Sandalman and the Milkmaid

The End of an Era

2011-06-14T10:27:00.000-07:00

We parted company with our Land Rover last week, the old 110 that has been in the family for 20 years. Not just a Land Rover, but a ‘true friend’ as one member of the family put it. Twenty years ago, it was our pride and joy as it came to us brand new – our first ever, and still only, brand new vehicle. At that time it was a pick up with the logo of our landscaping company proudly emblazoned across the back.

Six years later, the body was changed to accommodate our family, and it was rolled onto a ship and off again in Dar es Salaam. I still remember it arriving in our compound in Arusha and how we all threw ourselves at it and into it because it was ‘family’ from home and we were all desperately home sick back then.

Since then it has been looked after with tender loving care as it has covered over 250,000 miles on pot holed tarmac, on dust roads and on no roads at all.

Despite needing some new body parts over the years and the driver sometimes needing a quick kip along the way, the 110 has never failed us.

It has crossed dry river beds, and not such dry ones. On one particular night, we were stuck the wrong side of a flash flood while our unsuspecting children slept at home alone on the other side. We paused, prayed, clutched the steering wheel, one of us closed our eyes and the other put his foot down. The water surged over the bonnet, blocking out the head lights and one of us screamed as the back wheels lost traction and the car slewed downstream but we made it and left the foaming torrent behind us.

During El Nino in 1997, it pulled a Toyota Land Cruiser attached to a Hiace mini bus up the Rift Valley Escarpment road, whilst loaded up with four adults, five children and all our camping gear. (Why didn’t we take a picture of THAT?) On another day we came upon about 10 safari vehicles completely stuck in the mud with their tourists still on board or standing around playing frisby. We revved up, put our foot down and roared into the grassy bog, skidding and sliding, but moving slowly forwards to shouts and cheers from the frustrated onlookers. Just as we were losing momentum the front tyres touched the hard shoulder and we made it onto dry land.

There was a time when the doors took on a mind of their own (actually MOST of the time) and I was driving round a roundabout with my shopping on the front seat. The passenger door flew open, I clutched the steering wheel with one hand, the shopping with the other and negotiated the roundabout shouting as I went ‘Get out of the way, get out of the way!’ As we towed it away last week, both the back doors flew open and banged shut again in rhythm with every bump. I smiled all the way.

It once had a baby born in the back seat and then sadly it carried its little body home from the hospital to be buried 6 months later. We nearly had our ear drums burst one day when we carried 18 Maasai women (plus 6 children) ALL singing at the top of their voices in ear-piercing female falsetto.

We vied to ride on the roof rack where we worked our way through our entire repertoire of songs with the wind in our hair, the sun burning our faces and arms and marvelled at the privilege of living in such a wide open, beautiful land.

In fact, it was always more fun sitting ON it rather than IN it, especially when looking for the right way to go.

Our three children learnt to drive in it and then slept in it as we drove down to Victoria Falls and back while we slept on the roof. And that was just one of many fun adventures.

It took us to our ‘country cottage’ for weekends.

It provided hours and hours of ‘boy’ fun and a very good grounding in mechanics and off road driving.

Yesssss.....

Mmmm, flat as a.........and I wonder if I remembered to pack the jack?

And there was never a dull moment anywhere... but there was always a way out. Life with a Land rover is one big initiative test!

Once in the bush ‘somewhere,’ the rubber bushes on the rear shock absorbers had worn out and metal was pounding against metal on every bump. We stopped a bewildered goat herd and bought his tire sandals off him for a VERY good price, which we turned into new bushes (they actually lasted a couple of years). I wish I could have been there when he explained to his parents why he had come home barefoot!

The electrics failed as it got dark one evening when we were still 300 miles from home with not a hill or even faint rise in sight. We found an anthill and reversed up it as far as we could, rigged up a net and slept on the roof. Amazingly, in the morning, it fired up as we rolled off to the flat.

One late night, it even drove us home from Nairobi (a five hour drive) on a nearly empty tank and prayer because we had run out of money.

And our visitors loved it too.

Most of the time.......................

Hopefully, all salvageable parts will 'live' on and on and on, as only Land Rovers can, for many years to come elsewhere.

Lost

2011-06-04T05:29:00.000-07:00

Saigare was not at home. I half expected him not to be. It was late in the afternoon and his boma (group of family huts) was our last stop before heading home. I leaned on the bonnet of the Landrover and looked out over the dried up soda lake. He would definitely have to move again when the rains came as this would all be swamp. It was dry and dusty and even now I could only just make out the very top of Ol Donyo Lengai (Maasai Holy Mountain) in the distance as a huge dust cloud had been whipped up by the wind and was advancing like a curtain across the mountains in the distance.

I could feel a fresh breeze in my face so we turned around and headed off into the scrub. I was the only Mzungu (European) in the group with Maiko and Lekoko, both Maasai, and Geti, a Mwaarusha. We had had a long day distributing food and I was hoping to find the track that would lead us safely back to the tarmac road. Somehow, in my mind I had an idea that it would all be quite straightforward and simple. I was looking forward to being back with Lisa, anticipating telling her of the day’s events and all the people we had met.

I began to get annoyed when I couldn’t find the track nor could I recognise the korongos (gorges) we were crossing. The sun had lost its strength by now and was heading for the horizon and I knew it would be a whole new world out there in the dark. Despite my anxiety Maiko was cheerful and had already worked out how we could spend the night in the back of the pickup. Maasai are quite used to sharing a bed with their own age set but I was thinking that I’d rather drive all night!

I took out my new GPS and looked up the tracks that I had stored . It was blank, not a single track. I then realised that I must have deleted the whole memory when I thought I was deleting a single track. Now I was not only anxious but really annoyed, partly for the inconvenience but also for the loss of the log of a long and strenuous track that had disappeared into the ether. I decided never to rely on modern technology.

I decided to follow the advice of those ‘what-to-do-when you’re-lost’ books and ‘traverse the terrain’ hoping to cross a track, any track would do. When we arrived at the top of a hill that I thought I knew, I found I was in fact looking across a huge gorge straight at the very hill I should have been on. Now I was dismayed and disorientated and the sun was minutes away from the horizon.

Someone saw a herd of cattle behind us so we turned hoping to get some local advice but we came again to the edge of an enormous gorge. Everyone got out and wandered down to the bottom to see if there was any way across. I sat in the Landrover and tried to ring Lisa but there was no signal. We obviously weren’t going to be getting back in good time. My hopes of a light supper and an evening with my wife were fading and I was more than a little irritated. I asked God for ‘just a track,’ thinking that our problems would be solved once we were on the right path as all tracks eventually lead to the main road.

I picked my way rather bolshily amongst black volcanic boulders, anticipating a struggle to cross the gorge but as we crested the opposite bank I was surprised at how easy it had been. I presumed God might want thanking for that, but we were still a long way from home so said nothing.

The herd of cows turned out to be a flock of goats and sheep and were standing outside a boma being milked. I anticipated coming across a simple lad with a scraggy herd, madly driving them home before dark but instead we were greeted by a short weather beaten man whose wives and small children slowly emerged from their huts shy and smiling. The older boys greeted me in Swahili but the women only spoke Maa. He said he would show us a track that was not far from the boma and we gave him some of the remaining food we had to distribute. The women laughed in delight that food had come to them all the way out there, free and in the dark! I was glad that we could help them and relieved that we had found some reliable advice. I noted the man’s name in my GPS tracklog, so that I could visit him again (hopefully).

His sons ran ahead in the headlights, barely discernable in the dark and I tried to follow all the gesticulated instructions. However we arrived at a small gorge that was impassable with huge boulders strewn inconveniently all over the place. The man and his sons then rushed about in the dark finding another way across. Maiko commented on how bright the boys were, how they had understood the problem and immediately worked out another solution. I sat quietly repenting of my assumptions and thanked God for the track and that we were now ‘on our way.’

We wound our way upwards in the dark, weaving this way and then that. The track was so unclear that I wondered how they had made it in the first place. What a contrast between Roman and African ways – one militaristic and straightforward, the other social and circuitous.

I was trying to plot where we were in my mind as we were in total darkness now. When we came to a fork in the track the popular vote was to go right. However, after a while I stopped and turned off all the lights. It looked like we were heading around the back of the only visible landmark which was the looming mass of Lepurko mountain straight ahead of us. So we retraced our tracks and headed off to the left. It was an old track that was very overgrown with Acacia scrub and took us away from the mountain. This fact worried me as by my reckoning we should have been amongst tall acacias on flat ground and skirting around the mountain.

Maiko kept reassuring us that he was born in a boma just over the hill and knew the area well. So we drove on. We could see torch lights shining on the dark mountainside behind us and wondered if we were being ‘advised’ or were they cattle herders just going home late? There definitely should have been a hunter’s camp on a ridge to our left at some point. When we stopped again and switched off the lights we couldn’t hear any sound and the only torches were from a boma a long way off. We were miles from anywhere and totally lost.

‘Barabara’ is an odd sounding word. It is Swahili for road and when the ‘barabara’ suddenly dived into another gorge and didn’t come out I was convinced that we should turn back and take the right fork. We retraced our tracks again and all I could hear was people muttering about the ‘barabara;’ with a barabara here and a barabara there, old Makofia lost his way, aiyee, aiyee, oh I think I’m going mad! I shook my head to concentrate on the faint tracks in the light ahead of me.

