by Fiona Quinn
“Another rite of passage is circumcision. This is the most important ritual in a Maasai child’s life. It is called excision for the girls.”
Meg’s whole body tightened down.
“It is the father’s duty to make sure his children undergo this rite of passage,” Robert said as they jostled over the uneven surface. “This, of course, involves a great deal of pain. It tests the child’s courage. Flinching is a shameful thing. It brings dishonor to the families. If the boys flinch or cry out, the family will pay cattle for the shame. If he does not, then he is showing his bravery and his family will be given cows and goats as a reward.”
“How old are the boys when this happens?” Meg was looking at the side of Ahbou’s face. His expression was neutral, but he held his body very still as Robert explained.
“They go to the ritual hut as they are entering pubescence with their age mates. After the ceremony, they will have time to heal. You will see some youngsters in their grey or black cloaks, showing that they are recovering and healing as this rite has been performed recently for several youngsters in our boma. After this process, they will become warriors. This is a civic requirement. It is like military service in Israel. Is that not right, Dr. Silverman?”
“That used to be right. When I turned eighteen, I was required to do military service for three years. But that is no longer the case. Israel has become more selective, and now it’s considered a privilege to serve.”
“Ah, well, it is an honor to be a Maasai warrior too. The young boys look forward to this special time in their life. Believe me, it goes too fast.”
“What makes you say that, Robert?” Meg leaned forward. “What did you like best about it?”
“Oh, the attention of the girlfriends. You could have as many girlfriends as you wanted. And being together with our age mates. We did everything with each other. We began our training by going and living in the bush, which I liked very much. I like to be with the wild animals. I feel a deep kinship with them. I liked having the long hair. Only warriors are allowed long hair.” He chuckled as he patted his shaved head. “When I danced, I could make my braids sail up and then land on the top of my head. It made me very popular with the girls.”
Meg sent him a smile.
“The bush has many lessons to teach. It is important to learn respect for others and how to contribute to the welfare of the whole community. We were all very sad when our warrior time was over, and we went through our ceremony to become elders. Thereafter we must take a wife and provide for a family.”
“And the girlfriends?”
“We could not keep them. We must choose a wife among the circumcised women. The girls must be very strong to go through this rite. It is good for them to go through the process. It prepares them for the pain of childbirth. It shows they are ready to be women. This rite happens as the girl becomes the right age to marry. If they were to become pregnant before excision they would be banished and they would carry this stigma for their whole life. After they go through this rite of passage, our women feel they do not have to be afraid of anything.”
Meg felt her stomach churning. And while these girls could and would sit stoically while an elder cut away the hood of her clitoris, Meg simply couldn’t wipe the sour look from her face just hearing about it. Rooster handed her a bottle of water. Meg took it gratefully, hiding her reaction by tipping the bottle back and drinking.
“When the girls heal, they will be ready to give birth to our next warriors. A few months after the rite, the young woman’s husband will come to take her to live with his family.” Robert pulled up under a tree and put the Rover in park. “Come, let me introduce you to the elders. They are gathering to welcome you.”
Randy and Rooster stood beside Meg as she adjusted her clothes. “Randy, for heaven’s sake. You owe me so big over this vest thing.”
Randy gave her one of his grins, the kind he used when he wanted to be endearing. “I’ll buy the drinks tonight.”
“Least you could do,” she grumped. Meg knew she was venting her feelings about the horrible plight of the Maasai girls—her view of it, at least—not her discomfort in the vest. The vest was mostly forgettable. She cast her gaze over to Horace Brindle. He was the Key Initiative’s sociologist, and the rites of the girls versus the rights of girls was a big question that he was supposed to grapple with. Still. The pictures she’d conjured on the ride here were sticky and clung to her imagination, turning her stomach and making her wish she hadn’t eaten so much of the English breakfast back at the hotel.
Randy scuffed his toe into the red dirt. “That’s messed up, man. I don’t think I could sit through it if they wanted to circumcise me without flinching. My family would have to deal with the dishonor and pay a bunch of goats. I’m telling you, I’d scream like a girl.”
“The girls aren’t allowed to scream,” Meg replied.
“Okay. I’d be squealing like a pig.” Randy raised his brow. “That better?”
Meg canted her head. “You’re not circumcised?”
“Not something that happens in El Salvador. The idea is kind of odd to me.”
“But Rooster is from America, I imagine he’s been circumcised.” Meg wondered if it was weird for someone who was uncircumcised to be with a man who was. Then the pink rose in her cheeks as she realized she was imagining Rooster’s penis.
Randy turned to catch Rooster’s eye. “I thought they only did that to babies in the hospital with anesthesia and shit.” He looked back at Meg. “Isn’t that what happened with Kelly’s baby?”
“Yes, and you know, in my duty as an aunt, at first I was going to try to talk her out of it, but there’s a lot of science that says circumcision can be healthier for boys—reducing AIDS transmission, phimosis and cancer, stuff like that. But there are no positives to excising a girl.”
“Phimosis?” Rooster asked.
Meg held up a fist and wrapped her other hand around it to demonstrate. “That’s when the foreskin becomes tight over the penis’s head and becomes difficult to retract.”
