedious job of killing, slaughtering and preparing to cooking the meat, they arrived just as they had been promised. On time.
The first was a Roasted Ram testicle. This reminded me of the leopard but there was no time for that. Next followed Roasted ribs accompanied by Enkiringo ngiro. The latter struck me with awe because of the distinct difference in how that part of the sheep is prepared where am from. Similarities abound between Samburu and Maasai but irronkena are almost a reserve meal sometimes preserved for long time to be enjoyed in small bitings at special occasions. They were roasting it there. How can we control flames that will come from the much fat that is this meat? Maasai fry it out and is use the oil for many things including eating and medication purposes. But how sweet it tasted when roasted. Boiled chops quickly followed and last was the soup.
Full of meat and waiting for the middle aged man to complete stirring the soup, a little snake came and listened to our joy and stories. For the entire duration we sat there it unthreateningly leaned from a thicket branch as if it also was understanding the conversations.
This soup may have been boiled from the same water that the infant had to accompany the parents to fetch. Whatever these folks had for supper or breakfast must had been heavy. With obvious generosity they served themselves last sometimes missing a round of a bite just because we where the visitors and we deserved it. How can they be like that?
Maybe i’ll become a super human. Blessed with a fortune to have more than I need, how much more can the world be better if together with this I will still be as friendly or as kind or as generous or as entertaining or as hospitable or as hardworking or as daring or as courageous or as hopeful or as friendly or as happy even though fully aware of the reality.
If you are reading this there is a likelihood that you sleep in a warm secured house in a bed with blankets. Never miss a full meal for lack of options. Your children or siblings never miss school. Neither do you know infants who accompany their mothers on their daily chores way before cork crow.
I mean you could be having it better than that. If nothing else has a deeper meaning, at least be grateful for anything and everything for someone else is having it worse than you. Not only that, what can you do with some of your blessedness to improve the Life of someone else?
For heavens sake it could be a word of encouragement. Its time we all wake up and put our best skills and energies forward in service to humanity. The most important thing is to acknowledge that some of what is basic and easily available for you is a matter of Life and death to another. Count your blessings and increase your capacity to love and may your wisdom always grow in the process.
Many thanks to Jere and Sent. DO Samburu East. Mr Jacob Kantula and his son Emmanuel. The entire Leariwala family, Mike and family, Mama Tecla, Frida and the entire staff Ololokwe Guest House lastly Dj Esky. Am so coming back dear friends. Mungu azidi kuwabariki kwa ukarimu wenyu
...walk through the savanna plains of East africa 