This time the track took us winding round and up and down until it finally came onto a bit that I thought I recognised. Hopes were up until it then went up hill sharply and divided into two, which totally exasperated me. We took the left hand one and followed it round a large tree and there in the headlights was a neat little footpath. We had driven straight into the hunter’s camp and had arrived in ‘reception!’ There was a stunned silence as everyone recalibrated their mental map of where we were.

Several men came out of the darkness with powerful torches bearing spears and interviewed us. Yes they had been shining a torch at us earlier on knowing we were heading up a blind ‘barabara’. Happily they recognised me and gave us instructions for the right road and we were on our way again. We were all tired and I was frustrated so when we took another wrong turn there was a tense debate. It was implied that I hadn’t understood the man’s Swahili instructions. ‘But,’ I said, ‘two lefts don’t make a right. We went wrong on the first track and took a left and then we should have taken a right turn to get back onto the original track. Now we have taken another left so we are doubly wrong.’ There was a moment’s silence and then they were amazed at how stupid the young man had been in telling us to go left. I smiled at the deft avoidance of loss of face. This time we were on the right barabara and I recognised it.

There was phone signal and the distant glow of civilisation over the horizon. I told Lisa that we would be a little late as we had got lost but now we were on our way. She said she might be up when I got back. Well thank you, I thought to myself, you have no idea where we have been…but then I don’t think anyone else had either, except maybe a few bemused locals who had been watching our headlights erratically traversing the bush for the past few hours.

Back to the Beginning

2011-05-14T04:08:00.000-07:00

Graham recently had a fantastic opportunity to take farmers into the forest and show them how God farms. Teaching conservation agriculture has been a bit of an uphill struggle because it is labour intensive. Had we come in with brand new shiny tractors, implying status and development, we may have had a large following in no time at all. But no tillage and covering everything with a mulch just doesn’t seem attractive to a lot of people; maybe because it looks untidy.

The day started with just two people, who are learning how to teach it and are very inspired, and one other who came along out of curiosity.

Graham continues the story...

As we drove down through the fields we picked up a couple of other farmers who left their work, intrigued by our trip. Were we really heading to the forest for some teaching on how to grow maize?

The track led through banana plantations and small fields of vegetables and maize and then we passed a bare, newly ploughed field and came to the edge of the forest. The huge trees seemed so tall all of a sudden and the shade swallowed us into its cool and peaceful interior where we stopped in a small open area.

I gathered everyone around and started by pointing out how productive and lush this forest was when the land beyond was so dry. Long lean trunks soared up into the upper canopy 60-70 feet above us supported by the upper branches which were festooned with creepers swinging down to the shrubby undergrowth and ending up rooted amongst the scattered seedlings and annuals on the forest floor at our feet.

I invited them to notice how untidy the area was. There were fallen trees, rotting logs and a carpet of twigs and debris from above. We walked under the canopy of a leafy shrub and squatted down and scraped away the dry surface mulch. The debris was dark and shapeless as it began to be broken down. The soil was friable and beautifully light. It was dark and slightly moist with the scent of humus. When we dug down a little further we uncovered slender white root filaments of things growing in amongst the rotting leaf litter and small bugs. I suggested they push their fingers in and see how far they could penetrate the soil and then asked them if they would like to have soil like this in their fields.

In the past people would cut down the trees, clear the undergrowth and grow three good years of maize before they had used up all the fertility. Then they would leave the land and move on. In the next ten years or so it would all slowly grow back, without their help, and gradually regain its former fine structure and fertility. But now, the soil is worked and worked and turned over until every last bit of natural goodness is used up.

Another interesting thing was that there were no erosion channels here and the water in the streams that flowed through this forest was relatively clear. In contrast the channels between their fields were filled with muddy brown water showing that erosion was taking place.

We moved out from under the covering of the forest into the glare of the midday sun and walked across the ploughed field. The bare earth was light in colour and scorching hot with a caked surface from where the last rain had fallen onto it. The clods that the plough had turned up were as hard as bricks and there was a flush of weeds pushing up through the cracks in the surface. There was little moisture in the surface layer and no evidence of any insect life. The field sloped gently down to the edge of the forest where a large area of silt had been transported. When we walked across towards the centre we came across a newly formed erosion channel, a few feet in depth revealing a scattering of stones and rocks.

The contrast was stark and needed little reinforcing. It was obvious to all that God was the better farmer and when we went into the classroom, understanding was already dawning.

This man has recently learnt the conservation method by following Graham for several weeks and was teaching here for the first time. He will take it to other areas where he is working and is already a strong and inspired advocate.

The 'Seven Stepper'

2011-04-03T02:23:00.000-07:00

On a recent trip, I had an interesting snake encounter. I was waiting for the guys I was with to get back into the pickup when I looked out of the passenger window. There on the grass only a few feet away was an enormous black mamba, looking very calm, coiled in a lazy circle with its head held up in the centre.

I recognised it at once by its supercilious smile as it carefully surveyed the scene. I shouted that there was a ‘really bad’ snake and everyone should get into the pickup. Just as I thought I should take a photo it started to slither into a hole in a dead tree trunk whilst its tail began to thrash around angrily.

I wondered what would happen next. Then we saw that there was a herd of cattle coming through the trees towards us. Someone shouted at the moran herders to warn them. Straight away they came towards us picking up small rocks and circling warily round the dead tree trunk. Then the one nearest the car saw the head appear out of the hole and start to go for him. He immediately chopped down onto the snake’s back with his long-bladed spear. The snake started to writhe around and I saw the spear was bent so he quickly changed to using his herding stick.

(What I particularly love about this photo is that he kept hold of his umbrella, spear and water bottle in the other hand throughout the process! That’s one cool warrior in my book!)

The other moran came from the other direction and joined the fray.

It was all over in a very short time and the snake was lifted into the air and displayed as truly dead. It was about 7 feet long and about 3-4 inches across at its thickest!

We left them to hoist the body into a tree for the birds and drove on with many excited comments about mambas. The immediate instinct here is to kill snakes whether they are venomous or not. We often find ourselves defending them and begging people to leave them be, especially if they are obviously completely harmless like a common house snake. However, this one was a killer and could have attacked the herd of cattle so I left them to do what they had to do. The snake had seemed oddly calm to start with and the others thought that it had eaten something recently. However, it was definitely angry and coming towards the moran when he struck it.

They call the black mamba ‘the seven step snake’ as the poison is so potent that you only have seven steps of life left. They are also very quick and aggressive snakes and can bite repeatedly, easily able to kill several full grown cattle in one attack.

Then the stories started......a man in South Africa had driven over one and it had caught onto the chassis of the car and held on to the running board until he reached his hotel. As he got out of the car it bit him and he died.....

And a friend, driving along in his pick up full of people, stopped to look at one on the side of the road. It went for them, the passengers leapt up onto the roof bars, our friend slammed the cab window shut, the black mamba slithered up under the bonnet and they had no choice but to continue their journey. Upon arrival, they gathered round the car armed with sticks, lifted the bonnet carefully with a VERY long stick and there it was curled up on the engine!

The Hatted One

2011-03-03T02:40:00.000-08:00

I have been trying to do a deal with my neighbour, a small Mwarusha man. He has a long thin piece of land that extends into my plot and is bound by it on three sides and I am suggesting a ‘like for like’ swap to make two blocks of land, both of which would be more easily managed and more saleable. As always we spoke in Kiswahili.

I met him this morning down by my fence. After harvest our neighbours, and especially this particular one, just let their animals roam anywhere eating the leftovers. The problem is that I am trying to preserve the stover for a mulch cover to increase soil water retention and fertility. His goats, sheep and cows are hungry and have other ideas when they see all this fodder lying around after harvest.

I asked if he had spoken with the rest of the boma. He said that he had taken my message to them and that the young men had refused my idea but had another idea. They want me to buy a small piece of their plot, about 20 paces long, for 5 million shillings - almost ten times the going rate! I reminded him that I had said categorically there would be no exchange of money. I don’t have any and the deal is already mutually beneficial. He continued to reiterate their point of view and in desperation I said,

“Do you understand why I suggested this deal?”

He looked at me surprised and a little bemused. I took him by the sleeve and said,

“Ok you are now Makofia (my local name which means the ‘hatted one’)and I am Nagole”. I drew him to where I was standing and I went and stood where he had been standing.

“Ok I said why do you want to do this deal?”

“I don’t,” he said. “You came to me first.”

“No,” I said. “You are me and I am you. So you have to tell me why I wanted to exchange this piece of land.” He looked bemused again but I persisted thinking that the penny would drop very shortly if I could convincingly play out my/his part.

“So Makofia, why do you want to exchange this land that you bought off me? Do you think that it is no good?” I said.

He laughed and said,

“I don’t know you bought it off me and it was alright then.”

“No, no”, I said. “I am Nagole.” At which point he roared with laughter.

In desperation I noticed he was wearing a most ridiculous woolly hat so I stepped forward and took it off his head and replaced it with my Aukubra and put his multi coloured woolly on my head. He looked startled and then stared at me quizzically for a moment. I let the full import of what I had done sink in and started again.

“Ok Makofia,” I said. “Why do you want to swap this piece of land that you bought off me last year?”

He paused and I could see that something was going on inside and he was imperceptibly readjusting his perspective. Then he answered slowly,

“Because your cows and sheep keep coming onto my land and eating my crops.”

“Yes,” I cried triumphantly, throwing my arms in the air. “That’s why I want to swap the land. Why can’t you get them to agree to it?”

“They are young and want money”, he said. “But I will go back and talk with them.”

“Ok then I will wait for you to come back to me, now give me back my hat.”