“Okay.” Randy pushed her hands down. “I’m done with this conversation. I am not talking about retracting foreskin with my sister.” He pointed toward their group. “That guy’s waving us over.”
“Hey, Randy.” Rooster bumped into Randy as they moved to join the others. “If you need to piss, you might want to do it in private. These Maasai warriors see you’ve still got everything intact, they might insist on making a man of you.”
“Asshole.”
Rooster clapped his hands on Randy’s shoulder, pushing him along in front. “I hear you, baby boy.”
Chapter Fourteen
Meg
Ngorongoro Crater, Tanzania
Meg’s stomach growled loudly. Ahbou covered his wide smile with his hand, but his eyes were laughing outright at the noise as they walked back to the Rover to head to the spot where they were to lunch. A group of warriors was to meet them there with a special treat.
Ahbou had been introduced to the boma by Robert. The two had both English and Kiswahili languages in common. Meg thought it was a good thing that Ahbou’s words were spoken by a Maasai elder to his fellow elders. It gave them importance. The group was intrigued by the blinking lights and their success in Ahbou’s village. Meg had been straining to hear them talk as she sat at a distance with the women. That the Key Initiative was populated by men would be an asset in this male-run world. But there was hope that the women could be empowered along the way, especially through education. Baby steps.
“Where did you learn English, Ahbou?” Rooster was standing next to the Rover, holding their door open for them.
“My mother was very clever with languages. She collected them like other women collect necklaces. She thought that English was going to be the most important language, so that is the language she taught us as babies.”
Rooster shut their door after she and Ahbou climbed in, and leaned his arms on the window, listening.
“Was th
at a problem with her village?” Meg asked. “Teaching her children English as their first language?” The great mosaic of African languages, while wonderful, also caused confusion in terms of complex business dealings and modernization.
“When my mother married my father, she left her village. We lived in my father’s village. They did not know she was teaching us English. They thought she was speaking to her children in her native language.”
“But where did she hear English?” Meg pressed. “How did she learn? Did she go to school?”
“No school for girls, no. When she was little, there was a man who came from the Peace Corps in America to help them build a well and teach them to farm. He stayed for two years, and then he went home. He taught her English and how to read and left her with three books. The Bible. The Dictionary. And a book by Mr. Rudyard Kipling.”
“Rikki-Tikki-Tavi?” Rooster said with a grin. “One of my favorite stories when I was your age.”
“Yes, this is my favorite story too.” Ahbou said. “I have always wished for a mongoose to protect me from the snakes here. The snakes are very deadly.”
“You speak very well,” Rooster said. “It’s good to be able to communicate with lots of languages. Do you like to speak in English or should we speak in Kiswahili?”
“English, please. When I was old enough to go to school with the boys from my father’s village, they began to teach us English. But I spoke already, so I got to read the English textbooks and improve. I like to practice with English speakers too. If I go to university, I will need to be a very good speaker.”
“Where is your mother now?” Meg reached around and tugged her ballistic vest down. “You told me your father had died.”
“Yes, she died too. She and my sisters. They had cholera. This is why I study hard to become an engineer. I want everyone to have clean, safe water. I want to make it so good water is possible, no matter where the people live.”
“That’s very admirable. Your mother would be proud, I’m sure.” Meg wanted to hug Ahbou, but she knew his stoicism was part of his culture, and to treat him as if he were to be pitied was the wrong thing to do. She worked hard to swallow her emotions. “So now you live with your uncle? Or do you have other family?”
“My uncle is my only family. I visit him. But I live at the school, in the dormitory.”
“I’m glad you get this time with him. And I’m glad to have been here while you are on holiday.” Meg’s stomach rumbled again and Ahbou lifted his hand to hide his grin. “Aren’t you hungry, Ahbou?”
“We eat twice a day. Once when the sun comes up and once when the sun goes down. It is the tourists who must eat so many times a day.”
Meg grinned. “Like the babies who must eat often?”
Now Ahbou was laughing. “Yes, like the babies.”
A warrior climbed on top of their roof and Robert started the car and drove. At the boma, each vehicle had picked up one Maasai warrior who rode on the roofs of the Rovers. Having a warrior along for the ride was a win-win. It gave their families money, and there was no better way of staying safe. These men could read the ground, the sway of the trees, and lethal spears were wielded by those who had been raised to face down lions.
They were considered men here. By American standards, the warriors were just entering their teenage years. An age when many US kids would be hard-pressed to get their rooms clean and take the trash out, Meg mused. Of course, here, the village relied on their abilities to safeguard the herds that were their family’s wealth. They were revered by the village and given special honors for their courage.
They drove past a herd of zebras grazing next to a majestic giraffe. It was all so postcard perfect. Rooster and Randy were snapping pictures as Robert fed them information. “Just ahead, we have prepared a special demonstration before your lunch. There will be English-style food served, but first we show you an example of Maasai foods.”
