Greetings from Kenya!

Ah, it’s the little things that can all of a sudden grow out of control when traveling that makes one realize how nice it is to be home and have things operate properly. This morning’s normal five minute task of checking photo file sizes for the blog turned into a five HOUR process of updating the computer’s operating system, security updates, and browsers. And for those of you who are thinking “Five hours?? He obviously isn’t very good with computers!” . . . Well . . . remember 56k modems? Enough said?? Grrrrrr. Though I suppose it’s simply in-line with the speed in which things are done in these parts . . . as one described, “nothing gets done before the dust settles”. Something I’ve come to learn over the last week and a half . . . and by which the speed this blog entry has been posted, it seems to be rubbing off on me!

. . .

ICROSS Guest House

This is my home these days, the guest house at the ICROSS Kenya Headquarters (base). A quaint home, with walls adorned with striking, antique and elaborate, masks, spears, and swords from throughout Africa . . . the most impressive, the two 14th century decapitation swords that frame the fireplace. The front porch is a wonderful place for a morning espresso and book in the perfect high-70′s, eternally sunny, days. At night, the largest of the five dogs (half Yellow Lab / half Rhodesian Ridgeback), “Big Dog” (in lieu of his Maasai name that only Mike, the Director, can properly pronounce), curls up on the smallest of chairs and provides a bit of night-watch comfort. A second large dog provides additional security, while the other three small dogs (a recently arrived Jack Russell, an Arctic Fox bred Japanese Spitz, and a Long-Hair Pomeranian) provide the youthful vitality, good looks, and front-line barking as anyone approaches the large red gates. And supposedly, more large dogs will be arriving very shortly!

Michael Meegan, ICROSS Founder & International Director

The base grounds also contain another small house, home to ICROSS founder and international director, Michael Meegan, and friend Edward. The grounds see much traffic during the week, with another eight to ten full-time staff and various visitors who pass through the separate office building. The staff, in-house, as well as the field medics, project managers, volunteers, etc are predomintely local Kenyans who have a insider understanding of those they are aiding. Everyone I have worked with so far has been wonderfully warm, knowledgable, and inviting. For more information on founder/director, Meegan, there are countless web resources that can only begin to hint at his widespread and unique experiences and intelligence. 2005 documentary film on Meegan, entitled 4000 Goodbyes, makes reference to the 4000+ people he’s held over the last 30 years who have died in his arms to various disease.

Outside the base gates, guarded by a Maasai or Kikuyu tribe member at all times, is the small ‘town’ of Vet with minimalistic vegetable stands, a small supermarket, a photo ‘studio’, and other various stands. In Vet and the surrounding areas towards Karen and Junction (more established shopping circles / malls nearby), the road-sides are poor, though visually stimulating, and I look forward to photographing them one of these days soon. Whether it be the beautiful weather, or the lack of comfortable interiors, it seems as though everyone spends their days outside as the roads are lined with people walking, working, or simply sitting and socializing . . . I love it.

Driving through Ngong Town

. . .

Doc Johnson

This past week, I spent Monday through Thursday with Johnson, a Maasai man, and his immediate and extended family in the Kajiado District in the Great Rift Valley. It was a valuable and enjoyable experience in which I learned a good deal about not only Johnson and the Maasai, but also of myself and my threshold for how may I say, simpler ways of living. The traditional dung hut (left in photo below) contained the ‘kitchen’ and beds where the boys would sleep and the slightly larger iron-sheeted home (right) with dirt floor housed the living room and two bedrooms, one of which was the guest bedroom where I slept under mosquito net. At night, the wind blew fiercely, pounding up against the iron sheets and howling through the openings. The first night I laid in bed from 10:30pm until 5am, cold, very cold, and aware of each and every foreign noise that I attempted to justify in my head . . . it was a long, strangely intense, night. The two that followed, I rather wisened up and fell asleep to the soothing sounds of Nick Drake on my ipod.

Johnson’s immediate family consists of wife: Gladys, children: Alex (10), Faith (7), and Fredrick (1), dog: Tommy and cat: Pussy (I tell no lies). Contained in the same manyatta (traditionally known as a collection of huts / homes where the Maasai boys would live while away from home, training to become warriors . . . although in modern times, simply a collection of family homes) is Johnson’s father, his brother’s family (with cousins Jacob, Joshua, Esther, and Solomon), and his youngest brother, David. Also of the same ‘clan’ (another form of tribal relationship) are Lamayan and Saruni, two young traditional Maasai who are responsible for the family’s goats).

The Johnson Residence

Alex

Esther

Saruni (top) and Alex (bottom) displaying both contemporary forms of Maasai dress

The Maasai of today represent various forms of traditionalism. As more of the children attend school, they are increasingly influenced by western culture and especially by styles of dress. Johnson similarly dresses in a ‘western style’ for a professional appearance at work, but often resorts to his traditional red “Shuka” robe for walks during his free time. When asked of his opinion, he commented on the obvious importance of school, as long as the most valuable aspects of the tribal traditions are maintained. The Maasai are a respectful people, are rarely ever involved in tribal wars (unlike many other rivaling tribes), and are most welcoming to visitors in their homes and students of their culture. When a Maasai child approaches an elder Maasai, or guest of the elder, the child will bow his / her head for the elder to place his / her hand on the top of the head as the proper greeting; it is a beautiful display of respect. This cultural welcoming and respect are two simple examples of what Johnson feels is important to preserve Maasai culture.

