Tuesday May 19, 2009
As I might have mentioned earlier, the Pastor (a Masai preacher who lives in the manyatta close to me) has become a good friend. Although his English is worse than most, we have been able to communicate fairly well. He is a “pastor” and holds church services each Sunday, but he is also a boda boda, a motorbike taxi driver. I call him quite often for a ride here or there. Pastor’s father was killed recently. 88 years old, he was struck by a car on Thicka Road while moving his cattle across. He was taken to Kenyatta Hospital (hell hole) and died some days later. One of the interesting realities here in Kenya is that the hospital will not release the dead body until the bill is paid. This goes for the mortuary fees as well. For some, this means the body is never released. For Pastor, they collected money from friends and relatives for 11 days before the funeral. The bill was 80,000ksh or about $1,000. Then the body could be picked up (by pick up truck) from the mortuary located conveniently next to the hospital. So on Tuesday I was invited to attend the funeral in the rural home of pastor’s father. At about 10 a.m. a pickup truck came to the nearby manyatta. I joined 21 other Masai in the back of the truck and we started the long journey to Kiserian and beyond. The women sang and chanted along the way. The men talked endlessly to me about life, the states and explaining what Masai do. Some were relatives of Fred. They all took good care of me. I was warned not to drink any water and not to eat the food which will always be served at funerals. When we reached Kiserian town, the truck with the body of Pastor’s father was waiting on the side of the road. We joined a small convoy and traveled deeper into Ngong Hills, a beautiful area of Kenya known for wild animals in the high hills – lions, leopards, cheetah and big elephants. We passed only zebra and assorted antelope. Once at the home of Pastor’s family, the coffin was taken to the elders, the top opened and each son from the oldest to the youngest was given the difficult task of rubbing milk and oil into the body. I’ll spare you the details. Then the 8 sons carried the coffin to the top of a hill where the service began. Preaching, singing and the reading of a eulogy. As was read to us in Kimaasai, pastor’s father was born in 1920, circumcised in 1945. (Interesting that fact is included in the eulogy). He married the first wife in 1954, the second wife in 1966 and the third in 1977. His youngest child looked to be around three years old! After the formal funeral rites and the body being lowered into the ground, Fred and I sat on a beautiful hillside eating cookies and water I had brought. The food was cooked and served. Men served men. Women served women. Meat, chapatti, potatoes and rice. I ate chapatti. We then crammed back into the back of the truck and headed to Nairobi, via Kiserian town. But, as often happens, we had a puncture. The tire was changed and we repaired it in Kiserian. The ride was long, dusty and cold. We huddled together in the back of the truck, wearing the colorful clothes around our heads to keep warm and avoid the dust. Fred was to be dropped off where he stay when attending school near Nairobi but because it was dark and too dangerous to be out alone, he spent the night at my place and headed to school early the next morning. Come to find out, there was another stabbing that night – a student was stabbed, robbed of 20,000ksh school fees and sent to Kenyatta Hospital (hell hole). The trip with the crew to the funeral was good in a number of ways. I learned so much about the culture, gender issues, funeral rites but I also made an impact on the males of the manyatta. It was the most time I have been able to spend with the adult males, who are usually looking after the herds. I think they are more comfortable with me around the manyatta and I feel closer to them all after spending a long day and evening with them.
The next morning Fred headed for school and I headed to the Village in Kitui to meet little Benerd, my friend who was to be operated on at Kitui Hospital. He has had a growth of some sort behind his ear and finally there was enough concern to have it removed. I went to the hospital and waited. Eventually Ben called a few times but the last call was saying that he was not coming and the surgery was delayed. He wanted me to come to the village where he had cleaned and prepared his room for me to spend the night. I did. It worked out fine. Although Ben’s surgery was postponed, I was able to tell him goodbye and spend some quality time with him and his grandmother and extended family.
