Camel Diary - Day 12

Last day for me on the Camel Trek

I am watching Abdi bring the camels in, he has his stick and herds them in, tapping their front feet, saying “tu tu” and they drop down for the night, chewing their cud all night, burping and farting. The boys tie their front leg together so that they don’t wander overnight. Although, the first night of the trek we had one wandering around at 3am. They sometimes lie on their sides, sometimes with their necks and head on the ground. And they wait patiently until morning, some mornings we are very lazy and don’t untie the camels until 11am when the boys think about letting them go. By then there is a big puddle of piss and shit underneath the camel but they don’t mind, they lope off for something to eat and it all dries up in a few hours.

Today we have walked to Ladala, an easy 3 hour walk following the steamer (electricity) power lines. It was a really nice day, loved it, my last walking day. The weather is lovely and the company so much fun. Mercy and Ester lagged a bit behind, but Ester managed to collect managu, a weed-like green plant, that is a bit bitter but is tasty enough to spice up the ugali.

 

We arrived at the local school and given permission to camp, later two old muzee (old men) come, probably a bit drunk, looking for money for camping because of the mzungu. We buy a goat! YAH! We are sooo excited. The boys show off drinking the blood and I get to see the whole killing/cutting/cooking process from start to finish. What a first! The things I am getting to experience on this trip!

 

The school is empty (school holidays) and I am told it has 700 students, and 6 teachers. The plaque says 420 (in 2005), they sure do need family planning services here! The school was built by the Korean government, and there is a very useful water bore/pump provided by the Japanese government, the water is a bit salty but very, very good. There have been lots of plaques from World Vision on our travels; they seem to be doing good stuff.

 

 

The goat is roasted, the best bit = ribs on a stick, we pick and lick and enjoy. What a great meal. Then we have cubes of meat, very chewy, and later a soup of some bones because Mercy has teeth problems. The carcass hangs from the verandah, everyone is happy. In the morning with our delicious chai, Koloseg eats the balls of the goat! Burnt to a crisp. OMG!

Camel Diary - Day 11

Still at the Lorora at Mparringon, we go out in the morning to try and mobilize the women for our family planning services. We are not very successful again; people are distracted with the celebrations. The girls go to the Lorora to mobilize and I go with the boys down into the small plots of land and manyattas below. Before starting, we stop in at a manyatta where we heard there was a very sick man.

The slowness of African exchanges are very painful. When someone approaches, it is hesitantly, slowly, softly. A small ‘sorpa’ (hello) or ‘eseerian’ (hello all) is spoken with an ‘oyie’ in return. Pausing, then a small dialogue “how did you sleep?” etc with lots of “eeer” inbetween. Very slow! Then just stand a look at each other, then an exchange starts very slowly, softly. No direct coming to the point here. There are also no introductions of names, or who-is-who. Often it can be ages until I am included in the conversations, even when they speak very good English!

The old sick man is inside the house; initially the insolent wife doesn’t care about our approach. Eventually she bades us to enter the manyatta, I decline, Koperi & Mercy go in and come quickly out. This is a very, very poor family, the manyatta is made of twigs and mud. There are about 6 kids and a young girl with a baby. The time passes, slowly. We just stand there. Eventually he comes out, a very tall, old thin man. He is incoherent; Koperi tries to investigate what is wrong. He has been to hospital so we ask to see his papers. A backpack is brought out by a small boy; he seems to be the one that cares for the old man. They all rummage for ages and ages in this backpack, it holds the only papers that they own. Only a few small things, some small id cards, a political party “visitor” card (which the old man keeps trying to hand to Mercy our nurse) and eventually a black plastic bag reveals a yellow hospital card and a packet of pills.

It turns out that this man is HIV positive and was at the hospital a month ago and given some double strength antibiotics suitable for HIV patients that will protect him from pneumonia, meningitis etc. The card indicates that he should return soon, but he has not taken any of the drugs. The wife is ambivalent and did not want to give the pills to the old man, (I suspect he did not treat her very well in their lifetime). The old man is somewhat incoherent, but we persuade him, with the help of the small boy, to swallow some water and a tablet. They are big and it was quite an effort. Mercy spoke gently to the boy and said that if he loved his father, he should take care of him and make sure he took his tablets and also take him back to the hospital. Such a sad thing to witness.

