Sandra Randolph and Sirma Leliyong had been married in a brief traditional Maasai ceremony deep in Maasai country some six short months earlier and exactly two weeks after they had first met at a beach in the Coastal town of Mombasa.
For all intents and purposes she was now officially Mrs Sandra Leliyong. She had insisted on the ceremony for two reasons. Firstly her tourist visa had already expired and since the local African government recognized traditional marriages, she was now a local by nationality and would not require a visa ever again. Secondly she wanted to emphasize her love and commitment to Sirma and to show him how serious this whole thing really was.
Many visiting tourists had had passionate love affairs (more like sexual encounters) with the Maasai, but she wanted Sirma to know that theirs was more than a passing fancy. She wanted to live out here in the wild with her Maasai husband for the rest of her life.
Sandra had heard a lot about the Maasai and she had also read everything that she could lay her hands on, on this fascinating African tribe that had remained unchanged in their ways for centuries. Still she had been far from being prepared for what she had experienced with her Maasai man. There had been many men in her life but no other man had made her feel the way Sirma made her feel. A chill would go through her spine when she merely thought of their lovemaking.
She now fully understood why that English woman had given up everything and deserted her husband and family to get married to some Maasai man. She had read the amazing story in a library back in the States from an old edition of a popular UK tabloid, The News of the World. These magnificent Maasais sure knew how to make a woman feel like a real woman – more of that later.
Due to some serious problems that they had faced with Sirma, in the Manyatta village where they had lived amongst his people, they had decided to migrate up here in the hills amongst the neighboring tribe to the Maasais, know as the Akamba people. The place was called the Iveti hills, the most beautiful place Sandra had ever set her eyes on. She wondered why nobody had ever thought of setting up a couple of tourist hotels up here.
The hills were high and would often be covered with mist in the early mornings. But when the sun was high enough in the sky, usually at about 10 in the morning, the mist would lift and you would see the neighboring hills and the valleys below, as far as your eye could reach. The hills were covered with vegetation and great huge rocks that stuck out of the sides of the hills and kept the steep descents and red fertile soil in place, especially when it rained. It was a fascinatingly beautiful view despite the corrugated iron sheet roofs and the grass thatched huts of households that increasingly dotted the entire landscape.
Sandra was yet to learn enough about the Akamba tribe, but they were very different from the Maasai. They were much more modern and many of them had gone to school and knew how to speak English, unlike the Maasai. She liked that part because her communication with Sirma was now better than ever and the progress he was making of learning English was much more rapid.
The Iveti hills are not far from Nairobi, the modern capital city of Kenya, it is only a one-hour drive. Neither are the Iveti hills far from the endless Maasai plaines that stretch endlessly in several directions, extending to Ongata Rongai, Ngong (where Sandra had first lived with Sirma), Kiserian and on to Namanga which borders Tanzania. In fact it crosses the border into a vast area in neighboring Tanzania that includes the entire Arusha area. So the Maasais are still found in both neighboring countries, Kenya and Tanzania.
All this vast tract of land belonged to the Maasai for centuries and many of the places still retain Maasais names to this day. Even cosmopolitan Nairobi had retained its’ Maasai name. Nairobi in Maasai means, “the place of cool waters.”
The relationship between Sandra Randolph and Sirma Leliyong was even more extraordinary when you considered the recent historical relationship between their ancestors – it had mostly been extremely hostile. As early as the 18th century when the first white people were beginning to explore the depths of the African continent, the Maasai were the single most feared obstacle that stood on the path of explorers.
They feared them much more than they did the deadly snakes of the African interior whose venom would kill in minutes or even the man-eating lions. They feared them much more than the deadly Malaria-carrying Mosquitos that had claimed the lives of so many white people.
Unlike other tribes who had been quickly subdued, the Maasai did not fear guns, a Maasai usually does not even think twice even about dangers that could possibly lead to death. In the old days they did not hesitate to attack and kill any strangers who attempted to cross their territory.