“Oh no, you gave it to me. I want to keep it.” He dodged my outstretched hand.

“What! No way,” I laughed. “Here you take your woolly hat,” and I lunged at him and grabbed my hat off his head as he moved to run off.

We laughed and bade each other farewell.

“What a cheek,” I thought to myself. “He was trying to play me all along!”

The Three Calf Bet

2011-01-31T01:02:00.002-08:00

After a recent trip to a new place and a new challenge Graham writes of his drive home:

As we packed up camp we began discussing the way back. Apparently there was an old road down the other side of the mountain that would save about 5 or 6 hours driving time – a very tempting idea.

A young moran came and asked us to take a very sick old man down to hospital. I asked him if we were going this ‘quicker’ way would he still want us to take the old man. He said he would which I took to mean that the road wasn’t bad enough to be a risk to his life. We found him lying in an old boma next to the road after an hour’s driving – he was not well at all and was in considerable pain all over. We took out our mattresses and made a bed for him with a couple of bolsters so that he was sitting in the back like a king.

Many of the young moran on the road warned us that we would never make it through the road ahead. Not even a motorbike could get through now they said as it was washed away. In the end, I bet a particularly fervent young moran a calf that we could get through. Two others said that they would also bet a calf, making the prize for success three calves. Always glad of a challenge I accepted although secretly I did wonder......

The road looked deceptively harmless but vegetation disguised deep gullies and sudden drops where the road had washed out. Our first problem was a washout in the middle of the track bound by hedges on either side blocking all other options. We dug and filled holes and tried it. The ground started to collapse as I drove across the gulley and I had to reverse quickly. I wondered again if this was stupid but also thought we may have reached the point of no return already. A couple working in the fields nearby helped us and warned us it was much worse ahead but as we got through I felt more encouraged.

The dirt track now turned into a very rough rocky road and sloped steeply downwards. We walked the track and worked out a route, filled holes and moved the larger rocks. I was now quite calm about us going on and looking forward to the three calves. We wobbled and lurched down the hill, filling holes in on the way with one man guiding me from in front and another organising passers by to help.

Round a couple of bends we came across a huge problem where the road had been washed right out with a twenty foot fall onto some large boulders below. The only viable option was to cut a deep ditch out of the hillside above that the top tyres would lock into and stop the car from slipping away. The work progressed slowly as the slope was pretty steep but a woman kindly cooked chai for us to keep us going.

No one else seemed to understand the physics of Landrovers and there was a fair amount of goading to try this and that but I had the upper hand as the vehicle was mine and I was behind the wheel! We carried on with much banter, exhortations and heavy sweating.

After several failed and rather alarming attempts, I tried again but needed people to push the back end up hill. Many refused as they thought that they would be squashed if it rolled. However, I managed to encourage enough to push with others sitting on the topside of the pickup. Now the rear tyre was in the ditch and things looked good, but when they told me to keep going beyond where they had dug, it all went pear-shaped again and I ended up at a precarious angle just above the washout, holding onto the passenger’s side doorpost to keep myself on a level!

(No photo of this bit as I was holding on for dear life!)

More digging and the afternoon wore on. It took a lot of leading by example to persuade those who were flagging to keep digging as we were all pretty exhausted. My fear was that the last few metres would be too steep and as I was turning down the slope to rejoin the road the Landrover would tip over. And in fact, as I rushed down towards the road the topside front wheel started to lift and was only just stopped by the other front wheel meeting the flat surface of the road and pushing the vehicle level again. The spring gave a loud bang as it bent back into shape which made it all the more dramatic.

Everyone was happy and after all that were saying how easy it had been! I think I was the only one who knew how dodgy it had really been.

We now had a pickup full of people wanting a lift to the next village which was useful when we met the next obstacle which was a very deep but narrow washout that someone had carefully camouflaged with sticks - and I drove straight into it! Luckily only the front driver’s side wheel had gone in but there wasn’t much to stop the car going on down the gulley. With plenty of help on board, the front of the vehicle was lifted out and we were soon well on our way again.

THEN the two morani who were accompanying the old man told us that the track had been cursed by the witch doctors so that strangers wouldn’t have access to their land – now they told me! I’m happy to say that despite it all, the old man arrived safely at a better hospital at the end of this road than he would have done at the end of the longer road.

The views across the plains were spectacular. Sometimes I look at views like these and get butterflies in my stomach. The grand scale of the wilderness with no sign of man. Below us the biscuit brown plains stretched away into the distance, broken up with big seas of yellow grass. To the left were a line of progressively smaller rounded hills, swooping down from the heights of a nearby mountain, each one haloed in a dust haze. It was a magical light show of both detail and grandeur with so many hues blended into one great tapestry that was a feast for the eyes and refreshed the soul.

Enthusiasm for School

2011-01-12T20:53:00.000-08:00

Monika lives in the ‘middle of nowhere’ in very harsh, dry and dusty conditions. Her husband, who works in a town 150 miles away, had three wives but two were unable to cope with such harsh living conditions and have left. Monika has ten children and not only accepts her lot, but LIVES her life, with an incredible grace.

It is law in Tanzania that every child should receive primary education although some slip through the net due to distances from schools. Not Monika’s children. They leave home at 4am in the dark and, joining other friends along the way, they walk until they arrive at school at 8am. Leaving school at 1pm they arrive home just before darkness falls again.

The road to school with wildebeest running across the background (if you look carefully!).

Visiting Nomadic Friends

2010-12-02T04:06:00.000-08:00

A trip to visit three different people – something that would seem to be relatively simple. But things rarely go according to plan here. All three men have moved with their families, chasing what little grass there is left until the short rains come.

On the way to find the first man, we get stuck in a bog. Everywhere is dry, dry, dry and the bogs are a complete surprise.

It takes three hours to dig, get out onto dry land, fall in another bog, dig, get out, fall in another one, scratch our heads, sweat, drink bottles and bottles of water, pray and call friends in Arusha to add their prayers to ours and finally to get clear of the hidden bogs.

As evening draws closer, and it’s obvious that we will have to pitch camp soon, we find where our man is now living. But - his boma is just OVER THERE!

Even our guide can do nothing but squat and look in despair across the gorge. He has never been there on four wheels before!

Only one thing for it, clear the rocks and make a way through. And thankfully by then our hosts have come to meet us and are as determined as we are to get us there.

We pitch camp just as the sun is setting over the Rift Valley Wall in the distance – a sight to refresh us in our weariness. The warm welcome we receive also dispels the frustrations of the journey.

Next day more head scratching after several attempts to climb back up the side of the gorge we had come down the previous evening. More heaving of rocks and the day begins with sweating again...... and an hour later, after more prayer, we make it out.

The second man, when we find his new boma, is not there of course because we have wasted precious time getting out of the gorge. He has already gone off with his cows. At midday we find him and he is delighted to see us. No means of communication with anyone in advance.

The third man has moved too and we have run out of time to find him. We have to build a stone bridge to get to his boma – that we find he has moved from -because water has gone through since we last used this road and made a gully that is just a little bit too deep.

By this time, we have a sick baby on board and the road out to the nearest doctor and cold soda is the only way!

The Sieve Effect

2010-11-18T09:36:00.000-08:00

We have been desperate for rain, but not without a measure of trepidation as our roof leaks like a sieve. Despite our very best efforts, it has been impossible to bring everything together in time to get the roof done before the rains. We were assured, beyond a SHADOW of doubt that whilst work was going on, even once the rain had started, the roof would be covered every night with lots of tarpaulins and not a DROP would get in.
So what to do? Go on with a leaking roof, or risk replacing it during the rains? We took the risk.

And it poured with rain.........outside........and then it poured with rain.........inside...........and then it poured with rain ..........IN BED! And that was the final straw. There are only so many bowls, buckets and saucepans a woman can keep in her house for a rainy day......or night!

Ears.....and ears.......

2010-11-05T07:37:00.000-07:00

In every community, there is the old and the new. Both have their merits in many different ways and both are often at odds with each other.

The Maasai are no different and these two photos seem to epitomize what was and what is to come....

Maasai ears are usually put to good use. This old pill pot is most likely to be carrying snuff.

And these ears.....well they say it all!

Graham's Maasai Father

2010-10-26T23:12:00.000-07:00

Ormonderei is Graham’s Maasai father.He has no idea how old he is but he is in the age set above Graham. The process of becoming a member of his clan began with Graham giving him a heifer. Since then he always greets Graham as ‘heifer’ whenever he sees him. Being a part of his clan has meant that all the Cow Project cows can have the Laiser markings on them as well as the ‘G’ stamped on their rump.

We were also given a plot just outside his boma to build our hut on in which the church now meets. As a son of the boma, Graham is expected to give his father presents. In this picture, he is being given a knife that Graham made for him to make up for all the times he has inadvertently arrived empty handed! He is showing him where his name is written on the blade.

Olpul

2010-08-15T04:43:00.000-07:00

Warriors are the standing army of their people and must concentrate on building up and maintaining their strength. One of the things they like to do is ‘party’ in their own unique way. This involves a group of men finding a secluded place away from the eyes of women to set up camp for a meat feast to last from several days to several weeks. Traditionally, they would only eat bullocks but nowadays, they might also bring the odd sheep or goat along and men older than the warrior age set like to take part. They may take a few younger boys and girls with them to do the work of collecting fire wood and cooking the soup. They will eat the meat either roasted or as a soup to which they add special tree bark and herbs which aid digestion and increase strength and courage. And there they stay, in seclusion, building strength and comradeship until every animal is eaten.

