Well, my fist order of business here on the blog is to apologize for being so delinquent with the posts.  We have not had access to the internet as readily as we did last time.  Our connection in Narok was decent to start and then decided to poop out about the same time that all of the hotel’s electricity decided to hibernate.   Then, our first night’s accommodations in the Mara (more of that infamous eve to come) left us without power or water, much less broadband, so we were also out of pocket then.  But, now I am in a very rural orphanage in Makuyu, a couple of hours north of Nairobi, and I have the web (go figure)! At least at this moment, I am connected with the globe… and with you.

The past week has been… amazing, shocking, offensive, heartwarming, breathtaking, frightening and educational.  I’m devoting this post to the celebration with Brio’s family in Nkoilale and will try to catch you up on the days that followed in the next.  I determined that it would be near impossible to give you accounts of everything all at once.  That, and I’m a little beat, and my bunk bed is beckoning.

It was last Friday morning that we left Narok to set out for Nkoilele, a very rural and traditional Maasai village a few hours southwest of Nairobi, where Brio’s father grew up and now many of her relatives still live.  We receive word that it would be a festive celebration of her homecoming and an homage to her guests- everyone in our group.

After a trip that seemed longer than it really was, mostly due to the conditions of the road and the seemingly enraged driving style of our driver, we arrived at a small isolated primary school consisting of two basic structures that we later learned held their 600 students.  We were escorted by two Maasai men to the rear of the property where we found our lunch… or what would become our lunch.  The two colorfully draped warriors proudly presented to us two live goats that were tied to a tree and nestled into each other, appearing to know their fate.

The plan was for the group to witness the slaughtering of the goats before they were prepared for our consumption.  And that was carried out… mostly.  But a few of us walked away (including one of our group members who is only seven- and she was actually carried away), and the rest remained to look on as these timid little creatures were sacrificed for our nourishment.  I stayed, but only to observe the reactions of the others.  I had planned to take the whole thing in but decided that I just would rather not.  As it was reported to me, the two focused and austere warriors methodically each removed their bush knives from the sheaths holstered to their kangas and gracefully slid the weapons across each goat’s throat without hesitation.  They were each motionless in moments, and then the skinning and disemboweling began.

I’m almost certain that no one from our group remained after the commencement of the skinning, but I can’t be sure since I didn’t actually look behind.

We were all then summoned to another small structure on the property for a meeting with the town’s chief and many other community members.  Our group was ushered the front rows of seats and benches, and we took our positions amid the shining smiles and Maasai chatter.  The bare room was filled with the bright hues of the Maasai garb and an energy of warmth, hope and excitement.

The chief stood in front of the congregation and spoke of his delight with our arrival.  Another man translated his message and then also welcomed us and began to explain the crisis they were enduring there due to the drought.

We learned of the increased suffering in the area since Brio had been back eight years before.  The school is hoping to recruit more students, but most of the children who would otherwise be able to attend are currently being put to work during the day to retrieve water for their families.  Disease here has also become more prevalent, and the community is very concerned for the future of their consanguinity.  (A few days later, Brio and Bobby went back to research the area more to determine the feasibility of a water well there, and we will soon know if we can help!)

Brio also spoke to a classroom of young girls about her own connection to their village and her success as a woman.  The children listened acutely and gazed at Brio in awe and admiration.    She then introduced all of the other women in our group who stated their own education and career achievements.

After our meetings and visits, on of the school’s cooks announced that our lunch was ready for us.  We were each give generous portions of rice, potato and stewed goat.  Some of us were given goat stomach and intestine, and those people (who shall remain nameless), donated their meats to the local men who were delighted to receive the gift.

After our plentiful meal, we said hasty and sad goodbyes. We drove back to Narok that evening to stock up on sleep for our next two days in the Maasai Mara.

Do check back soon for our misadventures in the Mara:  being almost forcibly removed from our hotel and placed in staff housing (and I use the term “housing” there loosely), losing three members of our group to some viral infirmity, and witnessing an unprecedented (for our guide, at least) number of lion cubs in one area- and within two feet of our matatu!  We have also been to Lake Nakuru where we observed more pink flamingos in one place than even Austin, Texas can boast, and we’ve learned about a self-sustaining orphanage that hopes to be a model for many more to come.

Our drilling in Namanga was delayed a few days, but we broke ground today and should hit water mid-day tomorrow!  If the African stars align, I’ll be back tomorrow night to report on results on of big hole.

Kwaheri for now…

Mary Margaret Cooney- the world's best young Africa traveler

young Maasai warrior-to-be

Eric gets a lesson on Maasai marriage

Austin Cooney (the "wisest" of the group) takes a rest on the school's swing set

Mama Jet makes friends