Loita Hills

We had a free day in Nairobi to attend to basic needs (laundry, showering, sleeping) before heading off to another five-day hike through Loita Hills, a region of Kenya populated by native Masai. The hike itself was fascinating, although our tour guide, Patrick, was a strange and unpredictable character. The first day was supposed to be a drive from Nairobi to Magimoto (literally "water hot", a hot springs) followed by a couple hours of hiking before setting up camp. But because of "Akhuna Magi" ("no water"), we ended up hiking after dark and for several hours. Only with the assistance of motorbikes from one of the modern Masai towns were we able to get to a campsite with water. This was supposed to be the campsite for our second night.

On the first day, the landscape was very sparse. There was only very short patches of dry shrubs and the occasional spiky, thorned tree. We were surprised to see Zebra in this barren environment. It was quite exciting, though, to be hiking next to them with no car between us. The guide mentioned that although there were not lions in this part of Kenya, they occasionally saw leopards. The prospect of seeing a leopard during the daylight was exciting, but as it grew dark, less so. Perhaps it was because I had just finished a chapter in a book I was reading about the lost boys of Sudan in which some of the boys were picked off by lions during the nighttime, when the big cats usually hunt, but I was not thrilled about hiking in the dark. This feeling grew after we walked through a stand of trees and I heard a rustling in the branches followed by a whooshing past my head. It was probably only a bird, but I still screamed and ran.

We thought we were seeing things when, in the middle of nowhere, we saw a big blinking tower and were passed by several motorbikes. We were grateful, though, to reach the "modern Masai village" and to get a ride to our campsite. We slept well.

The next day was a much more interesting hike. We passed through more Masai towns, piquing the interest of nearly everyone we passed. Many did double takes at the three white girls hiking through their villages. "Supa", the Masai word for hello was often exchanged. We were able to visit a school while we were there. In addition to the 48 composition books and pencils we had purchased for the children, Savanni's bookstore in Nairobi donated pencil sharpeners and colored pencils for us to take to the children. The school's administration was quite happy with the donation and invited us to sit in on one of their classes, the 8th grade. It was a very strange exchange. Although there were very sophisticated words on the chalkboard such as biodiesel and solar power, the only words the students spoke to us were to tell us their names. They sang us a song. We tried to teach them a song. And we left.

Samwell, our Masai guide, explained to us that there were only three girls in the classroom because many of the girls had already been circumcised and sent off to be married. We ended up camping near to the school and, as a result, had children visiting us for most of the night. Like our previous exchanges, at first they were shy, keeping their distance, but eventually they ventured closer and before we knew it they were touching our skin, our ears, our hair, and our polished toenails or examining our watches and bracelets. Most of these exchanges were friendly and somewhat humorous, at one point Regina had pulled out her camera and the kids had run screaming. Samwell explained that they thought the camera would steal their soul. But older groups of kids welcomed the camera and, in fact, were quite delighted to see the photo of themselves appear at the back of the camera. Like the children we had met earlier, all of the kids (and most of the adults) had shaved heads. It was more difficult to tell the boys from the girls here, though, because the traditional Masai dress for met is a blanket draped around him as a dress or skirt. Also, adults greet children by putting their hand on the child's head.








The third day was very similar to the second day. We hiked through more villages. The one difference that really stuck out, though, was that there were several young girls wearing a crown of sorts and a royal-colored blanket. Samwell explained that this meant they were circumcised (a barbaric operation that is apparently still practiced) and available for marriage. It seemed impossible that these young, blushing girls who giggled, but refused to have their picture taken would soon be married and having babies. We also noticed that although many of the older Masai men and women had stretched ear lobes with beaded coverings that very few of the younger Masai, including Samwell, had such ornamentation. Samwell explained that many of the civilized Masai no longer observe this practice because it is very painful.





That night we had a beautiful campsite next to the river. It had been very hot, and we were excited to sit down by the river and write. I chose a big rock in the middle of the river to write postcards to my family and friends. Not 20 yards upstream from me was a woman washing her laundry by beating it on a rock. She was doing this while holding a very young infant. While watching her, two young Masaai boys herded their cows across the river. The cows and the boys seemed equally surprised by our presence and both stopped in the middle of the river to examine us. One cow came up behind me and brushed me with his nose. It startled me because I had never seen a cow willingly approach a human unless it was holding hay.


Before dinner it started raining very hard. We had to set up a tarp over our tent, which did not have a rain fly, while it was pouring and immediately afterwards it stopped raining. We tried to dry ourselves next to the bonfire (they had built giant fires every night of our trek to scare away wildlife) until dinner was served. Then we quickly changed into dry clothes and headed to the tent before it started raining again. We had only been in the tent for about 20 minutes when we heard this crazy noise that sounded like a donkey hee haw followed by a horse whinny and sigh. THis kept happening over and over again and eventually we opened our tent flaps to see Samwell hopping around the fire, teaching his Masaai song to our excellent cooks and porters, Joseph, Desmond, and Jasmine. By this time Patrick had transformed into Tito, and he was (trying at least) to pull off the full Masaai look. I wish I had grabbed my video camera because the scene was indescribable and I will never in my life be able to re-create that sound.

The next day was a beautiful, but incredibly steep hike down to the Masaii town of Gurimon. My knees ached. There were seven river crossings, one of which resulted in me sitting in the middle of the river trying (successfully) to save my camera while Samwell ran after my runaway chaco. Gurimon was also very modern by Masaai standards. There were some cars and trucks and electricity. We were excited to sleep in beds again and to Shower! Samwell invited us to see his home and meet his wife, Esther, and their two children. The house was a very modest brick hut, but Samwell insisted on carrying out padded chairs for us to sit on. It was a bit awkward trying to communicate, but an enjoyable experience.

The next morning, we loaded a local bus very early in the morning. It was packed full of people and produce. All luggage was stored on top of the bus along with many passengers. The other passengers crammed into the seats and aisles for the four-hour ride to the first drop off point. Some of the people standing in the aisles would lean over the back of seats, trying to sleep. The bus was so loaded down and the road so rough that at hills those who were physically capable had to exit the bus, walk over the hill, and meet the bus on the other side. At one point a very young woman entered the bus holding a very tiny infant. It was hidden in her sling, but when I noticed it was a baby, I made room on my lap and asked if she would like to sit down. She misunderstood me and handed me the baby. While the baby slept, it was so tiny and peaceful, but as soon as she opened her eyes and saw me she did not know what to think. She started wailing and my efforts at consoling her were unsuccessful. It was funny, though, by taking the baby for that short time, I broke through some kind of barrier. Before that, we were just being stared at, sometimes warily, by the Masaai surrounding us. After I took the baby, people started smiling at me and the woman sitting behind me even started stroking my hair, examining its length and color.


After handing the baby back to her mom, the mom started breastfeeding while standing in the aisle. I quickly offered her my seat. As I stood next to her in the aisle, the woman behind me tried to subtly touch my arm to examine my freckles. When she noticed me watching her, she smiled and put her black arm next to mine and pointed at them. It was a brief moment, but it reminded me why I love to travel. I love having my mind opened and opening the minds of others.