In this gorge, there were three different age sets in separate olpuls hidden along the dry river bed.

Fire!

2010-07-30T02:42:00.000-07:00

Last Saturday night, the flat in our compound caught fire. We were out so the watchmen ran to the nearest neighbour to set off the alarm. From there the women in each boma set off a chain of loud ‘uuueee’ sounds from boma to boma. About 100 neighbours came running in with their buckets and formed a human chain from the pond to put out the fire.

But for them, the whole flat would have burnt out. In fact, no personal items were destroyed, no-one was hurt and we were overwhelmed by the care of our neighbours.

On Tuesday we went to market and bought a bull, 50 kilos of rice, tomatoes and onions, crates and crates of sodas and today we had a feast to say thank you.

A Muslim was invited in to slaughter the animal in order that neighbours of every faith could eat it, and then the Maasai took over.

The men arrived early to keep an eye on the meat!

Several women came in to help with the cooking.

And when the rice and ‘soupu’ (stew) was finished and the thank yous had been said, the roasted meat was brought out for the elders.

It seemed that this was the bit they had all been waiting for!

Everyone left happy, neighbourly relationships were cemented and our dogs are still licking their lips!

Living Water

2010-07-24T01:51:00.001-07:00

As I sat listening to a friend speaking about the Living Water out in Maasailand, I looked down at my feet...

which had looked like this two hours earlier when I left home.

Then I looked at the people around me, everyone of them dusty and dirty...

and I wondered how people who live in constant dust would understand the concept of the Living Water, of cleanliness, and what’s more, inner cleanliness that lasts for ever!

The talk was inspired by the morning’s water run – a diverse experience as men, women, children and animals all partook of the same rather brown water.

One washed his clothes with the help of his shoe.... (if you’re wondering what is in his ear, it’s likely to be a film canister carrying his snuff. The large loops in people’s ear lobes are used to carry all sorts of very useful things.)

And then everyone dipped in.........

And finally all the containers had to go back in upright, together with all the women..........for the 6km return trip.

And in the end, after all that, not only did the water inspire the message, but the water containers were then used as the ‘pulpit'!

Celebrating the Cow Project

2010-07-14T01:27:00.000-07:00

Last Sunday we celebrated with some of the women who have received cows. We wish that all those of you who have given so generously could have been there too. We had friends with us though and Jenny received necklaces and thanks on your behalf.

Firstly we met under the tree with the church. For many of the women, it was the first time they had ‘sat in church’ and heard someone so clearly speaking from the Bible. It went from Norman in English, to Graham in Swahili to Nosikito in Maa and back again leaving plenty of time for thoughts to be gathered and words to sink in.

Then they all lined up to say thank you.

They sang.....

and danced......

and gave us gifts.

Meanwhile, two women from the local village were preparing a feast under a tree in very windy conditions so the singing and dancing went on...and on.....and on... while the flames under the cooking pots were encouraged to point in the right direction and do their job!

Sadly, we have lost 5 cows who had not re-gained enough strength after the drought to withstand sickness. The project rule is that the women have to present us with the skin that has the G stamped on it, then they go back on the list for a replacement – just once.

This is Simbavo showing us her skin. She was heart broken when it died and did everything she could to save it.

The Road to Work by Plane

2010-05-14T01:58:00.000-07:00

There will be no Maasai news for a while as we are travelling until early July. We are very much looking forward to catching up with many of you in person. Watch this space - we'll be back!

Baptisms at Baraka

2010-03-19T02:06:00.000-07:00

Last Sunday Graham and Nosikito baptised 6 women in a muddy watering hole near the church at Baraka. Most had never been under water before. The cows, who normally only share it with the goats and sheep, watched from the edge.

Nantosin, ok ready?

Hold your nose and down you go!

Phew!

Ndine - Hold your nose like this

And up she comes........

Hey it was fun!

Esupat - Mmmm, I’m not sure about this...

Oh well!

Not bad after all!

Pendo - Are you sure this is safe?

And it was but.....

now please let me out of here!

An elderly ‘Koko’ called Naramasangwa decided she wanted to be baptised before she dies. Nosikito and Graham guided her carefully in.

Please look after my precious stick.

And in she goes

Thank you so much!

And finally Niye was baptised by Nosikito who has supported her through some very difficult times.

Perks of the Job

2010-03-15T04:56:00.000-07:00

Sometimes the heat and dust and discomfort can seem never ending and then........

This little lad was wondering who was invading his spot.

The invasion soon paid off!

And we loved his spot.

Another Demonstration Plot Prepared

2010-03-07T00:04:00.000-08:00

Graham has been busy preparing more demonstration plots for the Foundations for Farming project. This one is 50 x 14m and took 8 people two days to prepare.

The sight of the 'man high' weeds to be cleared, nearly had everyone running off on the first day. It certainly produced demands for more money. Graham’s way of teaching is to work with a group of people on a plot teaching and chatting as they go. He pays a day’s wages to each one and their bonus is to learn the ‘secret’. On this plot he promised to double the wages if he dropped first – he being twice the age of most of them. Needless to say, no-one got double wages but Graham has no doubt taken twice as long as the others to recover!

Beginning of Day Two and it is finally cleared and ready for setting out. The first delivery of well rotted manure which was dug from a nearby boma is being unloaded. The maize either side of this plot has been planted the traditional way and will provide a good contrast, we hope, as this is the view from the main pathway into town.

Work is well under way with everyone doing their allocated job – either marking out and digging holes accurately or filling each hole with manure and seed bed fertiliser.

At last as night falls, all the holes have been planted and half have been covered with a blanket of the dead weeds. The weeds were a bonus after all as they provided an instant mulch. A crate of sodas was needed at this stage to encourage completion but in the end, everyone was very proud of their work and enthusiastic about the new method.

18 More Women Have Cows!

2010-03-06T23:30:00.000-08:00

Last week we gave out 18 cows. Some of them may still look very ‘scrawny’ to a European eye but all are in much better condition than when they left market in October. Although it is raining on and off in different areas there was not enough grass to sustain them all in one place. There were also reports of cattle rustling by some Kenyan Maasai who had sold their cows here at rock bottom prices during the drought. Most of our cows are Kenyan stock as they are an improved breed and give more milk.

Kivuya

So who are these women who have received a cow?

Several are widows with young children to care for. One has 7 married children but none are able to help her. Another is the second wife of a man who prefers his first wife...............

Ellena

Two or three have alcoholic husbands who are rarely at home and therefore unable to provide for their wives and children.

One has 3 married children but two are girls and husbands are often are unwilling to help their mothers in law as they consider the dowry to be enough help. Her son has married an ‘Mswahili’ (anyone who is not a Maasai) and has moved out of his culture.

Endoyekuna

One woman lost her husband when he went to market to sell a cow. Sadly he celebrated on the proceeds and was then run over by a car on the road home.

Another lost her husband to armed robbers who broke into the shop he was looking after for a friend. When her daughters were married, and she received the required number of cows as their dowry, a relative of her husband’s ‘ate’ them. She still has one younger unmarried daughter and is hoping the cow will give her a measure of independence from this relative and that she will be able to move out from under his ‘protection’.

Nanaito

This cow may not look like much of a gift and has not recovered as well as the others. It’s a start at least to help this couple get back on their feet as they have lost all their cows during the drought. They have two children and thankfully none of the problems common to the other women. We have no doubts that all these cows will be pampered and cared for extremely well.

Nanyoki

One woman has lost her husband and two sons to AIDS and is infected herself but keeps relatively healthy on ARVs. Another has lost 3 of her children and the 4th is unable to either work or look after himself, let alone her.

Yet another widow has two sons but sadly one is in prison and the other is an alcoholic. She is able to earn about £2 for delivering babies.

Grecie
The Maasai love any excuse to eat, drink, dance and sing and all these women are already looking forward to the moment when they can say thank you in this way- so are we!

Eco Lawn Mowers

2010-02-26T04:48:00.000-08:00

Graham often arrives home with a ‘thank you’ from Maasaini. The goats are sent straight on elsewhere as they have absolutely no appreciation of a carefully laid out garden and can wreak havoc in no time at all. This flock of ‘lawn mowers’, on the other hand, can be left to graze happily and are a very pleasant addition to our environment.

Demonstration Plot

2010-02-18T06:19:00.000-08:00

A demonstration plot was given by Lesingo beside his boma. He announced that he was very happy that he was going to learn the ‘secret’ of the soil as he already knew the ‘secret’ of keeping cows.

The first job was to bag up lots of manure for the planting holes from inside the goat pen.

The next job was to dig the holes but although the ground was sandy it was as hard as rock about 6 inches down and the pickaxe handle was broken in the first half hour. The workforce was less willing at this stage!

But in the end, everyone was very happy with their efforts. Each hole was filled with goat manure and a sprinkling of seedbed fertiliser. It turned out that Lesingo’s only contribution to the process was to go round waking everyone up at dawn each morning! He then sat down for the rest of the day to watch the work and chat to the other elders. As soon as the rains begin in earnest, we will go back and sow the seed.

Dust storms, Rain and 'Dry' Riverbeds!

2010-02-18T06:01:00.000-08:00

Last week’s trip was primarily about preparing the first demo plot for Foundation Farming. As always though, the trip was about several things at once.

Alima is a young girl who sustained terrible burns to one eye and ear and was brought into town for plastic surgery last year. Last week we returned her home after 4 months in rehab.

