Trip to Narok July 2002

I had to fold my shoulders and duck my head to get through the door. Unfortunately, like a cork in a bottle, I now had no light to navigate. I had spent the day with the Kejeri family and their church, returning to Namunchka late in the day and had been invited for ‘chai,’ hot, sweet milk and tea. . I followed the instructions of my amused host, turned right and then immediately left into a slightly higher room and found my seat by touch on the “mens” side of the room. The atmosphere was hot, smoky, claustrophobic and somehow cozy. A small fire burned in a grate on the floor without benefit of a chimney. The only light and ventilation came through an irregular 4” X 8” hole high in the cow-dung and mud plastered wall of Jackson and Elizabeth Wejeri’s home. I tried to forget about breathing. It had been a long day.
Last week, I was invited to go along with a maternal-child clinic trip to Suswa, a Great Rift Valley town that on a clear day is actually in sight of Kijabe, about 8-10 miles by road. Suswa is a collection of stick and clapboard buildings placed at random sites generally around a large corral.
The clinic used to meet in the most substantial edifice in the town, the tavern, which by all reports made a tidy profit on “rufi” (Maasi moonshine). This despite several instances of blindness among the patrons thereof. The clinic was now meeting in a small clapboard building, The Suswa Baptist Church. We cleared the unpainted wooden pews and lectern and set to work. Four hours later, 150 babies had been weighed and immunized.
Saturday, I was talking with Drs. Gary Rourke and Bruce Dahlman and their wives Corrine and Kate. I asked the source of the baptist presence in Suswa. The story they shared made me again marvel at the working of the Holy Spirit in people’s lives. In 1990 a widowed Maasi matron came to a roadside preaching crusade, went in to listen, was saved and left with a Maasi Bible. She went home, read her Bible and, following the Word, brought her grown children to the Lord. They in turn evangelized their neighbors and started a church. This one group has gone on to start new churches all over the valley since 1993.
As it turned out the Rourkes and Dahlmans were helping another Maasi church in Namuncha, “out there past the pumping station.” The pastor of the church, Simon Wajeri, was graduating the next day from the Narok Bible College. They were taking two cars to transport the church choir which was performing. I was asked if I’d like to come along. I did.
The Maasi have been resistant, as a rule, to evangelical efforts since these started in the latter part of the 19th century. The Maasi were primarily nomadic warriors and herdsmen, holding a dominant position not only in the Great Rift Valley but south across the border to Tanzania and up to the highlands of Kenya well north of Kijabe.
The British occupation of the highlands of Kenya would most likely have been a rather bloody affair had not the Maasi suffered twin disasters just before the British arrived: a huge reduction in their herds due to rinderpest and bloody internecine warfare which reduced their numbers further. Due to this they were pushed out of the highlands into the Rift Valley floor where it is hotter and drier. They speak their own language and are much less likely to know Swahili. Martin, a Christian Kykuyu artist with whom I talked, commented that the Kikuyu and Maasi now intermarry frequently, “But we still don’t understand the Maasi.” Why he thought that husbands and wives necessarily understood each other was not explained.
The Maasi therefore have been isolated by geography, politics, language and religion for over a hundred years. Many continue a traditional life of herding cattle and goats. Their dress is colorful and distinctive. The men frequently wear kilts and a red plaid shawl and carry long sticks for herding and defense. They have no horses and only an occasional donkey. The women wear elaborate beaded necklaces and earrings. Both men and women have pierced ears that can be as long as 6 inches. (Some men, I note, must find this annoying and wear their redundant ear lobes wound over the top giving them a resemblance to Shrek).
The Maasi are looked upon by many Kenyans as quaint, backward, recalcitrant and not overly bright. “Hillbilly” comes to mind. The Maasi, on the other hand, think of themselves as the “real” people: brave, honorable but harsh if challenged.
We set out at 7:30 the next morning, drove down through Suswa again and then turned south until we came to a petroleum pumping station and forded a small stream. Navigation immediately became one of compass directions and distances. Imagine scrubland crossed by any number of cattle trails making foot deep dust, fine a talc. We came up on a small clapboard building and a rock pile (the building fund) and heard singing. After a few minutes of the inevitable greetings, introductions, and involved interrogation regarding the whereabouts and health of my family, we piled 13 people into each car and left. More would have boarded if we had allowed it. The trip out to Narok took about 2 hours but was made memorable by the presence of the Kenya International Safari Rally. We went out alternating between marveling at the zebra, gazelle and giraffe and being terrorized by racecars, dodging around trucks and cars on the pot-holed two-lane road. Half way there, Bruce’s land cruiser overheated and blew the radiator cap into hiding. Another 25 minutes were taken up with refilling the radiator and finding the cap.
When we arrived in Narok we were however only slightly late. The choir was able to sing and dance . The graduation ceremony itself was more reserved and quietly joyful than any I’ve seen lately in the USA. Simon received his divinity certificate, an associate degree. He expects to get his bachelor's in about a year. As anywhere in the world, the ceremony was followed by photos with the various relatives. Simon’s mother, all 4’ 11” of her, and brother, Jackson were wreathed in smiles. Dr. Bruce Dahlman presented a bible commentary from the mission group. After a celebratory meal at a local restaurant (we wazungu got silverware) we started back with now 14 in our Land Rover; Simon was now sharing the front seat with Gary, the stick shift and me.
The entire return trip was rather more exciting than the trip out. It became an evangelical travel-log by Simon. He would point to a little building and tell us that that was where he had done a week-long crusade the previous year. Twenty-six people were saved. The building holds 40. There was the road that takes you to Dukuleli where he spoke for 3 days and started a new church last month. Here was the house of one of the people whom he had led to the Lord…
On arriving back at Namunchka, we were invited into his brother’s home and listened to Simon as he gave an impromptu seminar in evangelism. He felt that the Maasi were now being brought to Christ for two reasons. One, that these days are the endtimes and the success among the Maasi is part of the final incoming harvest. Secondly, he believes that the Maasi needed only to be presented with the gospel in the right format, by Maasi in Maasi. He sees himself in the great traditions of evangelical efforts from Pentecost on. He is bringing an update to Paul’s assertions that to Jew he is a jew and to Greeks, a greek. We left, the cars laboring to climb out of the Valley. I felt it had been a mountaintop day nevertheless.

This week, please pray for Simon Wajeri, the Namuncha Church and unsaved Maasi in Maasiland.