A Jeep angled across the field and drove toward them. Robert brought his Rover to a stop. “Here is Inga Koskinen. She is a field biologist with the Serengeti Lions Project. She has been documenting the comings and goings of the lion population and helps the Maasai take evasive action so that the lions do not kill our herds.” He leaned his head out the window and gave her a wave.
“Jambo! Robert. I’m tracking two lions—Tamu and Furaha. Their mother was killed about two weeks ago, and I’m worried about them. They were just beginning to hunt. I hear there was a killing last night near your village. Have you spoken to your elders?”
“They are working with our warriors—they are saying to not track the lion and kill him. But there is agitation among the warriors. They want the same opportunity to prove their bravery as their fathers and grandfathers had. The elders are advocating that the papers be filed and the family paid for the lost cow.”
“We don’t want any of the warriors to be arrested. I think it might have been one of the lions I’m trying to find. They’re probably very hungry. If they killed a cow, though, they’ll need to be relocated to the wildlife preserve.”
“The kill happened very close. The mothers are frightened for their children.”
“Understandably so. I would appreciate the Maasais’ help in locating these lions. I want to make sure everyone is safe.”
Robert turned and gestured back. “Ahbou has brought us an invention he says works in his village to keep the lions away.”
Inga looked into the car at young Ahbou and got a bemused look on her face, then she saw Meg sitting beside him. “Meg, good to see you. I heard the Initiative was getting underway. Let us know how we can help.”
“Thanks, Inga. I’ll do that.”
“I don’t mean to hold you all up.” She turned her attention to Robert. “You were a warrior. You know how they think and how they will act. You also know how imperative it is for your boma to follow the new laws. You’ll do everything in your power to stop the warriors from hurting these lions, won’t you?”
Robert’s body grew tense. “I will continue to talk to them. I will call you if we find the lion.”
“Thank you.” And with a wave, she drove off.
The picnic area was just ahead. Meg could see that the Rovers were forming a protective circle around a trailer.
Robert stopped and turned to speak to their little group. “The Maasai people are known for our Olympic levels of stamina and conditioning. We can run for miles on end without stopping to eat or drink. We get our good health from our diet. We eat very little. Some tea in the morning. If it is the rainy season, then we may drink some milk, or a yogurt-like drink that is fermented and lumpy. Though we also eat a little fat, honey, and tree bark, the Maasai diet is almost one hundred percent protein, which comes from milk, blood, and meat.
“We get our salt from the blood we drink, otherwise salt is prohibited. Other foods which are prohibited are chicken, fish, and any wild game. For the warriors, though, their sole source of nutrition comes from their livestock. They eat meat as a group in a quiet place away from women. There are many taboos about food. For example, men must not eat meat that has been in contact with a woman, or has been handled by an uncircumcised boy after it has been cooked.” He looked directly at Meg. “If you please, as there are Maasai here for the demonstration, and male cooks here from the hotel, if you would allow me to serve you and Ahbou, it will allow these men to be able to eat, as well.”
“Um, yeah. Sure.” Meg replied.
Meg could just barely hear Rooster when he leaned over and whispered into Randy’s ear, “You should sit next to Meg and Ahbou and let Robert serve you too. You don’t want to taint a man’s meat.”
Randy’s elbow slammed into Rooster’s ribs.
Robert continued. “First, we will show you how the Maasai traditionally butcher their goats. We will then demonstrate how to make honey beer, and you will eat the catered foods which are more comfortable for westerners. I believe today you have beef kababs with rice and vegetables. And chocolate cookies. We will leav
e before the goat is ready to eat, and the warriors will have it tonight for their supper.”
Meg’s stomach gave an all-out plea for food that made the whole group chuckle. “Meg will want a snack first, of course. Rooster, the Maasai warriors would like to give you the honor of killing the goat.” And with that, they all climbed from the truck.
“Hear that?” Rooster said. “I think they’ve guessed your secret, baby boy. They need a real man to do a warrior’s job.” Rooster stretched to his full height and flexed his muscles.
Randy gave him a shove.
They moved inside the circle of Rovers. The warriors stood beside a bed of leaves. Robert gestured for Meg to sit on a fallen log and Ahbou to sit next to her, then handed Meg a napkin with four chocolate cookies wrapped inside.
She watched Abraham looking into the trees and shadows as he wandered toward the others. She could tell he’d done a stint in the Israeli military, he, Randy, and Rooster all had that same vigilance thing going on. The scientists all sat on the other side of the circle, and Randy was shooed in that direction, though he had tried to stay near her. She and Ahbou were clearly segregated from the group. She handed two of the cookies to Ahbou.
Robert and Rooster moved toward the goat. Robert was pointing and using his hands to help explain what it was that Rooster was expected to do. The little white goat was munching contentedly on leaves, held in place by a slim rope held by one of the Maasai. This kind of sucks. Meg had no idea this demonstration would be taking place. It certainly wasn’t anything she’d agreed to. She understood it was an honor to witness, but one she would gladly have foregone.
Rooster nodded and then looked her way. She read worry on his face and thought it was directed at her. Like he was asking her to turn her back and not watch. Yes, that was the distinct impression that he gave her, don’t watch.
“Ahbou, is it bad for a woman to be here while the goat is being killed?”