Graham writes: Alima was in the front with me and we got on well, despite her not having very coherent thoughts in Maasai and me trying to speak coherently in Swahili. She had a very engaging way of looking at me from the corner of her one eye, giggling and trying to explain some complicated thought in Maasai with lots of gesticulations. Then she would stop and check and if I looked totally perplexed she would throw her head into her lap, grasp the back of her head and roar with laughter at my incredible stupidity.

Taking Alima home proved a more interesting exercise than anticipated as Graham became engulfed in a twilight shroud of dust masking all known landmarks and trees and causing him to drive round and round and round............until the very man he was looking for came flying out of the dust – ‘in the middle of nowhere’! He had been watching their progress and running around after them trying to get their attention!

This Koko (seen here in happier times) was knocked over by a dust devil outside her hut two weeks ago resulting in terrible pain in her hip. She had not walked since and had been waiting for ‘Olais’ (Graham) to come and rescue her.

Her idea was that she would go home with him until she was better. There was much discussion in the boma - and with a doctor over the phone - and in the end it was decided that she would improve with the help of painkillers which her grandson was to fetch for her. However, Koko had set her heart on going back with the ‘Mzungu’ so she threatened to curse them all, saying that her boma had cows, sheep and goats and there was no reason why they couldn’t afford to take her to hospital. It is very hard to discern the truth in situations like this. ‘Olais’ was adopted by this koko when he came across her lying under a tree in the ‘middle of nowhere’ unable to walk home from hospital. Everyone in her boma was very alarmed by her threats but in the end a good night’s sleep, with the benefit of strong painkillers, convinced her of the merits of the plan.

Other highlights of the trip were:

• Getting thoroughly stuck in a ‘dry’ river bed after a rain storm - thankfully near a boma where the women folk cooked tea while the men did the digging

• Distributing 520 donated mosquito nets on behalf of the leadership of two villages who had no vehicle to do so.

• Taking a young boy with a four year old growth on his foot to see a doctor along with a man with scabies who had been treating it with battery acid! He was not a pretty sight and too unpleasant even to describe.

• Giving out food and identifying four more women needing cows.

The question on people’s lips seemed to be ‘Who brings this Mzungu? Why does he keep appearing out of the dust or the rain storm to help us?’ An opening we are very glad of..................

Agriculture

2010-01-25T03:53:00.000-08:00

Africa is known as the world’s begging bowl - around 20 million tons of grain is imported annually. It is said that 85% of the continent’s population are subsistence farmers. Average maize yields amongst the poor are around 300kg/hectare and the food requirement for one person is 450kg per annum. Crop failure is common, largely due to drought, but also due to poor standards of practice. Crop failure and hunger impact health, family values and people’s well being. Communities and cultures change irrevocably as young people move away from the areas of hunger and failure, towards urban centres.

Our neighbour’s plot

All these problems are common to the areas where we work too and have inspired us to look into Foundation Farming (also known as Farming God’s Way) which comes within the overall umbrella of Conservation Agriculture. It is a method of farming that has been promoted over many years and aims to break the poverty cycle. It teaches stewardship and crop management made effective through following Biblical principles. It’s about life in Christ and farming as a practical expression of this. The four keys to success in this farming method are:-

 On time
 To high standards
 Minimal wastage
 With joy

It is ideally suited to the many subsistence farmers who live around us here in Northern Tanzania on their small plots of land. It is also suitable as a way of introducing pastoralists such as the Maasai to small scale agriculture as many of them are now using maize meal as part of their daily diet. We see this as an addition to their current way of life, not as a change.

Last year we established a demonstration plot on our property where we produced a very encouraging acre equivalent harvest of 16 bags compared to our neighbours’ 2 - 4 bag harvests.

In October, at the height of the drought, we started again and prepared the ground much to the amusement of our neighbours, and the embarrassment of our workers who were asked to do the work!

We planted after the first rain in November and our neighbours began to watch with interest as the maize took off. Still no-one else planted.

No-one is laughing anymore. We are expecting a good harvest and are hoping that our neighbours are watching with enough interest to come along to our next demonstration. We are also very much hoping to be able to measure our harvest before it ‘walks’ as few of our neighbours have planted and none with such success.

On the Home Run

2010-01-22T22:44:00.000-08:00

Early this morning, 28 very happy cows trotted off up our road beginning their journey home to Maasailand. They seemed to know exactly where they were going and took off at high speed with Penet and Balozi, their two herdsman, racing to catch up.

These cows were purchased 5 months ago at the height of the drought when the markets were full of cows being sold off while they still had some value left. We have kept them at home, feeding them and restoring them slowly to health.

Now they are on their way out to Maasailand where they will stay together until they are in calf and ready to be given out to women in the project. The distance by road is 100km, however they will go across country, munching and resting as they go, and will arrive in about 4 days time.

Times are changing - Penet and Balozi arrived to collect them with a phone each but no sign of a spear on either of them. We’re counting on the fact that most wild animals are well fed at the moment and won’t be looking out for a cow with a big ‘G’ stamped on its rump!

This is Balozi, Penet was running too fast to be able to get a clear photo of him!

Drought

2009-12-02T10:10:00.000-08:00

It is hard to describe the effect the drought has on every aspect of life here. It affects one’s sense of wellbeing so completely that it’s almost as if people dry up as well as the environment. It’s like aesthetic starvation in a colourless desert.

Then it rains, the grass grows, new shoots appear, there is colour again and everyone has a new spring in their step. Our village is already green and lush but sadly it isn’t so everywhere yet.

We heard that it had rained in Maasaini and that the goats were better and the cows starting to eat again. Sadly when we went out there with food, we found it as dry and barren as ever. We were struck suddenly by how welcome the splash of reds and blues on the Maasai is in an otherwise brown land.

When we were camping there earlier in the year, we drank our early morning tea watching herds of cattle and donkeys walk past with gazelle and zebra in the background, all munching as they went. It was one of those moments that imprints itself on your heart because it’s almost too perfect to digest.

This is Melau with his first wife Tito. Then comes Nini, Naramatesho, Namayani, Natemuta, Satuma and Nosikito – yes seven wives, who have 37 children between them. And what is even more amazing is that they all say he is a good husband – an incredible feat for one man! Added to the 45 of his immediate family, are his blind mother, his daughters in law, his grandchildren, his brothers and aunt................ and those are just the ones we managed to identify.

Sadly, they have lost all 350 of their cows during this drought but when we turned up with food for the boma, there was nothing but smiles and genuine gratitude. They even killed one of their precious remaining goats in our honour to say thank you. It would have been great to have shared the privilege and the goat with all you givers!

We are not talking about starvation here, we’re talking about daily hunger, the sort that makes a man pick up every last grain of maize that falls to the ground as we pour it out.

Cows are like a savings account. Goats and sheep are the current account that you dip into as you have need. Some keep chickens as ‘loose change’ to buy and sell although they don’t actually eat them.

In one boma we found people so fast asleep that we had to shake them awake, having walked in through the open door of their huts. It was a Saturday afternoon, they had eaten on Friday and were passing the time until Tuesday when they could take a goat to the local market and buy food.

In another we were given a mug full of cold maize gruel as an expression of their appreciation – there is never any hesitation in extending their hospitality and sharing what little they have.

Again, thank you so much all of you who have given towards this food distribution. We wish we could 'beam you in' for an hour or two to be with us there!

A Sunday in Maasailand

2009-11-09T09:52:00.000-08:00

The Maasai are considered a very romantic people by those of us whose lives seem drab in comparison. They are sometimes depicted advertising some earthy or exotic product that will stand the test of time in extreme conditions. There are many European women who have found romance with a Maasai ‘warrior’, chasing the exotic dream of power, rugged strength and pride, taking their place in the boma alongside their hero. It rarely lasts for long though. In truth, they are strong and proud but like every other people group, they have to ensure their survival in the unpredictable environment in which they live. And right now, there is little many of them can be sure of.

There is nothing romantic about living in the area we visited yesterday. The landscape is littered with dead or dying cows as people watch their beloved wealth fade away before their eyes. In the last 12 years I have never seen it looking as bad as it was yesterday. Where there was once grass, albeit dry grass in the dry season, there is now nothing but bare earth. Forgive us for such pictures, but it affected us deeply.

This is the scene outside the church at Baraka.

Thanks to the generosity of people back home, we were able to do another ‘food run’ yesterday. Everywhere we went, we were met with grateful thanks while we explained that we are only the channel through which the help has come. Whilst the Government is giving out maize to the very needy, the distribution process doesn’t always run smoothly enough for it to reach them.

Each family was given maize and beans and we have found soya beans that can be ground and made into soya milk porridge. This will be great for the children who have not had milk now for several months. We will have to teach people what to do with them as they had never heard of such a thing or seen the sample we took out to show them.

As we drove back to Arusha, it poured with rain in random patches. Even once the rains start properly, it will take 2 or 3 weeks for the grass to grow and then much longer for the surviving cows to return to health. Thankfully, we have not heard of people dying, but it will take a very long time for the Maasai economy to recover.

We've been to market!

2009-10-27T07:05:00.000-07:00

There is much in the news at the moment about the drought in East Africa and many people are indeed very hungry. For the Maasai, the drought has caused massive losses of their most valued asset – their cows. We hear stories of huge numbers of cows dying, of herds being reduced from hundreds to tens and of some bomas losing their entire herd. Outside most bomas there is a place where they are burning their dead.

One woman this week arrived on our door step having walked over 30 miles looking for food. Her husband has left her with their 6 children and all three of her cows have died.

