Besides the drama of an American's taxes in Kenya, here's some details on the activities of the past few weeks!
Ngurinit (in-gur-in-it) is a town out by the mountains, about 45 kilometers from Korr, and a 1 1/2 hour drive on dry roads. It's absolutely stunning out there because it's in the rain shadow of the mountains, so they get all the "robeya" (green/foliage). Our trip began when we were picked up by the Knowles family in their truck, and after a chapati burrito lunch, loaded into the pick-up bed, and rode off into an ominous looking cloud.
We didn't have a chance against this MASSIVE rain storm, and as it rolled in and we were pelted with rain whose sting was worsened by the speed at which we were driving. There was an old army tarp sitting in the bed of the truck with us, so we 12 passengers in the back pulled it out, threw it over ourselves and held on. What was not considered before unfolding said tarp, was the fact that it had been sitting in the bed of that truck for a while gathering an innumerable amount of African dirt. And so, we remained wet, and became muddy. (This gem of a picture below is of Jamie under the tarp, rain dripping down her shirt and pants, wearing sunglasses to keep the water out of her eyes.)
Upon our soggy arrival to Ngurnit, Temple Knowles (the man's name, not a place of worship) took us all out to begin a "45 minute hike." We were already wet and dirty, so why worry about a walk up a reasonable looking hill. Oh no. I had a blast, believe me, but this (look below) rolled in about 30 minutes in, and we were only half way up. 
We spent a good hour and a half in a leopard/baboon cave, evidenced by the variety of dung laying around, before being able to move on. Despite the chill, and volatile safety of the locale, we had a fabulous discussion about Christ returning, the end of the World, and the natural disasters that would ensue, topics, I believe, which were brought on by the magnitude of our situation and view."Between a rock and a hard place" is a colloquialism I've never known in such literal terms before this hike. The "rock" I'm referring to is the mountain we were currently hiking, one of the many abrupt outcroppings of mountains in this part of the northern desert. (It's quite interesting to look out over the horizon for miles with your line of sight interrupted only by a mountain without a range.) The hard place is a sheer cliff with only clouds visible below. This is where we moved on to from our cave and did some rock climbing that should have been assisted by a carabiner, ropes, and a helmet. I'm a self-diagnosed clinical acrophobe, so having my finger tips holding my whole body from going over the edge of a steep cliff was unnerving. Eventually, however, we made it to the top and back down for a pizza dinner: 4 hours later.
The next day we took a small walk, this one really was only that, up to the "bathtubs." The granite in the luggah there has been so worn down by flood waters, that now it's quite comfortable to use as a waterslide and natural-made pools. We spent a good few hours relaxing in the only "bathtub" for hundreds of miles, and after that refreshment made our way back home from Ngurinit on the ATVs, arriving in Korr, again, wet from our sweat and brown from the dirt.
Recently we've also been working really hard on our traditional beaded necklaces with our various Mommas and Ingos and lady students. 
I beaded a lot when I was younger. For examples of my early work ask Mom to show you the jewelery collection I made her. I even still have my old baking soda tin full of beads. But making "irtiyyo" (ear -tea -yo/ in the plural form) is a real art. You have to buy hundreds of beads, thread them on to fairly sturdy wire, and be sure not to upset the delicate internal balance of Rendille fashion. There are colors you may and may not use, or at least not use together. "Babar tiya" (my mother) said that she didn't like my light blue and orange combination so I had to change it to orange and black because that is "weyti hahhaagganahe" (very good/beautiful), although it's a little too "Halloweeny" for my taste. It's funny how particular the Rendille can be about their colors. It took us a good three days of seeking out local wisdom on the subject to determine that dark blue was in fact an ok color for women to wear. Interestingly, it was the men who had a strong opinion of the negative connotations of dark blue beads even though they're not the ones wearing them. According to the teachers at school it's the color of death, although how a culture of strictly dark-skinned people knows that sometimes bodies turn blue when they die is beyond me. And Abaya, well all he said was, "Uh-oh. Madaakkino! Mele mele mele." (Uh oh! Good grief! No, no, no.) However, upon talking to the Rendille mommas and sneaking pokes at the irtiyyo of women around town, we discovered that dark blue is in fact perfectly decent. Good thing too, because it's my favorite! 
There's hours of work to be done on our necklaces still. This is a piece of jewelry that is traditionally developed over years and years for Rendille women. You begin wearing beads when you're young, but irityyo don't reach their full volume until into a woman's 20s. By this point a woman's collection of beads has been enhanced by receiving them from male admirers, getting money to buy them, or being given them by your father upon marriage. We white ladies are skipping over quite a few life stages to get our irtiyyo finished, but I want to be able to wear mine to our dances at school. That's the whole point of these things anyway; to make them bounce around your neck as you dance with the purpose of attracting the warriors. We also went over to Ingo Mary's last weekend in order for her to have a slightly premature going-away party for Jamie. We drank camel's milk with her and her family, she presented Jamie with beads, and painted henna on our feet. Unfortunately, mine looked like mustard yellow Christmas tree, but the gift was precious nonetheless.
This is Sukto Tiya (My Sukto). She's the neighbor and best friend of Priscilla, Ingo's daughter. They're such cutie patooties. Everyday on our way to and from school (and sometimes to and from all over again) they are there to great us, give hugs, and blow kisses.
Lately we've introduced the "jump shot" to our students. That's Gabe on the left and Jonathan on the right. I could wax poetic about these two boys. They're awesome. If you would like to sponsor Jonathan to go to Seminary, let's talk. If you feel called to send Gabe to get engineering training, let's talk.
Remember the post about my birthday? With the dancing and Game Night at school... Well Miss Jammey-Pants got one too! However, her 24th birthday party/ Game Night even included a "Coke-Off" between herself and Samuel Mondi. I guess against others, she might have stood a chance, but against Samuel... She failed. Mondi: 7 seconds to finish. Jamie: around 15 seconds but then we became too preoccupied cheering for Mondi to continue her count.
A "Bubblegum-Off" followed that. Ten pieces of gum: Who can blow the first bubble? Abdulahi definitely trounced poor Alicia, but she gave it a good effort.
This game night also included the introduction of Limbo to our African kids, and they LOVED it! I wish I had been able to remember the song that goes along with this game, but there was so much yelling and cheering that a song might have only added to the decibel level in the cafeteria. We went about 7 or 8 rounds, until the stick was at my mid-thigh (I was the Limbo stick holder), and at that point, everyone was eliminated except precious Jeremiah who is only 4 ft. something. "I won Madame, I won!" Of course you did sweetheart!
After Limbo, dancing ensued, and with it a great amount of excitement and sweat. This dance party didn't disappoint either as we ladies learned a few more "moves" (this time how to bend your knees, give a little bounce, and then bob your chin back at your dance partner), and the boys became so exstatic they started doing high jumps in the center of the room. I didn't know this while watching it happen, but evidently, when the warriors become really happy and are having a lot of fun, they will form a circle and take turns in the middle jumping as high as they can. From a western perspective it's hilarious to watch, but I'm inclined to believe that we need more overt shows of happiness like this back home.
People sing, cry, laugh, and clap for joy. Lately, I've thought, why not add high jumps to the list?
(Above is Job patting my head, a sign of encouragement for ladies who are either dancing well or look tired. I was probably the latter.)
Claire. You are having too much fun!
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