Carly Kiel (back to contents)

The village was surrounded by a fence of sticks and woven leaves that protected it from the rest of the savanna. It was hard not to envision Kurtz’s fence of skulls, though nothing here was reminiscent of Conrad’s malignant Africa. Hut walls were made of dried cow dung, roofs of grass, and the ground between of thousands of swirling layers of dust. The bitter wind was stinging our bodies and our eyes, so we pulled our arms inside our shirts and complained.

They did a traditional tribal dance for us and we watched their pet ostrich flap her wings in confusion. They showed us how they make their spears, and then led a tour through one of their largest huts. Mostly, though, they gawked at us—especially the children clinging to their mothers’ skirts or hiding inside their doorways.

I saw one child who couldn’t have been more than five years old. He was tiny, but he had already outgrown the green jelly sandals on his feet and the incongruous Phoenix Suns t-shirt on his back. He was shivering, but not complaining; he had no pants to wear.

As my group moved on to watch some tribesmen start a fire the old-fashioned way, I bent over to talk to this boy.

“Jambo,” I said, and he looked at the ground as he stepped behind his mother. I remembered what our bus driver, Maiko, had taught me and I asked, “Jina lako nani?”
The boy kept his eyes on the ground and shyly told me his name: “Saidi.” I knelt down, suddenly unaware of the dirt beneath me, and dug into my pocket for a Starburst Hard Candy that I had stolen out of my roommate Julia’s backpack that morning. I unwrapped it and extended my other palm for Saidi to mimic. I put the little crimson disk in his pint-sized fist and motioned for him to put it in his mouth. He looked up for approval through the red cloak draped around his mother, and a hand reached out to pat his curly scalp in consent.

Having few teeth with which to chew, Saidi drooled most of the Starburst right onto the ground in front of him, not to mention the front of his too-small Phoenix Suns t-shirt, grinning the whole time.

As my counselors Seth and Amie started calling my name to rejoin the group, I racked my brain for something else to give my new little friend, but only one thing came to mind.

I had been wearing the same clothes for three consecutive days to save space in our luggage. On the day of our visit to the Samburu village, however, we had all put on our second set of clean clothes to wear for the rest of the week. Unprepared for the harsh winds and chilly nights of Kenya, I had only brought two t-shirts and one long-sleeved shirt.

As I stood up, I pulled off the only garment in my immediate possession that didn’t reek of mildew and sweat, leaving myself in only a yellow sports bra. Once again, I had Saidi mimic me as I raised my arms over my head.

I slid my Mequon Power soccer t-shirt over his ingenuous arms. It brushed the top of his green jelly sandals, and the short sleeves hit well past his wrists. As Saidi looked up at me smiling, his mother took my hand and gave me a genuine “asante.”

The boy suddenly ran off into his hut as Seth and Amie continued to call me. I started to walk towards them when I felt a tug on the back of my shorts. When I turned around, Saidi held up a black bracelet and proclaimed, “Twiga.”

“Sifahamu,” I replied, indicating that I didn’t understand what he was saying.
His mother stepped forward and explained in broken English, “It is made of giraffe tail. Saidi made it.”

While my group loaded the buses to leave the village, I rummaged through my bag and, without thinking, pulled out the only thing I owned that covered my arms—a gray long-sleeved Dave Matthews Band t-shirt with elephants on the back and holes torn for my thumbs in the cuffs. I handed it to the chief’s son to give to whoever needed it most.
As we drove away with the roof propped open, we once again complained about the stinging icy wind. I watched as the dust from the village rose in a cloud behind us, forming a misty curtain through which I could no longer see Saidi, and I hugged my freezing body through the dirty t-shirt I was wearing. Then I felt the sharp ends of a twiga bracelet scratching my wrist, and I suddenly felt warm.

(back to contents)