We continue walking down the valley trying to mobilize some women for family planning. The most enjoyable experience, I have found, is being invited into a manyatta for chai. LeKuyieya Kuyieya, Koperi, Abdi and  I sit in a smoky hut (the roof is a bit higher in these permanent manyatta’s than the ones in the Lorora, and it is a bit more spacious) with a  beautiful Samburu lady and her small daughter, both with their colourful neck rings and anklets. Small talk and jokes, it is very nice, even though I don’t understand a word! Her mother arrives, an older lady with wicked sense of humour. So funny. I love the African way of laughing and joking constantly, I hear it now as I sit on the jerry can next to the fire writing my diary and everyone chattering over me. The early morning chat of the boys in the cold, cold mornings is a pleasure to listen to too. Amazing how their keep their humour in such adverse conditions. It is not dirty humor, but cheeky. Not putting down, like Aussie humour, but simple yet so funny, with short, sharp sentences. Eeerooor.

20 litres of water, if Mercy can do it ... I can do it!  Phew!

 

Ugali (maize flour) and cabbage for breakfast, lunch and dinner. 

LeKuyiere makes a herbal remedy from the root of a plant.

The reason I am invited to join the camel mobile clinic, is to provide a report to the US donor on the operation of the solar fridge carrying vaccines for baby immunisations.

And a calf is born right under our nose.

Camel Diary - Day 10

Today is the big day at the Lorora at Mparringon, cows are being slaughtered left, right and centre.

Richard and Musarini want us to photograph the proceedings, it is quite something big. We (girls) are only allowed in after the main killing, blood drinking and the carving of the meat is done, no women allowed. The men get the best bits, of course. The cow or goat carcass is left on the ground with the skin stretched over the top for the women to carve up the intestines, internal organs, head and tail. Every single bit is used, even the excrement is pushed out of the intestines so that they can be used for the old mama’s, I am told. Goats and cows lie on bunches of grass everywhere. Fires are started and kidneys, livers and other bits are being cooked. I am offered liver, the best bit, eaten first. Every bit has a purpose and a person allocated to it. For example, Lynne (an educated Mum here for her educated son) breaks the goat neck into sections and hands liver, neck and intestines to the old aunts.
 

 I glance into the men section and see a mountain of meat being cut up, astounding to see. You certainly can’t be squeamish in a situation like this or it would be too overwhelming. There is a huge fire being prepared in the men’s section, they are going to have a feast! The women put their small bits into their plastic (grain) bags for later. More and more men stream in, they are going to be eating a lot. I really would like to see what is going on there, but it is forbidden.

  There is one other mzungu here, an old German lady, she has married a Samburu man, a younger man. She talked about how the age difference has now become a problem; she has been here many years and left her life behind in Germany. They have some land and she grows/sells vegetables, she’s a bit cranky and hard to understand, mostly speaking German. Her husband is with the warriors so I don’t get to see him to make an impression of what kind of relationship they might have. She seems very arrogant as she tries to steer me around.

 

I chat to Lynne again who is uncomfortable pushing shit out of goat intestines; she is hot and sweating and says this is really not her thing but does it for tradition. She is with her extended family – her old father-in-law is overseeing things. They have slaughtered a cow and 3 or 4 goats. Her son, Kelvin, is in university at Nairobi, but is of the right age group, so he has come for the ceremony. Her husband, Samuel comes over, he is a teacher north of Maralal, again we have a discussion about the traditional ways (good and bad). 

In the afternoon, LeKuyieya, Koperi and I return to the Lorora, it is in full swing. There are 3 circles of Morans dancing within different age groups. The married, older guys are certainly not interesting – no decoration to be seen! The young men are all fired up, dancing and jumping. It is late afternoon and the sun is pretty fierce, initially I try to stay in the background, but a huge group of kids surround me, impossible. They are curious; they want to see the pictures, they jump in the way, aargh. I wish I had an invisible cloak! I try to move away, time and time again, some of the Morans get pissed off and run and scare the kids away. As the afternoon wears on, the Morans approach me for photos, posing over and over again. Everyone is constantly watching every move I make. Eventually I am drawn into the dance, as the dance pauses, two Morans hold hands, still singing, approach me and touch me on the head and whip me with their red ochre hair. It is a sign that they are interested, now they all have a go. I think they liked my reaction: laughing, with mock shock.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Musarini approaches again, and also Samuel & Lynne and family I invite them back to our camp, I am in a good mood so there is lots of laughing, joking and slow walking. It has been an awesome day. I am dehydrated and sun burnt again. And we only had 5 family planning clients today. Opps. Too bad! 

