Musings for Women's Day

This past Sunday was International Women's Day. It's funny... I know women all over the world, yet the woman who stands out to me is Ngoto Milai.

I don't have a polished piece on this "traditional Maasai." I just have some rambling thoughts about this lady I love.

Ngoto Milai doesn't have huge aspirations. She lives a simple life in a simple place, void of pretense, focused mostly on getting through each day. She collects her firewood, carries her water, repairs her house.

I can't really say how old she is. Her ID card gives some estimated year of birth. We sat and tried to work it out once. She wanted to say that she was as old as my Mom, but I knew that wasn't right. I can say that she has a number of married children and a growing number of grandchildren. Her youngest is the same age as Trevor, my 2nd born, who is 19. I know this because Kanunga was 8 mos. old when we moved to Loita and so was Trevor. So... she's older than me, and younger than my Mom. That's helpful :-)

Ngoto Milai lives in a traditional bread loaf house. That's what our family calls the low, rounded houses of the Maasai. She wove her walls of sticks and then plastered the whole thing with mud and dung. Like many in Loita, she has improved the roof by pitching thatch over the "crust" top. It's dark inside, which helps keep the flies from buzzing around the whole time. The little calves and smallest goats stay inside with her at night.

I know how the nights go there. I've slept in her house before. It starts out warm, too warm, kind of hot. Lying on the stick platform bed that is covered with a cow skin, my thin plaid blanket isn't even really needed because the fire in the earthen hearth is cranked up to heat the house up. But round about 3am things can start to feel pretty cold. July and August are particularly cold during Loita nights. The fire has died by those early hours and it's pretty miserable, really. Yet it won't be long before Ngoto Milai (and every other Maasai woman) will get up and start it again. She'll be up before dawn to tend the fire and the herds, milk the cow (assuming she has one) and make some tea.

The village Ngoto Milai lives in has tried to cultivate maize and beans during the last 10-15 years. It's a constant battle. The baboons raid it brazenly in the day while every critter from bushbuck to porcupine pillages it at night. The most destructive visitors are the elephants. They aren't too bothered by the thorn fence and they have a healthy appreciation for fresh maize. Sometimes in the night, they pass so close to the house that Ngoto Milai can hear their stomachs rumblings as she lies on her bed.

Some time around 15 years ago, we bundled Ngoto Milai into our car early in the morning and drove a couple of hours to the village she grew up in. She hadn't seen her mother in years and years and years. They cried as they greeted each other. It was a pleasure for us to simply facilitate a little family re-union.

Ngoto Milai has the same hopes and dreams that I do. She would like her children to do well in life. She hopes that her grandchildren will get a decent education. She wants to grow into her quiet years with peace. But her desires are also much more immediate and basic than mine. When she came to visit me in camp a couple of weeks ago, she sat and chewed the news with me for a long time. Finally, before leaving, she made a very simple request. "I need some food because everyone at home is hungry." I knew that she was not exaggerating. For her to ask me straight out on the first day of our visit revealed the gravity of the situation. I guess "economic downturn" looks like hungry people in her world.

Ngoto Milai has always been skinny as a rail and stubbornly upbeat. She works harder than most people I know. She faces life with grace and she prays like there is a God who hears. She'll probably never see more of the world than Loita.

Random memories:

Many breakfasts at our table. How do you say "waffle" in Maasai?
Running a deep hot bath for her when she was sleeping over and explaining to her what to do. (She loved that bath!)
The day she saved Colin from a puff adder.
The time she found me lying on the bathroom floor, too weak from vomiting to move, and she stayed and cared for me and the kids till Byron came home late that night.
The red dress my friend, Heather, made for her. She still asks after Ngoto Grace (Mother of Grace is Heather's name in Maasai.)
The day she took a red hot poker and burned a hole in the top of Byron's ear so he could wear an earring up there.
Teaching her how to scramble eggs.
Making popcorn for her kids over the fire at her house.
Crying with her when I saw her for the first time in 5 years.

