I know, I said I’d try to write on weekends. And I’ve tried. But the Internet access I have (or rather don’t have) is far from adequate, so without further explanations, I’ll get to the point.
To say that I love it in the Maasailand in Kenya would be saying nothing. Words are weak carriers of the things I see, hear and learn every day. Life is comprised of drastic differences here: beautiful, kind and welcoming people and people who try to take advantage of you because of your skin color; the days when sweat seems to be the only thing preventing your body from catching on fire and freezing nights under three blankets; absolute poverty of the slums and posh lodges across the road; dry weeks with no cloud above and days of nonstop pouring rain that erodes the road and makes it nearly impossible to get to the nearby town… I could go on and on like this, but as a result, there are few neutral emotions here, the feelings you feel are black and white with a very precise line in between.
I am blessed to have the most wonderful host parents in Saikeri, the Maasai village I’ve come to call home, and I wouldn’t trade a foggy sunrise over the Ngong Hills for a morning anywhere else.
In her “Out of Africa” book, Karen Blixen called these hills “among the most beautiful in the world.” I am blessed to wake up and go to bed at the foot of this beauty every day. I feel truly alive here, truly at peace with nature.