On Thursday morning I took a motorbike to the main road and headed for Kitengela to see my friend George and his cousin Paul. I have not been able to spend as much time with George as I had hoped this trip so we shared a couple beers and some food and were able to say goodbye. I’ll call him later from the airport on June 2nd. George is always my last call when heading back to states.
On Friday we met with the teachers at the ECDE (preschool) and discussed a new HIV/AIDS curriculum. Mwololo developed it and it is basically good moral values that should be modeled and taught to the kids. In turn, this is a beginning step to understanding and combating HIV and AIDS. For example, one of the values and related activities is “patience”. Standing in line for porridge and to use the latrine shows patience and is a trait that will be needed in the future to postpone sexual activity. We start learning patience at a young age. There are other values to be taught, twenty of them so far. Each one, in the long term will help with AIDS related issues. Respect, love, discipline etc. all will pay off in the future.
Fred came home from school and spent the night at my place again. He is majoring in social work. Tonight I am planning on sleeping in the manyatta and saying my goodbyes to the Masai who I will miss while I am in the states. We talked last night about going out with the men in July. I’ll miss this big Masai event but it goes like this. 11 men go into the bush country where there are lions, cheetah and leopards. They will spend one month there doing nothing but eating meat. They will eat 11 animals, a mix of goats and cows. They will get very big. July is a cold month and they need the weight to stay warm and it will take the next 11 months to loose it as they begin the hard life again. July is a month of rest for the Masai men. It is not so much of a rest for the women. The men move out to the bush so as not to have to share the meet with the women or their children. There are parts of the cow designated to feed women, parts for children, parts for girls. It they go out into the bush country, they need not share it. Strange eh? Anyway, Fred was hoping I could go out with them for a while but the timing is wrong.
There have been a series of deaths and injuries lately. In Kajaido, the rural home of these Masai, a young boy was killed with a javelin while preparing for some games. A fourteen year old threw it and it pierced another young man killing him. Another young girl from our ECDE Center is in the hospital after being burned by boiled milk. There is death and hardship everywhere. It is a part of life here.
As I might have mentioned earlier, the Pastor (a Masai preacher who lives in the manyatta close to me) has become a good friend. Although his English is worse than most, we have been able to communicate fairly well. He is a “pastor” and holds church services each Sunday, but he is also a boda boda, a motorbike taxi driver. I call him quite often for a ride here or there. Pastor’s father was killed recently. 88 years old, he was struck by a car on Thicka Road while moving his cattle across. He was taken to Kenyatta Hospital (hell hole) and died some days later. One of the interesting realities here in Kenya is that the hospital will not release the dead body until the bill is paid. This goes for the mortuary fees as well. For some, this means the body is never released. For Pastor, they collected money from friends and relatives for 11 days before the funeral. The bill was 80,000ksh or about $1,000. Then the body could be picked up (by pick up truck) from the mortuary located conveniently next to the hospital. So on Tuesday I was invited to attend the funeral in the rural home of pastor’s father. At about 10 a.m. a pickup truck came to the nearby manyatta. I joined 21 other Masai in the back of the truck and we started the long journey to Kiserian and beyond. The women sang and chanted along the way. The men talked endlessly to me about life, the states and explaining what Masai do. Some were relatives of Fred. They all took good care of me. I was warned not to drink any water and not to eat the food which will always be served at funerals. When we reached Kiserian town, the truck with the body of Pastor’s father was waiting on the side of the road. We joined a small convoy and traveled deeper into Ngong Hills, a beautiful area of Kenya known for wild animals in the high hills – lions, leopards, cheetah and big elephants. We passed only zebra and assorted antelope. Once at the home of Pastor’s family, the coffin was taken to the elders, the top opened and each son from the oldest to the youngest was given the difficult task of rubbing milk and oil into the body. I’ll spare you the details. Then the 8 sons carried the coffin to the top of a hill where the service began. Preaching, singing and the reading of a eulogy. As was read to us in Kimaasai, pastor’s father was born in 