Ngoto Milai is the oldest of 3 wives and has long been neglected by her husband. She cannot read or write. When she chewed the news with my Dad last month during our visit, she told me this:

"Tell your father I have something from God's word for him. Proverbs 3:5&6 says, Trust in the Lord with all your heart and don't rely on your own understanding. In all your ways, acknowledge him, and he will make your paths straight."

I love that lady. I pray safe paths for her. Happy International Women's Day, Yeyo-lai.



(Photos by Jesse Borden)

A Happy Wedding Afternoon

Dancing ladies, a sober and stunning bridal couple, awkwardly white visitors, tin plates piled high with African food, a PA system that was worse than nails on the chalkboard, joy, fun, love and marriage.

This was our Saturday afternoon.

Peter and Tammy, Byron and I went to the wedding of Adam and Lina out in a village called Kiserian. (For those who care, Kiserian means peace, peaceful or peacefully in Maa.)

Sorry to not have any neat photos of the event. I never remember my camera anymore and I’m kind of out of that need-a-photo-of- everything mode.

Anyway, the village is wonderfully simple and filled with the familiar sounds of Maasai voices. It’s not the traditional Maasai setting of little dung huts. Things are FAR more developed than the “neighborhood” we used to live in years ago in Kenya.

The family had made a tarp of tied together sheets etc and rigged up a covered area where all the reception guests gathering in chairs facing forward. We were seated at the front near the bridal couple whose stood facing the crowd.

Let me say that they were both gorgeous, if a little tired from a long wedding day. Now they had to stand while the guests filed past to shake hands and give their gifts. I wished for their sake that they could #1 smile and not look so serious (it’s very African to look serious for events like this) and #2 sit down!

I was struck with the funny collection of western traditions that were all mixed through the event. Mostly, I was thinking of the decorations: plastic flowers on tables, plastic leis around the necks of the bridal pair, sodas in bottles set out in front of the bridal party, tinsel, banners, balloons.

I thought about how we would say they were using things out of place. Like leis belong at Hawaiian themed things, or balloons are for birthdays and tinsel is for Christmas. That’s what westerners might say. But I thought about how weird we are in the west to dictate what can be used when. Why not decorate with whatever you feel like using? Ok, I would avoid plastic flowers but hey, they were pretty darn practical out in that dusty village setting.

Tammy and I noted that a lot of the ladies came in matching outfits. Sisters or girlfriends or whatever would have matching dresses. They also really go for the big clip in hairpieces at these events. Lots of big stuff perched on heads.

The swaying line of dancing women who presented their gifts with enthusiasm inspired Tammy and I. We decided that we’re going to get us some matching duds. Yep, we need matching wedding kits. And we need some good hairpiece things from the States. I’m thinking a beehive clip-one would look really cool on both of us.

I promise you this, if we get this together and go to another wedding, I will NOT forget my camera.

Chai Break

I like this photo Jesse took of Gabby and Carly drinking tea with Heather in a little hoteli (food joint) out in Maasai.

Gabby and Carly were young girls when we first moved to Portugal in 2000 (and we've actually known Carly since she was one) but now they are grown and here with us in Tanzania on a summer team. It feels really precious to me to have our first team be mostly made of kids we've known since they were small.

Next week the team will be taking a few Swahili lessons and helping out at an orphanage in town. What a nice thing to have them here and to host their African experience :-)

Our House.... Not in the middle of the street!

This is where we lived from 1989-1999 in the Loita Hills of southern Kenya. It's a long way from anywhere else :-) Hennie Marais in England sent us this photo yesterday. He was there recently.

I post it for Carrie because she lived here on this same clearing as a little girl before our family did. Her house sat right where this one does but it was made of wood and, sadly, it was destroyed by fire a couple of years after we moved in. We built this one out of stabilized soil blocks, which are very like adobe blocks. Byron and a crew of Maasai friends made them. It's a great house. Now our very dear friends at Walking With Maasai headquarter there.

So here's a shout out, (though they rarely have the chance to go on-line,) to our friends at Walking with Maasai: Andre, Kashu, David and Francis... We love you and pretty much think the world of you!