It is raining in Arusha but the rains have not reached all the outlying areas yet and cows are still being sold for a song. Once the rains hit Maasaini – which we are hoping they will very soon - the prices will rocket with so few cows left in the economy. With this in mind, we have been to market – several times – and this herd of scrawny specimens is the result. They will take a long time to bring back to good condition and we are feeding them up slowly and carefully. Some will be ready to give sooner than others.

Today’s total is 23 enabled by supporters of this project.

The black stone remedy

2009-10-27T06:33:00.000-07:00

This woman had been stung by a scorpion on her foot and was in considerable pain. She is sitting here with a black stone on the wound which Lekoko had opened with a knife. The stone sticks to the wound and as she sat there for an hour or so, she said the pain was slowly drawn back down her leg until it left her foot all together and the stone dropped off. Black stones are an age old remedy for snake bites, stings etc all over the world and are made from animal bones. No scientific study is known which proves them to be effective and their value is debatable. However, this woman was happy with the result and that’s all that matters! Scorpion stings, although not fatal in a normal healthy adult here, are extremely painful and we have found that the stone helps every time.

Graham and Norman's August safari

2009-10-07T00:22:00.000-07:00

Graham writes: We started the safari buying some Kenyan cows for the project – better stock and one a young bull calf for breeding purposes. The man was quite reticent but when we started bargaining he came alive, like most Maasai do, to extol the virtues of his cows and why they should be such a high price!
We put our usual marks on the animals that we had bought - the Laiser clan markings across the face and the Big ‘G’ on the rump.

We drove up the Rift Valley and cut across country into the dust.

As we drove near one boma, a young man and a load of children ran out begging for water. Their womenfolk had gone off in the morning and not yet returned. It was after 4 pm and they had had no water. Most of them had been sleeping to pass time and conserve energy. Lekoko opened up the maize sack and gave them some - about 40 kilos - and then gave them water which was gulped straight down.
Everyone was happy and waved us off thanking us and God profusely. It must have been so unreal for them that a couple of white men would come over the hill with food and water out of nowhere. We were to experience this again in several other places.

As the light was fading on that first night, we set off towards Saigare’s boma with him showing us the way. He began to take us through trees and dry river beds while he and Lekoko ran ahead in the headlights to make sure that the Land Rover could get through. A man who is used to walking everywhere and doesn’t know how to drive isn’t the best person to choose the path ahead in my experience! It was incredibly dry and dusty with a terrible following wind that obliterated everything from time to time.
In the end even Saigare lost his way home and asked us to stop and turn the headlights off. Way behind us we could see a dim torch light which was the boma signalling to us that we had passed so we did an about turn and found them. It is a ronjo boma - a dry season temporary boma - made up of a thorn fence and huts of leafy twigs through which the wind and dust blew mercilessly.

Luckily we were given a sheltered spot behind one of these with a couple of cowhides on which to put our mattresses.
Despite the late hour Saigare wanted to kill a goat for us. We had fallen asleep when someone came round with the liver so we chewed briefly through it with our host. We slept again and were woken up a second time for the meat! Sleep was again interrupted when some moran (warriors) came to the camp late and woke up the woman in the ‘hut’ right next to our heads asking for chai. They talked and joked whilst it was being prepared and drunk. There is no whispering in Maasai except to tell secrets it seems. Apart from that we only heard the laboured breathing of a baby with a bad cold!

The dawn was a wonderful display of light and warmth, although I tried hard to keep my eyes closed and catch up on my sleep. When I did open them I found an audience of four women standing watching me!

I soon forgave them when I had a cup of hot chai in my hand, which I make a habit of sharing with the children so we had an attendant flock of eager-eyed young ones. One of them was told to greet us and then between deep shy gasps gave us all the news of the boma, just as a grown man would do, whilst his father watched proudly in the background!

Next stop was the wells where they water their cows. The wind was still blowing relentlessly whipping up clouds of dust as the various flocks headed off in search of patches of grass to eat. The cows are being hit hardest as they need grass whereas the goats can graze on young leaves off the trees. We came across dead cows along the cow trails in many places.

It is reputed that the British dug the first wells to help the Maasai who have continued digging them since then. Each one is variously owned by a group of men with bomas and flocks in the vicinity. There is a small group of young men from other tribes who live and work here doing all the digging on contract. Saigare’s well had run out of water the night before so he had asked to water his cows at a neighbour’s well. He waters the cows in the evening and the goats and sheep in the morning. The water is thrown up in a half galloni - about 10 litres - in three hands up to the trough where the animals come down a path to drink.

Saigare showed us the skull of a hyena he had killed. It had large heavy incisors a couple of flat topped teeth and the back teeth which should have been molars were incredibly sharp and long single teeth. He took us to where he had tied up a piece of cow hide through which he had threaded two sharp sticks with meat on. Directly below it he had dug a stake into the ground and tied his sime (bushknife) to it pointing upwards. The hyena had come along and jumped up for the meat and come down right on top of the sime. Suddenly Saigare was grunting fiercely and running backwards and forwards waving his stick and sime agressively. He was apparently showing us how he saw off a lion that had come after his goats - very impressive show of psychological testosterone! I’ve often wondered what I would do if I met a lion. Statistically it has to happen at some stage if I keep going out into the bush.

We set off again through blinding sand finding a new way through the scrub. We had just cleared the thick scrub when the exhaust came apart and the engine started to roar so we made for a tree and cooked up some tea. I managed to make something up from a tree root and with Lekoko’s help we tied it in place - it lasted until I fixed the thing properly a week later!

At our final stop we found it was market day and as we were desperate for some water and to have a good wash we also headed for the water trough. We stayed again in Norikito’s boma in a hut that was partially built and very comfortable.

Jenny and Lisa joined us here and arrived just in time to dance with the women whilst the men slaughtered the goat under a tree out of sight of the boma - morans (warriors) can’t eat meat that has been seen by a woman.
We were given a portion that we set out on some leaves and sat and ate with the men of the surrounding bomas. It was very tender and we all relaxed and enjoyed it.

Memuti

2009-08-29T04:14:00.000-07:00

Memuti is married to Nablo, has five children and lives at the foot of the Rift Valley Wall. He is a committed Christian and leader in the church whose wise counsel is greatly valued. He helps us with the Cow Project, looking after cows and advising us and has given us a small plot to demonstrate Foundations For Farming in his area.

Nosikito

2009-08-29T03:52:00.000-07:00

Nosikito is a Maasai Christian woman who has a great heart for her people. She has a pastoral ministry in her community including two small churches and always has an open home. She is a widow with two adult sons and a daughter still in Secondary school. Although Nosikito didn't go to school herself, she has a sharp mind and has learnt to read as much as she needs to. She is very involved in all we do and is a key 'doorway' into the community.

Lekoko, Graham's right hand man on safari

2009-08-29T03:36:00.000-07:00

Lekoko is a Maasai moran (warrior)of Il Korianga age set. He has worked for us as our night watchman for 7 years and now travels with Graham on all his Maasai trips, cooking, setting up the camp and interpreting both language and customs. He has also learnt the principles of Foundations for Farming and sets an excellent example on each demonstration plot to those Maasai who are more accustomed to putting the world to rights in the shade of a tree! He is here with his wife, Lande and their son Samwel

Land Rover - a man's best friend?

2009-08-17T23:09:00.000-07:00

How hard can it be to take a 200Tdi engine out of an old Land Rover 110 and put it into a Land Rover 127 to replace its thirsty and increasingly sick V8? Simple said one expert, no problem said another, it’s just a question of lifting one out and putting the other in said the third. Should take you 3 or 4 days max said a knowing friend. And everyone agreed that it’s done all the time and is a simple job........................

Today is day number 15 and night number 6. By night I mean one of those days that starts at 8am and finishes after midnight. Those are the days when Graham is so tired that he grinds right through a vital cable.

And has it been simple? Perhaps we are the only people in the world who own a specially adapted Land Rover into which nothing, absolutely NOTHING, fits normally. So everything has been re-adapted, lengthened, shortened, twisted, bent, moved, new bits made and old bits cut out.

And what do I contribute? I take out endless cups of tea, adore, encourage, hold spanners and crawl underneath with a torch every now and then to retrieve washers or nuts that have dropped through so the work can carry on uninterrupted above.

And in 3 days time it needs to be ready for a bush trip with visitors who are arriving from the UK....................... simple, no problem, 3 days max!

The Battle in my Mind

2009-06-21T09:36:00.000-07:00

We were given a Land Rover Discovery by some very kind friends nearly two years ago and I love it every time I use it. It is comfortable, I can listen to music and sing, I can lock the doors and windows when I go into town and feel safe, it’s automatic so my left leg no longer aches when I am in a traffic jam, which is EVERY time I go into town, and if I’m really honest, it’s a little bit of ‘home’.

Today the pick up was misbehaving and the old bush Land Rover can no longer be trusted for long journeys so we went to Maasai in the Discovery...............

We arrived in the boma and immediately a conversation started in my head between Lisa from the UK and Lisa in Tanzania and it went something like this:

L-uk : Oh no look at those kids all over the car, I’d better get someone to guard it while we’re here.

L-tz : Don’t be silly, if you fuss about your lovely shiny green car, it only widens the gap between you and them.

L-uk : But look at that one, he’s investigating how the light guards are fixed and I bet he’ll pull them off next...........

L-tz : Yes but you can’t expect to show them how to trust God when you ask one of them to guard your car against the rest of them.

L-uk: But it’s my lovely car.................

