I was excited at the prospect of visiting the Maasai village... until we were actually on our way. The fear crept up on me and as the kilometers between us and the village disappeared, so did my desire to be there. What exactly was I afraid of? Being social, I suppose... and not being able to make the most of an opportunity. I knew we would be invited to interact with the people, but as we bumped closer and closer, all I wanted to do was stay in the truck.

Even as we climbed down from the Land Rover, and we were surrounded by the little children, my instinct was to hold back. Looking over to Laura, I saw her in the midst of little ones clamoring over her to see their image on the display of her camera. So I began taking her picture...until I was utterly mesmerized by the parade of women making their way towards us singing their foreign song. Before I knew what was happening, I was taken by the hand, beaded collars passed over my head and I was being draped in fabric. And then... we danced.


I tried to repeat the foreign song and succumbed to laughter as I failed, as did Ava, my newest friend. I briskly handed over my camera, my jacket and every bit of fear I had padded my heart with, and I danced... with abandon and laughter and... joy. How welcomed and free I felt... and I recognized the gift that had been given. I turned to Ava and asked her How do I say thank you? She smiled and coached me through the syllables until I could repeat it... ashinanay. And when I thought I finally had it right, I looked into her eyes, took her hand and thanked her, in her own language, for the beauty she had shared with me.
While we were in the small village, we thatched the roof of a hut and Camden helped mud the inside (with a mud that surely included elephant poop.) We shared conversations about their life, and ours... and then we shopped from the array of treasures they layed out in our honor. Many times during our visit I turned to Ava and repeated the words she had taught me...
ashinanay. But when it was time, I said goodbye in the language of the heart... a hug. Before we climbed back into the truck, I stood with my Mom for a moment and we turned for a last glimpse together. Then put my arms around her sobbed a thank you.
That evening, at dinner, George (one of our wonderful drivers!) asked me if I had enjoyed the visit to the village. I answered without hesitation
Oh, yes! George smiled, and told me that he had seen me dancing and laughing... and then he asked
Why did you have tears? With a deep sigh, I thought about the time we had spent with the Maasai, and then answered.
They were so welcoming and open to us. They shared so much and the beauty struck my heart. And I cried... because... it was so very beautiful to me, and then because I might not ever pass this way again.
Maybe I will, and maybe I won't... but driving away from the beauty, I told my heart in no uncertain terms... to banish the fear. I almost let it take away one of the most unique experiences of my life, and I would have been sorry... forever. And this life we are given... it is not to be missed!