Sleepover in Rongumo

Last weekend I had my first African sleepover party, and it was probably the best one of my life.

Alicia calls Ingo Khaso the "Kissing Lady" because she'll always come up to you and give you kisses on your neck; she's too short to reach anywhere else. She's absolutely precious, so what could be better than going out to the goob (village) where she lives, Rongumo, and spending the night in her min!?

We drove about 30 minutes out of Korr into the bush, stuffed into the back of Nick's truck with mattresses piled up, water canisters, and our toothbrushes. It was already twilight by the time we reached Rongumo, but any thoughts of settling down for a quiet night quickly dissipated. Children came running from all directions yelling "Wazungu!!!" ("White people!") and the women gladly left their cooking fires. We stood around for at least an hour and a half talking with the kids and women with our limited language skills, each of us repeating our Rendille names over and over again with the inevitable result of squeals of delight. We took hundreds of pictures, especially family portraits for all the mammas who wanted a picture of themselves and their wailing babies, were entertained by an impromptu children's choir performance, and taught the kids the Hokey-Pokey.

When it was too dark to see anything anymore, and left feet were being kicked right hands in the middle of a massively disorganized Hokey-Pokey circle, Khaso called us into her "min" for chai and supper. A min is essentially a hut made out of bamboo-like sticks that are bent into a dome shape and then covered with bits of cloth, cardboard, and old milk cartons sewn together. They stay very cozy inside, which is perhaps not what one would ideally have in the middle of the desert, but the smokey interior assures that you wont get any mosquito bites! So the 5 of us sat our bums down on Khaso's animal skins and tried to get down our fresh camel milk. It's not an unpleasant taste, as we've all gotten used to it being in our chai, but camel milk straight up is... strong. Thank goodness they expected us not to like it, and just laughed when we took a sip and said we were done. (Fun Fact: Camel's milk is one of the world's most nutritious foods. It has tons of vitamins and we've heard it said that it will satisfy both thirst and hunger. Therefore, the Rendille will literally drink it for 3 meals a day, especially when there's not enough money or meat to eat otherwise.)

We had some stew we'd brought from home, and sat around finally getting some real food while we listened to Nick translate Khaso telling us how she became a Christian.

After dinner we went back outside to sit in the cool breeze, enjoy the stars, and listen to a Rendille Bible reading by Nick. I had 4 or 5 kids threading their arms through mine, and one girl not much younger than I stick her "rinrimo" (traditional beaded headdress of women)on my head. Everyone had quite exhausted themselves with the evening activities, and as a result were slowly getting sleepy. Khaso eventually kicked the kids off our mattresses and told us to go to get ready for bed. Jamie and I positioned ourselves head to foot on our mattress, Khaso propped a stick up against the flap-door to "lock up" for the night, said her prayers goodnight over us, and we promptly fell asleep.

At 5:30 am Khaso started brewing our morning chai, so that meant it was time for us to wake up! We sat for a while trying to brush off grogginess, took our tea, and started another round of photo taking! We watched some mammas and kids milk the goats, took a peak at the baby camel who had been penned up for the night, and continued our jokes and incessant chit-chat with the ladies. Nick literally had to tell us four times it was time to go before we finally gave Khaso kisses and jumped back in the truck.

There is something so very comforting about sleeping around a tiny fire in a tiny min which you cannot see nor stand up in. It's a safe feeling, and I almost felt as if I could live in such place quite satisfactorily for a long time. I would miss showers, and I would miss real food, but I totally appreciated the simplicity of such a life; including, but not limited to, going out into the pitch black night-time desert to pee behind a bush. It's liberating to leave the complications of modern life behind. I'm not saying it's a glamorous life the traditional Rendille live; there are terrible hardships they face. You must fear disease, hyena attacks, drought, losing goats or camels. You have to work to bring water from the wells, watch your dozens of children (if you're a woman), and pick up and move the village 3 times a year (the Rendille are still semi-nomadic, although at this point it's more of tradition that compels the move rather than necessity.) Their poverty presents itself in the forms of hunger and dirtiness, however when you compare these to the prostitution, alcoholism, drug addictions, and human trafficking of urban poverty, it may in fact become the lesser of the evils. However, in the brief moment I experienced it, the hospitality and easy love of Goob Rongumo credits it significantly in my eyes.I've never more enjoyed spending the night away from my own bed.