1920, circumcised in 1945. (Interesting that fact is included in the eulogy). He married the first wife in 1954, the second wife in 1966 and the third in 1977. His youngest child looked to be around three years old! After the formal funeral rites and the body being lowered into the ground, Fred and I sat on a beautiful hillside eating cookies and water I had brought. The food was cooked and served. Men served men. Women served women. Meat, chapatti, potatoes and rice. I ate chapatti. We then crammed back into the back of the truck and headed to Nairobi, via Kiserian town. But, as often happens, we had a puncture. The tire was changed and we repaired it in Kiserian. The ride was long, dusty and cold. We huddled together in the back of the truck, wearing the colorful clothes around our heads to keep warm and avoid the dust. Fred was to be dropped off where he stay when attending school near Nairobi but because it was dark and too dangerous to be out alone, he spent the night at my place and headed to school early the next morning. Come to find out, there was another stabbing that night – a student was stabbed, robbed of 20,000ksh school fees and sent to Kenyatta Hospital (hell hole). The trip with the crew to the funeral was good in a number of ways. I learned so much about the culture, gender issues, funeral rites but I also made an impact on the males of the manyatta. It was the most time I have been able to spend with the adult males, who are usually looking after the herds. I think they are more comfortable with me around the manyatta and I feel closer to them all after spending a long day and evening with them.
The next morning Fred headed for school and I headed to the Village in Kitui to meet little Benerd, my friend who was to be operated on at Kitui Hospital. He has had a growth of some sort behind his ear and finally there was enough concern to have it removed. I went to the hospital and waited. Eventually Ben called a few times but the last call was saying that he was not coming and the surgery was delayed. He wanted me to come to the village where he had cleaned and prepared his room for me to spend the night. I did. It worked out fine. Although Ben’s surgery was postponed, I was able to tell him goodbye and spend some quality time with him and his grandmother and extended family.
On Thursday morning I took a motorbike to the main road and headed for Kitengela to see my friend George and his cousin Paul. I have not been able to spend as much time with George as I had hoped this trip so we shared a couple beers and some food and were able to say goodbye. I’ll call him later from the airport on June 2nd. George is always my last call when heading back to states.
On Friday we met with the teachers at the ECDE (preschool) and discussed a new HIV/AIDS curriculum. Mwololo developed it and it is basically good moral values that should be modeled and taught to the kids. In turn, this is a beginning step to understanding and combating HIV and AIDS. For example, one of the values and related activities is “patience”. Standing in line for porridge and to use the latrine shows patience and is a trait that will be needed in the future to postpone sexual activity. We start learning patience at a young age. There are other values to be taught, twenty of them so far. Each one, in the long term will help with AIDS related issues. Respect, love, discipline etc. all will pay off in the future.
Fred came home from school and spent the night at my place again. He is majoring in social work. Tonight I am planning on sleeping in the manyatta and saying my goodbyes to the Masai who I will miss while I am in the states. We talked last night about going out with the men in July. I’ll miss this big Masai event but it goes like this. 11 men go into the bush country where there are lions, cheetah and leopards. They will spend one month there doing nothing but eating meat. They will eat 11 animals, a mix of goats and cows. They will get very big. July is a cold month and they need the weight to stay warm and it will take the next 11 months to loose it as they begin the hard life again. July is a month of rest for the Masai men. It is not so much of a rest for the women. The men move out to the bush so as not to have to share the meet with the women or their children. There are parts of the cow designated to feed women, parts for children, parts for girls. It they go out into the bush country, they need not share it. Strange eh? Anyway, Fred was hoping I could go out with them for a while but the timing is wrong.
There have been a series of deaths and injuries lately. In Kajaido, the rural home of these Masai, a young boy was killed with a javelin while preparing for some games. A fourteen year old threw it and it pierced another young man killing him. Another young girl from our ECDE Center is in the hospital after being burned by boiled milk. There is death and hardship everywhere. It is a part of life here.
