The Maasai house

Entrance to a Maasai house

It has been a week since I got home. Time is still scrambled for me, so I am constantly asking what day it is. I feel permanently discombobulated, but surely this unsettled feeling will pass. I can't really explain it, but it is like part of me got torn out and deposited amongst the people I grew to love. There is definite mourning involved.

I sit here in my living room, thankful for a soft chair, freshly brewed coffee... with clean water and windows that let in the morning light. Fresh, clean air. Comfort.

As we left the wells, Joseph taught us the Maasai name for the monkeys we had seen.

"We call them, black faced monkeys... in Maasai it is...." I tried to repeat the long, strange word and gave up. Normally I would repeat it until I knew it, but I just couldn't make my brain form the word in my mouth.

"How long has it been since you had rain, Joseph?", I had asked back at the wells.

"Right around 4 seasons."

"When you say seasons, do you mean YEARS?"

"Yes mum."

He had explained that occasionally they get "mists", but nothing that even registers as rain.

I think again of Pastor Joshua's hopelessness. I have been here less than a day and I can feel it pressing in on me.

Barnabas stops suddenly on the road. I look around wondering what wild animal he sees. Maybe a lion. He backs the truck up and then drives off the road. Nelly is pointing to something and directing him on where to go. We bounce along through the bush, sand and dust kicking up into our windows. Thorn brush is everywhere and Barnabas miraculously avoids it all. We pull up to a 5 foot wall made up entirely of the thorn brush. These thorns are 4-5 inches long and run the entire length of the branch. They are THICK and very sharp.

I think of Jesus and how thorns like these were shoved down into the flesh of His sweet head.

Here, they are used for protection. They build barriers that completely surround their houses. Each barrier is about 5 feet tall and almost as deep. The thorns discourage not only people, but wildlife too. They even have a gate that they pull shut at night.

Thorn barrier, Maasai house just behind

Nelly leads the way through the maze of thorns and we are greeted by Maasai children, a boombox and a skeptical looking matriarch. I smile at her. She glares. The children, like everywhere else I have been, clamor around me, trying to get their picture taken. I happily oblige. Their skin is white with the dust, sand combination. Only where their noses have run is there a path of brown showing what color their skin may actually be.

It is evident that they have likely never bathed.

Later, Joseph tells us about the parasite that lives in the dirt. It comes out at night, while the children are sleeping and feeds off the dirt on their bodies... off the children's skin.

We all start to itch at the suggestion.

Everyone has disappeared inside the matriarch's house. I follow Joseph to the door. My lungs start to close and anxiety sets in almost instantly.

"Joseph, you will have to make sure to bring me back out of this house quickly! I cannot breath in this smoke."

We walk through the entranceway. It is about 2.5 feet wide and 5.5 feet tall. The walls are made of cow dung and sticks. You can't help but rub up against it, the space is so small.

I am aware that Joseph is in front of me, only because my hand is on his back. It is pitch black. We enter a room filled with fire. Literally, it was a fire room. I see flame and smoke and a tiny crack of a window, about 5" square. Suffocation and death is sure to follow momentarily,I feel the panic start to rise up in me. The smoke is noxious (remember their fires are with charcoal) and I am thankful I remembered to pack my inhaler.

Joseph tells me about how when the police do raids with smoke bombs, the Maasai just walk away, unaffected. They are immune to the smoke because of their living quarters.

I feel my lungs and try to imagine spending more than a minute and a half in here. How would it be to sleep, breathing poison. What is their life expectancy?

We round a corner and again, I see NOTHING. I hear talking and know Joseph is leading me, but I really want to get out. I try to stifle my panic and keep walking. He leads me to the others, where they are crammed in the "master" bedroom. It is a room about 6x10, with a bed.

The bed is built on a frame of sticks, wrapped by rope, cow hide is strategically sewn to the frame. It hovers about 5 inches from the ground. Matriarch holds a small candle for us to see her "very comfortable bed". She has built this house herself and is very proud. (Maasai houses are always built by the women.)

Satisfied that I have seen the house, I tell Joseph to get me out. He points out the children's room as we walk out. I take it on faith that he is telling the truth, it was too dark to dispute.

As I step out, daylight and fresh air greet me with a gust of wind. I am thankful.

I snap pictures and show the children their faces on the camera. I think they have never seen such a device, as they giggle hysterically and name each other on the small screen.

Matriarch has softened toward me. I stand beside her and pose with a massive spear. She now glares with a twinkle in her eye. I think like Samson, she finds me amusing.

Wanda runs to the truck and solicits $$ from Ilene, who had chosen to stay comfortably beside Barnabas, in the truck. Eilene, relieved to have been spared, gives Wanda a $20 bill and the rest of us pitch in a few dollars. Nelly nearly passes out when she sees Wanda hand the money over. Matriarch smiles for the first time. I think she may have even giggled like the children.

We are escorted to the car. Boombox blaring, I can't help but do a little jig and try to persuade the children to join in. They just laugh hysterically and say no. Joseph tells me that they really like me. It is mutual.

We leave and Wanda asks her favorite question,

"Joseph? Are there snakes here?"

"Oh yes."

"But they aren't bad ones right? They aren't the poisonous ones, RIGHT?"

I smack him and tell him to tell her what she wants to hear.

He ignores me.

"Oh, YES, cobras and green mambas... yes, we have all those here."

Her mouth drops to her knees as she tries to talk him into changing his answer.

"The snakes like hey. The beds in those houses, rest on hey. The cobras come in and find a nice home under the beds. It is warm and cozy for them."

"um.... what?"

"When you lie on the bed, the cobra comes out, disturbed. But it is nothing. We hit it on the head and throw it in the fire, or on a tree. Cobra is small, I am big. I am not afraid."

"um....WHAT!?"

We drive off in silence, shuddering at the thought of cobras under our beds.