Even Sandra’s most prominent fellow countryman, a man representing some US newspapers by the name of Stanley, who had crossed the interior in search of a famous explorer called David Livingston, had dreaded the Maasai. As a result, he had made careful plans to get porters and guides at the Coast who understood the Maasai well.
To the white man at that time, the Maasai were an irrational, violent, bloodthirsty tribe who killed with little provocation. Yet what Sandra’s ancestors before never understood was that the Maasai had grown more fierce and violent while defending themselves from slave caravans that roamed African villages at the time to capture, young energetic able-bodied persons to sell off as slaves.
But Sandra was totally at ease with Sirma. In this relationship she had found something that had been missing in all her earlier relationships. A strong man, she could look up to who was totally devoted to her.
Sandra often remembered one of her most challenging moments in her marriage so far.
They had hardly been married for two weeks and Sirma had rushed off to get her cigarettes at the nearest shopping center some 8 miles away when she was cornered by one of her husband’s colleagues in the Manyatta where she was all alone.
The Manyatta had taken some getting used to. This is the low often hurriedly constructed mud hut that the Maasai live in. Throughout history the Maasai have been a semi-nomadic people roaming around their vast terrain in the African Plaines.
The reason why the Manyatta had been a challenge was mainly the strong pungent smell of cow dung. The insides and outsides are normally plastered with cow shit and sometimes when it is fresh and before it dries, it smells terrible, making breathing difficult. To be honest, the first time Sandra had come near a Manyatta, she had thrown up.
But by the time she got married to Sirma, she had long gotten used to the smell. In fact she had realized that it tends to be pleasantly cool inside a Manyatta.
She had heard of the Maasai custom where age mates share wives in an elaborate wife swapping exercise that would make the most hardened western swinging couples, blush. If a man came across a Manyatta and the man of the house was not in, all he had to do was stick his spear in the ground. This was a sign for everybody else to keep off. Including the woman’s husband. He would then go inside and make love to the woman of the house.
Although Sandra was well aware of this bizarre tribal custom, she had always assumed that she was a special case and definitely an exception and that none of Sirma’s age-mates would dare come anywhere near her. She was wrong.
She had been half asleep that day when she heard the distinct sound of a spear being driven very hard into the ground just outside my Manyatta. Immediately, she sensed that she was in serious trouble. Sirma had left barely 5 minutes before and would not be back for another 45 minutes at the very least.
The brute of a Maasai man entered and casually walked towards her without saying a word. His head was clean-shaven and perspiring, probably more out of excitement than the heat outside. There was lust written all over his face as he silently made his way to the bed where Sandra had now sat up. She desperately tried to do some quick thinking.
In the Maasai custom, women did not have any rights, there’s was to submit to the whims of the men, even their husband’s age mates.
“No.” she said firmly as she quickly jumped out of the bed and covered herself with a sheet. Her sharp commanding voice seemed to startle him and actually stopped him, but only for a moment. His angry swollen member was already exposed and leading the way towards her. The Maasai men do not wear any trousers or under wear. Instead they wore only small piece of cloth that covered the front and another that covered the back. The result was that by simply standing on the side, anybody was able to have a pretty good view of their manhood.
The brute of a man continued making his way towards her. She knew that screaming for help would not help, because nobody would dare come inside the manyatta as long as that spear was stuck on the ground at the doorway. And yet the brute of a man was just too big and strong for her to resist.
Sandra started moving backwards, dragging the small bed along with her. It was now the only obstacle that separated them.
“NO,” she said sharply again. “I am not going to do this. You understand me? I said NO.”
It was hopeless and a waste of breadth on her part. The man did not understand any English. In fact he was already smiling in triumph as he continued to advance towards her. She suddenly came to an abrupt stop as the wall behind her prevented any further movement. The Man just kept coming.
CONTINUED
EXTRA==========================
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