L-tz – Stop being stupid, relax and go and enjoy yourself...............................which I did and off we went to drink tea, chat, sing, pray and talk about John 3 – all with the car in view I have to admit.

Time to go home and what do we find? Names, and plenty of them, meticulously carved with a rusty old nail all along my lovely car. It seems that small people, not much higher than the bonnet, so well hidden from our view, wanted to show off their writing skills and we had provided a lovely green shiny board for them to do so. One side was clearly for Primary and the other for infants – and the prize in Primary goes to whoever carved ‘malaria’ so beautifully over the front wheel arch. On the infants’ side, the prize goes to whoever did that very imaginative extended swirly pattern above the sill.

The next conversation in my head cannot be recorded – psychologists call them hot thoughts for a reason and they are the ones that are best filtered before we open our mouths. Suffice to say that L-uk took the floor in that conversation!

I forgave the parents because they were equally outraged. They had seen my face and their consequent care and concern was pure kindness. It was when one woman, desperately searching for a remedy for me, suggested that I could fill the writing in with a green crayon or a small pot of paint that I let the hot thoughts go.

L-tz took over the conversation in my head and I wondered why I would expect people to behave according to my own principles – why should they? If I was in the UK, it might have been vandals smashing the windows, stealing the music machine or simply scratching the sides as they walked past. At least, I have a car that has been carefully crafted with the names of the people I was with today.

Branding cows at day break

2009-06-11T02:25:00.000-07:00

I woke early enough to hear every rooster in Kikongoni crowing just as the sky was beginning to light up over the hills in the distance. Arriving at Ormondere’s boma, I found several women out milking and a couple of men standing wrapped up in their rubegas against the cold. Balozi and Lekoko, my two helpers, stumbled out of their houses muttering about ‘sweet sleep’, found the branding irons and we set off for Orlakaswai’s boma where the cows are kept. It was a cold clear morning.

There was no wood to be found so a fire was kindled using dried dung around which several young boys gathered to warm themselves while the men of the boma all stood wrapped in their blankets at the boma entrance and discussed the various cows that were to be branded.

As the small herd of youngstock, including our heifers, came within striking distance of the boma our animals were singled out. Stealing cows is still common and where people rely so much on income from their livestock, it’s vital to 'insure' their belongings by branding them.

When the irons were hot in the fire a heifer was taken by the head and the tail and with a twist of the head thrown onto the ground and pinned down by the neck with a hand inside its mouth firmly grasping the lower jaw. The back legs were then tied together and another person leant against the body holding the tail which was pulled up between the back legs.

The first marks were made under the eyes around the face and over the bridge of the nose. This caused the animal some pain and to distract it the person holding the tail would slap the sides of its stomach hard several times and say something comforting in Kimaasai.

I was trained in agriculture and enjoy sharing knowledge and insights into cattle and I have come to respect these people whose whole lives are based on their stock. It is amazing that from a very early age you can find small boys with a whispy stick herding flocks of goats and sheep in the middle of the bush. They have respect and care for their cattle and no fear although, from time to time people do get killed by their own animals.

Each of the animals received the marking of the Laiser clan. I had bought the right to use the Laiser brand from Ormondere, Nosikito’s father, for the price of a heifer. Thereafter he greets me by calling me ‘endaho’ (heifer) in Kimaasai and I, in turn, greet him the same way, showing that we have exchanged a significant present between ourselves and cemented a relationship.

As a final way of identifying the animals, they were all branded on the flank with a big ‘G’ to denote my ownership. This is done to deter the head of the boma, where the women are living, from selling the cows over their heads.

If a cow was a little frisky then a lassoo was made and hung along a stick and used to catch one of the back legs. Maasai always catch a cow by one of it back legs and then another man will pile in as soon as possible to catch the head and twist it around to put it on the ground. With bigger animals this can take some time and requires several people to join in until it is finally floored. One young heifer was very flighty and took off like a gazelle the minute it felt the rope around its leg. It jumped the thorn hedge and raced through the boma amongst the huts with a trail of young boys and murrans chasing it. It was quite a hew and cry until it was finally caught in the corner of the cattle kraal and dragged out to the branding area.

After the work, we drank chai and I paid off the young warrior from whom I had bought one of the heifers in the neighbouring boma. He had been forced to sell it as his young wife, the last of his late father’s nine wives in fact, had been in labour for four days. I increased the price of the heifer in order to help him out and agreed to give them a lift to the local hospital. He told me that she had been moved to another hospital and had successfully been delivered of a boy and that they were all home again and doing well.
As we left, the sun was well up and the main herd was making its way back from its early morning grazing towards the boma to be milked.

A trip to Nondoto

2009-05-21T01:52:00.000-07:00

Our safaris usually involve loading the pickup with a couple of trunks with all the cooking stuff and food in them, dry sacs with bedding in, tents and a bag of clothes. Lekoko, one of our Maasai guards, comes with me on most safaris and takes his essentials with him - a blanket and his rungu (Maasai club)!

We set off, wallowing through the mud, in and out of puddles all down our lane to the tarmac road. It was a safari of faith as our lawn was under about 10 inches of water and it was cloudy and raining every day but the report was that it was dry and dusty in Maasaini. We had also heard that people were hungry and had 10 bags of maize flour on board. This is the rainy season and so it should be raining everywhere but this year is already different with intermittent rain and people have either planted three times or not at all. Maize is already up to 50,000/- a bag from its harvest price of 15-20,000/-.

As we climbed up over Monduli mountain where the tarmac runs out, it began to pour with rain. Lekoko and Nosikito were soaked in the back but the rain was so loud, no words could be exchanged and we just pressed on hoping that we would pass through it quickly and into the dry valley below. There were a few comments about maybe turning back rather than just going to get stuck out in the bush - a safari of faith with an unbelieving wife on board!

As we had hoped, the rain stopped as we came over the top of the mountain and began descending into ‘korna saba’ (seven corners in Kiswahili). Winding our way downhill -accompanied by the smell of burning brake linings – and onto the plains, we came upon a group of ostriches who took fright and ran down the road in front of us for some distance. It was a traffic jam that cheered us all up.

Our first stop was at a boma belonging to a man named Melau who lives with his 6 wives and 41 children, along with quite a few in- laws and grandchildren. Nosikito and Lisa chatted with the women about life and discovered that there had been enough rain to change the balance of existence, so that there was grass for the animals and the milk was beginning to flow again. They live mostly on a diet of milk and blood in various forms. They spoke highly of their husband who they said ‘Stays around here with us and doesn’t drink.’ They appeared to get on well because “If we argue and fall out with each other where will we go?” The children were fat and happy, although covered with the inevitable cloud of flies.

The next boma is where Norikito and her old mother live so we had a warm welcome. I was held onto by the old koko (granny) like a long lost son returning home. We went through the same procedure as in the previous boma greeting everyone according to their status in Maasai society. This is quite involved as there are many social distinctions and each has their own greeting that bestows identity and respect upon that person.

I had met Koko through her granddaughter who has a terrible skin condition who we helped to treat through a hospital in Arusha. On one of our visits back to the boma to check on the girl, as we were driving along ‘in the middle of nowhere’, we suddenly heard this shouting and whistling from behind. I looked around surprised, as there were no signs of human life around, no bomas and no herds anywhere in sight. We saw the koko’s son in law running along in his bare feet frantically waving us down. He took us to a nearby tree under which koko lay in an exhausted heap. They had been coming down from the hospital at Monduli Juu and she couldn’t go any further. It had taken them two days to get this far going from boma to boma – a journey of less than a couple of hours in the pickup.

We managed to get her into the front seat with me on one side to brace her and Lisa driving. As we drove off she looked up and thanked God in a very wobbly voice. As we bumped through potholes and bounced over rocks I put my arm around her to brace her as she slumped against me. I thought she might die right there in my arms so I prayed fairly earnestly for her. However, as soon as we got her home, her spirits revived enough for her to ask me for money as we were leaving! I was so surprised I laughed. Of course from then on I was her son with all the duties that go with that honour.

We sat round the fire under the light of a full moon and chatted about this community who appear to live happily because their way of life is unsullied by outside influence. They work hard to keep other people groups out and to define their boundaries, recognising the value of their own traditions. Nosikito remembered her childhood when they didn’t use maize but also just lived on milk and blood in various forms. She was thrilled to find people for whom it still works.

The suitcase

2009-05-21T01:22:00.000-07:00

On a recent trip out to Maasai land, we stayed at a boma belonging to a man named Saigare. As you can see in the picture, the area is very dry so he had separated off the thinner cows to send them off to better grazing where there had been rain. Three or four warriors went off with them and the lad in the picture above was the ‘suitcase’ who followed after them!

Chai dilemma

2009-05-21T01:09:00.000-07:00

With no prompting from any adults, these two little lads shared their chai, taking one sip each and then passing the cup to the other one. The dilemma now was – who was going to finish off the last little bit?

Blessed to be spat on

2009-05-15T00:15:00.000-07:00

After a long hot day in the bush last week, we arrived at a boma in the late afternoon. The previous day it had rained and the flies were out in force so we set up our camp some distance from the boma.......

As we cooked our supper of beans and rice the moon rose behind the hill under which the boma was built. The light slowly changed from the dying amber of the sun’s last rays to the ghostly white grey of a full moonlit night. A cow and a sheep had died that day and the fires, lit for roasting the meat, could be seen from miles around. Dark shadowy figures started coming across the valley as men from all the neighbouring bomas headed for the meat feast, beyond the hill behind us. I heard the howl of a hyena. It was quite close and I walked up to the brow of the hill to see if I could guess where it was. It called again moving down the valley below me towards the meat feast and then again right next to the boma. A young lad saw it run off but it was too dark for me to make it out. I heard another starting to howl way up in the hills and asked him if there were many hyenas in the area. “Many, many and they come to play outside the boma over there on the other side” he replied, pointing to the hillside opposite us.

