In preparation for visiting the Maasai land today, Julie reminded us that the Maasai we'd be visiting do not speak Swahili. So while working on our Swahili phrases is a good activity for us when we meet many of our new Kenyan friends, we'd need to find other ways to relate/interact with this particular group.
We had about a two-hour drive, along which we encountered some pretty fantastic potholes, one of which I'm confident could fell a good-sized elephant. Livingstone is skilled at weaving on and off and around the roads, and I'm happy to report that we neither flipped the van nor lost anyone to carsickness.
Along the way? Zebras. Oh, yes. Love. We wandered out toward a herd and we could see through my telephoto the band structure: Stallion out in front, guarding the others. Several foals at their dams' sides. Adorable. The herd turned their butts to us and looked like a bunch of UPC codes.
Onward to visit the Maasai. Most of the children were in school with exception of several youngsters. We met about 10-15 women, several of whom were dressed very traditionally: wrapped in brightly colored fabrics and wearing vivid beaded jewelry around their necks, in their hair, and in their ears. Some of their earlobes were stretched from wearing the traditional discs. Of the Kenyan tribes, the Maasai are those who have stuck to many of their traditions, both in lifestyle and dress. The place we visited is where they gather for church--they have some facilities for keeping cattle, sheep, and goats, and there are the ubiquitous chickens. The women were gathered, chattering among themselves and congregated around the kitchen. Not so different from America, I suppose. :-) Some of the younger women--I'd say they were in their early 20s--spoke both English and Swahili and were dressed in a more modern way with coiffed hair. We were admiring their hairstyles and they joked with us, saying they were striving to have hair like ours.
Indeed, we connected differently than with other people we’ve met. The connection point ended up being the photo books that we brought along to show what Lexington looks like and also photos of activities we enjoy and people that we love. The Maasai women were particularly amused by Christina’s photo of her son holding an alligator. Seems female squeamishness about reptiles crosses cultures. Team members and the men, women, and children we met spent a lot of time going through these books and communicating through the translator and also with some elaborate and not-so-elaborate charades. It was good fun.
A church isn’t a church in rural Kenya without a generator, a keyboard, and a PA system. We worshiped with our new friends, first with several of their songs (many old gospel hymns we knew), then with ours (which several of the younger women seemed to know). Once again I was reminded of how stoic much of American worship is—the Maasai dancing was unbelievable and I think we might have picked up a few of their moves. Christy took some video of the worship time that I hope we can share when we get home.
Julie spoke on the living God as evidenced by stories in Daniel. She also illustrated this concept, telling stories of answered prayer and proof of the living God from several experiences here in Kenya. Aside from the rhythmic hum of the generator and the occasional “amen” or clap from the congregation, the little church was silent, engaged completely in Julie’s stories that were translated, phrase by phrase into their language.
Next we moved into a time of teaching on dealing with loss. Jill spoke on the stages of grief and gave tips on what to do/say and what to not do or say to help the grieving. We split into three groups—two groups of women in the small building and a group of men outdoors—to discuss personal stories of dealing with grief. Again, through translators, we discovered we have more in common than you would think, despite our geographic distance and cultural differences. Our translator explained that historically, the Maasai culture is one that has feared death, but in individuals' conversion to Christianity, reactions have changed significantly. It seemed that supporting the grieving by helping them with chores, taking care of the children, and just standing beside them is something that the Maasai women desire. And while crying isn’t something that’s been encouraged in the culture before, it’s one that several Maasai (both women and men) today acknowledged they hope will change.
All throughout the afternoon there were interactions with the kids, women, and men of the group interspersed between activities in the church (and the obligatory trip to the choo—pit toilet ... we're going to have the tonest quads in Lexington when we get home from this). We shared a meal with our friends before saying goodbye and heading back to Nairobi. One of the toddlers was bawling as we left, wanting to come along with us!
The trip home provided a rare glance at two giraffes (commence the scene with me galloping across a field, long skirt hitched up above my knees, steering around the briars so I could get a closer shot with my camera, all to Rahab’s cries of “Stephanie, take care … be careful!”). We also were stopped in traffic for about an hour while the Kenyan president’s entourage passed, and then another hour in Friday night Nairobi traffic. We ended up walking several blocks home and had dinner at the guest house.
I’m not sure any of us will forget the colors and joy of this day, and how the Maasai women, men, and kids (not to be confused with goats J) touched our hearts. We weren’t sure how we’d communicate, but it was with an ease and joy that we should’ve expected with God’s help.
"You did no choose me, but I chose you and appointed you to go and bear fruit--fruit that will last." ~John 15:16
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