Other interesting insights into Maasai culture – It was only within the last two decades that the Maasai would get a birth certificate when a child was born . . . and most often, including in present day, it is not rare to not know one’s own birthdate. Most have an idea of the year and season, but pinpointing a specific date is near impossible. Additionally, asking one his or her age is highly taboo . . . for the belief is that such a question knocks on fate’s door.

. . .

The long and (not so) winding road . . .

Each day, Johnson and I would trek over the many hills under the hot sun (hotter down in the valley than at the base) for an hour (roughly 5 km / 3+ mi) to and from the clinic at which he works, providing healthcare services to the local Maasai population, supported by ICROSS and funded by the generous contributions of its donors. Three weeks of recent rain (late Dec) brought a slight green reprieve to the otherwise burnt brown earth, the result of a three year drought . . . though the earth remains rough and the trees and brush razor sharp with various forms of their own thorned self-defense that tear one’s clothing as one walks by.

Thorn variety

While the evening walks home were tiresome, the morning walks were a nice ‘wake-me-up’ and gave Johnson time to engage with the local shepherds, family, and friends. Rarely did someone pass, even as far as a few hundred feet away, and not come greet Johnson, who’s know as a bit of a celebrity in the area for his healthcare work. On Wednesday, we passed by his cousin’s husband, nicely dressed and following his shepherds and herds of goats and cattle. In the last year, the man has lost some 75 of his 100 cows to the drought. In a culture where wealth is defined primarily by land and cattle (and next, goats), this naturally serves as a huge loss for his family. In an interview I conducted with Johnson later that afternoon, he remarked that he can only suggest to the Maasai people to develop new forms of sustainment and alternative forms of wealth; those that may better survive the often frequent and extended periods of drought.

Johnson converses with his cousin as the shepherd tends to the herd

At the clinic, the elder Maasai, typically dressed in their Shukas, and the younger in more modern ‘western’ clothing, would arrive throughout the morning and early afternoon after some walking many kilometers for Johnson’s treatment. At the clinic I befriended Samuel (16), a young man with dreams of one day practicing as a surgeon, after being inspired by the books of American neurosurgeon Ben Carson. Accompanying Samuel were peers Manuel and Kimoso, also very friendly and curious. Kimoso was one of three local youths I’ve recently learned of who are unable to speak or hear. As an alternative, he rather wonderfully communicates with those unable to understand sign language by using the nearest capable object to write on his arm.

Maasai family awaiting Johnson's care

Samuel

Samuel and Kimoso

Johnson's clinic late-day

Upon arriving home in the evenings, Johnson and I were greeted by the children and the thousands of flies covering anything and everything that didn’t move for mere seconds. Prior to arriving, I had maintained the ignorantly silly idea that the flies would only bother the unwashed or diseased, of which neither category did I fit. Never have I been so mistaken. From what I was told, they weren’t in quite such high numbers prior to the recent rains, but since, they’ve been at their highest. To put it in perspective, during tea time, if you brushed them away from your raised mug, by the time you reached the mug to your mouth, it would again be covered with another half-dozen flies lining the rim. Though fortunately they don’t know how to swim and so they, for the most part, stayed out of the actual tea itself! Similarly, as seen in many of the photographs, the same logic applied to brushing them away from Fredrick’s face prior to taking a photograph, in which they’d be right back in position before the snap of the shutter!

After tea, Alex, Faith, and I would head out to the soccer / futbol field (dirt area mostly clear of thorned brush) where their cousins would soon join us. Suggestions of bringing a soccer ball with me were wonderfully received and we’d play through dusk and well into the dark of night, lit only by the moon and stars. The children loved it, as did I, playing soccer in the Kenyan bush under the stars with these beautiful young children cheered on by the elegantly robed Maasai.

Alex

The Crew

Alex and Jacob battle

And to close out the evening, the family would join back in the family room for the children to finish their homework and eat dinner. It was a nice time, dimly lit by lamp, as the children would one-by-one fall asleep on the red, floral-patterned, couches. Following, Johnson and I would be served dinner, to the sounds of the radio news, jazz, or futbol. The time was quiet and modest, as the man himself . . .

Gladys and Johnson

Faith and Johnson

Faith

Gladys and Fred

Fred and Johnson

David concentrated on schoolwork

Alex

On two separate occassions, Johnson and Gladys, and Alex, told me they loved me, and on the last night, they presented me with a traditional Maasai bracelet, made by Gladys, to remember them and my time there. I was only there three days . . . this is testament to the warmth of the Maasai. The fact that I then spent some $50 on buying more of Gladys work for souvenirs is irrelevant! ; )

. . .

I thank you for reading and please stay tuned for updates in the week(s) ahead!

Seth

If you enjoyed this article, please consider sharing it!