The sky was clear with a light breeze. Thankfully the lack of rain meant there were no mosquitos and the flies had disappeared for the night. As we sat round the fire, Nosikito, our Maasai friend who we were traveling with, told us about a dream she had had the night before we invited her to join us for the safari. In her dream there was a very old person sitting on a skin and she, Lisa and I were gathered around the person. The person wasn’t dead but it was as if we were preparing them for death. She didn’t know where the person was or whether it was a man or a woman.

That afternoon we had visited an elderly Maasai ‘koko’ (grandmother) and when I had asked her if she was afraid to die, God had said to Nosikito ‘This is the person in the dream.’ I realised then why she had been so earnest in talking to the koko about death, about forgiving her errant son who she had held a grudge against for many years, about finding peace and being ready to meet God. Nosikito knew she was preparing her for death.

The Maasai fear death more than anything else and she seemed to have great liberty to talk about it with the koko in front of most of the members of her boma. I wondered if this was what the whole safari had really been about as our plan to help people with food etc had not proved necessary. I was just so thankful that Nosikito had come along as she has such an open heart for her people and we had both been deeply moved when praying for the old lady. She must have had this dream in mind when she had accepted our invitation to travel with us never having been to this area before and not knowing what lay ahead.

Apparently several of the women in the boma had been angry saying, “Why have you come to pray that our grandmother will die?” Nosikito had assured them that we hadn’t, that death was under God’s control not ours, and only He knew when she would die. This had pacified them somewhat but they were nervous of the subject being discussed so openly. The old koko didn’t mind at all though, and had sat listening intently although not seeing, as she is now quite blind. She had prayed for each of us in turn, taking a hand in both of hers and spitting on it between phrases as she blessed us. We had then rubbed our hands on our chests to show that we had taken it to heart.

We ate our beans and rice staring into the fire and thought about the day, the dream and being in the middle of the bush under a full moon with God being there so intimately involved in people’s lives.

I smiled as I remembered that when we got up to go the old koko had asked me if I could bring her some coffee next time. We had taken her tea and sugar but she found that coffee settled her stomach better!

No Costa Coffee but....

2009-05-11T10:35:00.000-07:00

... we do stop for tea breaks - and yes we did drink it!

And some roads are not clear at all!

2009-05-11T10:33:00.000-07:00

Some roads are clear and straight

2009-05-11T10:29:00.001-07:00

Traffic jams on the road to work

2009-05-11T10:24:00.000-07:00

Never a dull road

2009-05-11T09:51:00.000-07:00

Our road to work is always different. It can be tarmac with pedestrians, cows, goats, buses, lorries, cars, bicycles or donkeys to negotiate. It can be a dry earth road with thorn trees, bushes, ostrich, zebra, giraffe, gazelle to negotiate and dust....dust.....dust... which swirls up, in and around the car, and obscures the way ahead. It can be a dry river bed, with boulders, rocks and gulleys to negotiate. Or mud, glorious mud and then you hold on as you slip and slide in partial control wondering whether you’ll get there today – or tomorrow. And sometimes there’s no road at all...... and always with goats, cows and donkeys!

First calf

2009-05-06T00:26:00.000-07:00

This woman was the youngest of her elderly husband’s 6 wives. After he had gone blind, she stayed with him and cared for him until his death. She now lives with her 6 children together with other widows in a boma ( a family homestead) of women and children. This was her first calf which was returned to the project and her cow is now in calf again.

An early morning lesson in dung

2009-05-04T10:19:00.000-07:00

As I chatted to the women milking at dawn one day, I noticed a young woman begin to collect together the fresh dung left as the cows moved out of their night time kraal. I was intrigued to see her work on for more than an hour as the sun came up, collecting the dung in a bucket and dropping it into a large heap in the middle of the cattle enclosure, where she mixed it by hand at regular intervals. When she was satisfied with its consistency, she loaded it back into her bucket and hoisting it on her head, carried it, in several loads, over to the hut she shared with her mother, where she began to re-plaster the walls. What fascinated me was her composure as she carried out the work. From the outset, she was plagued by flies, on her hands, her head and face - she was pretty ‘plastered’ herself with the dung. It didn’t seem to bother her, she had a job to do, she asked for no help and made no complaint.
As a European, I thought of the hundreds of reasons why I would NOT enjoy such a job. In fact would I even think of doing it let alone enjoy it? I might get stuck in with a pair of Wellington boots, a long handled shovel and a wheel barrow and then use a VERY long handled trowel to do the plastering, but I can’t imagine just using my hands, hoisting the bucket onto my head and then plastering with hands that could now no longer be used to brush away the flies.
I was struck by how very pointless it is to worry about small irritations when you can do NOTHING about them. It seemed to me that this young woman had mastered the art of just getting on with a job that needed to be done, without bothering about the discomforts - and the reward? The very thing we all crave -absolute composure!

Is this Sanctification?

2009-05-04T04:53:00.000-07:00

Whilst studying some aspects of psychology used in counselling I was struck by this idea - a person is a Christian to the degree that he or she has come to terms with themselves. It sounds faintly odd and the idea needs fleshing out I know.
First of all I use the term Christian to mean someone in whom the characteristics of the person of Jesus Christ are being manifested - not as a replicated clone but rather as a distinctive family member.
Secondly by the expression ‘come to terms with one’s self’ I mean the process of accepting oneself for who we are in the reality of today, warts and all. This often has to be an objective acceptance from which the subjective journey can be made into the reasons why we are the way we are.
One of my favourite verses is the one that states that ‘the truth sets you free’. For most of us that might conjure up some idea of a court room drama where the truth is expressed, the prosecution’s case collapses and the accused walks away free. Many people have experienced an immense sense of personal freedom when the understanding that their sins have been forgiven bursts upon their minds. This is the freedom from the guilt of all past wrongdoings. It is also freedom from future accusation - the amazing idea that no one can ultimately raise an accusing finger against me in the final analysis of my life.
However I think that there is a more profound experience of freedom than the revelation that our sins have been forgiven. This is the lightness of soul that comes gently and steadily upon a person as they settle mentally and emotionally into the fact that they are personally accepted by God in the here and now, and that He is working everything towards their ultimate good. This eliminates any effort at self improvement - what is the point if one is already accepted? It also means that whatever has been stacked against us in life can be used by God - there is no such label as ‘disadvantaged.’ In fact the more ‘disadvantaged’ you are the more potential you have to be ‘advantaged’ - with God your absolute best will always surpass your absolute worst.
How can all this be? In the end it is because the truth, or Truth, is a person. It is not some abstract concept existing in human consciousness. This person, who is Truth, is Jesus Christ and His personality and character can only be expressed through another human personality and character - you and me. This isn’t about upholding the truth as if we were championing a cause. Nor is it knowing about the truth as in Bible knowledge or theology. There may be many Christians who do great things for the truth and others who are deeply in the knowledge of the truth who have very little expression of the Truth in their own characters and lives.
This Truth is in fact the life....... of Jesus Christ. We come into the Truth as we make room for Him by coming to terms with the present state of our being - something He has already done. Then, as we work with Him, in being healed from wounds, forgiving other’s trespasses upon our lives, and our own upon theirs we thereby give Him the raw material that He needs in order to change us into His likeness and make us whole.
Come to think of it, being in the image and likeness of God was what He actually intended right from the beginning!

Early morning chai

2009-05-03T11:03:00.001-07:00

This little lad is one of the children who benefits from the Cow Project. His mother gave birth to him during the period when she was still feeding his elder sibling. Custom dictates that a man does not have sex with his wife while she is still breast feeding. He was subsequently rejected by his mother's husband and now lives happily with his grandmother. When he took the cup away from his mouth, his little face was nearly all white!

Maasai Cow Project

2009-05-02T06:09:00.000-07:00

One of the projects we run is the Maasai Cow Project. As traditionally nomadic pastoralists, cows are hugely important for the Maasai and milk is drunk in various forms daily. They often refer to milk as their 'vegetables' and when times are hard, a meal of maize porridge and milk will be considered a good one. We have particularly targeted the women who have no cows and little means of providing for themselves. Being entrusted with a cow of their own gives them status and a degree of self respect. Amongst those who have benefited so far is a grandmother who has the sole care of her grandson, a young single mother of two, a young widow with 6 children and two women whose husbands have sadly 'drunk' away the family goats and cows with 11 children between them.
Each woman receives a cow on ‘long-term loan’ so that it cannot be sold over her head. The head of the boma (a family homestead) can decide which cows to sell and when without reference to the the owner if she is a woman. Each of our cows has a large G stamped on its rump to indicate Graham's ownership. This has so far proved effective in safe guarding the cow. The first calf born is returned to the project and all further calves belong to the woman.
We hope to keep you updated with stories of some of these women with their names changed to respect their privacy.

Sandalman and the Milkmaid

2009-04-26T07:04:00.000-07:00

One warm day, as the African sun dipped over the horizon and the shadows of the acacias trees rapidly stretched across the land, Sandalman turned to his Milkmaid and suggested that, with so many stories in their lives, perhaps they should begin to write some of them down.

'Mmmmm, that's a good idea,' said the Milkmaid. And so they began to write.