 

 

Camel Diary - Day 9

We arrive at Mparringon and camp close to the Lorora (gathering). Temporary manyattas (houses) have been set up especially for this ceremony to celebrate Morans (warriors) becoming elders. Fortunately we have arrived at the tail end of the celebration, and over 100 cows and 50 goats are to be slaughtered over the next few days.
There have been about 70 manyatta’s constructed in a circle for about 10 months; this is in preparation for the ceremony to celebrate Lmuget: when Morans becoming elders, once they are elders they are free to marry. Note: all celebrations happen via age groups, so the Morans at the celebration range from 15 to 30 years old. A Lorora happens once every 8 to 10 years. I am very, very lucky to witness this.

We enter the Lorora and see that each manyatta is made of old rice bags, mud, cow dung and grass, it is a small hut, with one tiny window. It has a bed of cow skin (very comfortable), low stool, small fire (very smokey), it is dark and small inside. A very nice old lady invites us inside for chai. LeKuyieya, Safina & I sit on her bed/stool and take chai, they talk about the fact that over 100 cows and 50 goats will be slaughtered tomorrow. The Morans will cut their long hair off, cover their head in red ochre and after this ceremony are free to marry. If they have had children before this ceremony, he will have to pay an extra cow and 10,000 ksh to the chief. At this ceremony every Moran has to contribute 2 cows to tomorrows feast. Safina and the old lady have a discussion about how many cows are being slaughtered and what a waste it is. Many people will come for the feast, all the meat will be consumed (hopefully we might get some! We have not had meat for a week). The value of one cow is 60,000ksh ($60) – imagine if all that money was put towards a school, health centre, etc?  Later I chat to Richard, a university educated Moran (banking) and he agrees: keeping traditions are great but some of them do no favours to the community. “Some are good, some keep us back”.

Note: “come-we-stay” is the word used to describe a defacto marriage that occurs before a Moran has been thru a Lmuget and is then allowed to marry.

Richard wears a kikoi (fabric wrapped around the waist). All the men do, even our camel handlers wear it as normal everyday wear. The kikoi is held up by a colorful, beaded maasi belt that also holds a big knife in a hand-made sheath, and a pouch for the mobile phone. The Morans then have red painted hair (ochre) and many, many beads around the neck, looping under the arm and over the chest. They are bare-chested. There are beads all up the neck and lots of bangles on the arms. They wear plastic flowers on the head and more beads around the chin. They carry a rungu (club) for defending themselves (against snakes etc) and a sobura (longer stick) to clear the way and to look after their animals. A siere (thicker, stronger stick) is carried by older men, it is very important and put close to their heads while sleeping. A Moran will carry 2 spears, they are leaned up against a manyatta while visiting, the young Moran’s spear is slightly different to the older men – so girls know not to go inside when an old man’s spear is leaning against it. A Moran will allows stand with his leg crossed and his stick between the legs.

 

(see that the end of his knife sheath is made from plastic bottle!)

 

As we sit in the smoky manyatta having chai we need to invite some Morans inside. LeKuyieya is married with a 4 year old boy and 2 month old girl, but has not been thru the Lminong ceremony

(this allows a husband to take chai/meal with his wife or other female. A Lminong ceremony takes place after the Lmuget – this one).  Two Morans join us to have chai, what a picture! they look amazing, including the white plastic sandals and plastic flowers on the head. They sit on the bed in the small smoky room, LeKuyieya on the stool, lady by the fire and Safina & I in the doorway. The 3 of us have tears streaming down our faceand sniffing noses from the fire. Again this is not a typical tourist experience, it is the real deal. Wow.

 

Later in the day we return to the Lorora on the invitation of Richard and Musarini, two university educated brothers who have asked me to photograph the dancing. Morans try to present an arrogant stance, they are very proud of their appearance, preening and adjusting. The jumping and singing goes on for quite a while, I am thrilled to be part of it, then an old man blows a horn and this ushers all the women and children to leave, us included.