Journal Entry

Where will W&L take you?, originally uploaded by Benjamin Long.

This is an excerpt from August 6 in my journal. It is when everything became overwhelming.

It is amazing how one 15-minute walk can summarize my two week stint in Africa. I leave the mission with 100 screaming children all yelling “Bye Mzungu Bye Mzungu” (Mzungu means white tribe). They swarm me as I walk all wanting to grab my hand or just simply touch my skin. The very young children still cry when they see me, but not today. I make it out alive and start my hike. There is a Maasai women staring at me along the path. I am used to it by now because everyone stares at me.
There are 6 or so men building the district commissioner’s house along the way. They all stop what they are doing to stare at me. One yells, “Hello,” and I reply, “Habari.” (Hello is Kiswahili) They all laugh and continue to stare until I am out of site. I think I am in the clear when I see two young Maasai boys running on a path the intersect mine just ahead. I know what is getting ready to happen and I know what they want, money. They put their hand out and start saying, “give me money, give me pen, give me, give me, give me.” I say no many times but they proceed to follow me picking up rocks along the way. I know what is going through their minds… “We can take this Mzungu”. Keeping in mind these boys look about 5 or 6 years old but they look about 10 because almost all of the children here are anemic. I stiop walking and tell them to put down the rocks and to go back to their ingishu (cattle) they are herding up the mountain. About that time, their little brother comes running up the path. He couldn’t have been older than 4 years old. He is wearing a tattered piece of cloth that is wrapped around his body with no shoes, under garmets, just one piece of cloth. He has snot pouring from his nose pooling between his lips which is quite common with most children his age. When I see the young boys coming, one of the original two says, “Look, good picture, very sad right, give me money.” There is no shame in any of this.
This weekend I took the Dolla Dolla (bus) from Kimokouwa to Namanga with my friend Luka. I had slept about 4 hours the previous two nights in a boma with 2 morans (warriors) on the same bed of sticks covered with goats hides. I had went on a 12-hour hike up the mountain to orpul the day before and needless to say was is a terrible mood before I even got on the bus. I crammed into the bus with people being packed on top of other people. We manage to squeeze 22 people into a van the size of a Volkswagen van. The Maasai lady to my right and the two in front of me had very small babies on their lap. They all smile and start begging. Two of the three stop after I repeatedly say no about ten times but one continued. She then took her baby from her lap and put her on my lap. The baby was maybe 1 year old with snot pouring from his nose and water running from his eyes which could be the early signs of river blindness. I was filled with guilt, sadness and anger. Guilt that I have been so very fortunate, sadness at the very dim future that lie ahead for the child, and anger at the l;ady for having no shame in using her suffering child for a handout.
Back to my walk, I made the boys drop the rocks and go back to their cattle. I continue to hike with many foreign sounds of nature causing me great fear and wonder. Lizards are everywhere ranging from an inch to a foot long. Baboons are calling to each other ahead signaling my arrival. Many birds are chirping melodies I have never heard before. The ridges are filled with cattle and goats and their bells give a constant background tune to blend in well with the wild birds. The cow-bells give a slow and steady ring while the goat-bells have a much quicker pace. Combined, they transform the red dirt, acacia trees, huge volcanic boulders and brown grass into my retreat from the constant depression I feel below.
Hiking is my retreat from constant depression and eyes constantly fixed on me. No matter where I am at, people just stare at me. Here on the mountain, upon a volcanic boulder about 50 ft. high suspended in air, I am happy and at peace. I can hear the sounds of Maasai boys above me singing songs as they tend to their cattle. The sounds of the bells still fill the air and a warm breaze is blowing up the valley. I am tired, sick, depressed, homesick and scared most of the time but moments like this make all my troubles disappear…