engaruka: first person

[Transposed from the journal I kept while in Africa]

Their necks are disguised with large loops of white beads, like halos that have fallen from above their heads. They sing, call and response. They bob, bounce and laugh. The earrings hanging from their sagging lobes and cartilage swing and catch the light of the midday sun. Their necklaces bounce up and down, up and down.

Down. The halo has been dropped over my head, and I'm holding two hands. I'm in the middle and try to mimic their routine. I think first of my body movement, then I focus on trying to make my necklace flap like theirs. I lose myself in the movements. After a few songs, they guide me to the shade of a nearby tree. I sit on the middle of a cowhide. Two Maasai woman wiggle onto the hide with me, sandwiching me. Thigh to thigh, thigh to thigh. They drape a kanga over my legs and pour beads onto my lap.

One woman begins to put beads onto a string. More than a dozen men, women and children surround us, sitting, standing and kneeling. The woman then hands me the string. I clumsily put the beads onto the string, one by one. After a few tries, I string about 10 beads at once, as the women who sit with me do. A man takes note, raises his brow and the group celebrates with various whoops, words and chuckles. My small victory. I continue this new skill until the bracelet is finished.

The woman to my left puts the new piece of jewelry around my wrist and pulls it tight. Snap. The thread breaks. The woman to my right scolds her and takes over. She uses a razor blade, very close to my wrist. I look the other way. She remedies the break and fastens the bracelet to my wrist. I put it out in front of me and show it off. The ladies laugh.

We exchange questions through a man who speaks both Maasai and English. Are you Christian? Where do you buy your beads? Do you have donkeys in your country? How do you use them? Are you in a polygamous marriage? I buy three bracelets from the woman to my right. It's my way of saying thank you for the dance and lesson under the shade tree. Thud. A girl throws a heavy, beaded necklace onto my lap. With all eyes on me, I try it on. Several more ladies shed their jewelry and pass it to me. I say no thanks.

I thank the ladies and the man of the boma (home). I leave with a piece of their culture attached to my right arm and, of course, the rich memories.