school
Two Cows for a Childhood
I lower my head and step into the darkness, where a teenage girl welcomes me with a smile, a little boy cuddled in her arms. Her worn out white dress, studded with tiny blue flowers, nearly reaches her ankles, creating an image too serious for her age. The boy must be around 2 years old, and the girl is in her teens.
“Where is the mother?” I ask the woman who brought us here.
“She is the mother,” Virginia says. Read the rest of this entry »
A Gift
“If I know a song of Africa… will Africa ever know a song of me?”
– Karen Blixen, Out of Africa
(From Fri., Nov. 7)
I was on my way home for a lunch break when halfway through, on a reddish path amidst a bunch of thorny trees, I heard someone calling my Kimaasai name, “Naisoi!”
I turned around and saw a girl running after me. I recognized her. She was the one who grabbed my hand Wednesday and promised that she’d bring something for me today. (We had no school yesterday because of the “Obama day”).
She caught up with me and pulled two colorful strings of beads off her wrist. She then put them on mine, twisting the two together into a pretty shape, a sea wave of every possible color. Read the rest of this entry »
Life in the Maasailand: school and family
I love the Maasailand. It is hard not to. It is so easy to like and be liked here, to give and accept, to listen and hear. People are kind, sincere and humble. They take great pride in their ways, yet they open their minds easily. You have to keep your mind wide open too, because new experiences await you aroud every corner. While people are good, life is often hard, and it is important to be flexible and patient. Read the rest of this entry »
I Bless the Rains Down in Africa
To experience true rebirth of your world, wait for the rain in Kenya. Wait just long enough during the intolerably hot dry season and you, too, will be reborn.
We had a week of the most impossible, scorching heat, when the back of your neck feels like a skillet, and the tiny drops of sweat emerge just under the tip of your nose. Read the rest of this entry »
Dreaming of Africa 