Makenzie made use of the young herdsboy without the latter knowing what the old man was up to. It was too easy.
He suggested that he take his herd to graze at certain strategic places where he could carefully observe Sandra’s residence and her movements. He already had a pretty good idea of the couple’s daily movements, but he wanted to make sure and do some thinkling while he was at it. There was no way that he was going to allow himself to get caught. Stealing from Sandra.
As he kept up his surveillance for a full day, Makenzie at the same time kept the young herdsboy occupied with his captivating tales. When he needed to think he would provoke the younger man with some controversial remark that would really wind him up and get him talking. After that it was easy to just occasionally remark that he did not agree with him to keep him talking endlessly.
The former Miss Sandra Randolph, lived in a somewhat larger-than-usual grass-thatched hut whose walls were cemented. That meant that the walls had originally been done with dirt, like most huts, but cement had been used to finish them. The result was a solid, thick wall and a very firm house. The grass thatched roof kept it cool all day long. It was much cooler than the iron sheets that some of the better houses in the African village had. The hut had been hastily built for them by hired villagers after the couple had purchased the small parcel of land from a certain family in the area who were badly in need of funds to keep a son they were desperate to see through college, in medical school. Sandra had paid about $350 for it.
The hut, like most other homesteads in the area, did not have a fence surrounding it. There was just the dirt track coming from the road and twisting to the entrance of the hut’s solid wooden door. On the other end of the compound was the small pit latrine, built in much the same way as the main house that the couple also used as their bathroom. There was no electricity, but Sandra had purchased a small solar system that gave the house light and ran a small laptop computer which she used to keep her internet affiliate program running via a satellite internet link she had subscribed to. The affiliate program was bringing in a couple of hundred dollars every month. Makenzie had no idea what an affiliate program was.
Makenzie decided that he was going to gain entry from the back. Right next to the thick bush a few feet from the window at the back of the hut. He was going to force the window open and gain entry. Hopefully the entire job was going to take him a few minutes at the very most. All he was going to steal was all the cash he could find. He did not want the hassles of trying to sell off stolen property like Sandra’s laptop, which would virtually be impossible in this poverty-stricken village. And besides, even if he wanted it sold at the nearest town, he did not have the contacts to handle something like that.
Old man Makenzie needed lots of cash and he needed it urgently. He made a decision that he would execute his operation that very night instead of the next day. He would hide in the thick bush behind the house and wait for the couple to leave for their usual evening drink in the shopping center, some two kilometers away. He decided that it was too risky to try and gain entry to the hut during the day. Too many things could go wrong and the possibilities of being seen were just too high. With the cover of darkness, he could hide in the bush behind the house for hours on end and even if the couple were in the house, they would not know that he was there.
That night he was in the bush behind the house as soon as it was dark enough for him not to be seen. He had left his three-legged stool at home and he carried a tiny pencil torch. He could hear Where he was, he could hear Sandra’s voice coming clearly from the hut.
“You’re such a lazy good for nothing…” Sandra was saying.
“Good for nothing, mean what,” Sirma’s hesitant broken English.
“Oh never mind, just pass me that magazine.”
Brief silence.
“Sirma, I told you to pass me that magazine. No not that one you idiot, the green cover one… Oh what the hell, you don’t even know your colors my dear.”
“This one?”
“Yes. Well done you good for nothing husband of mine.”
“Good of nothing?
“Actually you’re good at what matters to me most…”
“You so abusive. Maasai no take abuse from woman.”
“They do when the woman is paying all the bills.”
“Bills?”
“Never mind my dear, you’re actually making good progress with your English.”
Brief silence.
“What’s the problem Sirma?”
“Shhhhh… somebody outside”
In what would appear to have been his carelessness, old man Mackenzie had trampled on some dry twig in the ground. The noise had reached Sirma’s sensitive hunting ears. Only that it was not Makenzie’s carelessness. The high altitude Iveti Hills area was not really known for snakes. Harmless grass snakes were rare, let alone poisonous colored ones. But somehow there had been one in the bush and the old man has trampled on the twig as he twisted round in pain the moment it’s fangs suck deep into his left heel. He did all he could to stop himself crying out.
Makenzie winced as the pain shot up his left leg. Where the hell had the snake come from, he kept asking himself even as he felt his body quickly begin to weaken from the venom. And such a poisonous snake that the venom took effect within moments. He could hear the door to the hut open and Sirma calling out, but he didn’t care about that. He was more worried about the snake venom causing havoc in his body. He knew that it would take a miracle to save his life. But where had such a poisonous snake come from?
CONTINUED
============
Nancy Burpee is a world class paralympic swimmer, who has set world records in the 50 and 100 yards freestyle but was disqualified and thus effectively locked out from the 2004 Paralympic Games held in Athens, Greece on a procedural technicality. Law firm simmons jannace & stagg represented her in an effort to have the disqualification overturned and argued that the Australian referee showed bias against Ms. Burpee by making various comments indicating that the Australian referee did not want Ms. Burpee competing against an Australian paralympic swimmer at the games.
====================
At long last there is insurance cover to take care of a problem families have been facing for years. Everyone has loaned a car out to a friend or family member for a short period of time and the nagging problem has always been, how to get it covered incase something happens. Now NORWICH Union has launched Short Term Car Insurance cover that caters for so-called lifestyle needs. This is also just the place to make sure you visit when you want to compare car insurance rates.
Wednesday, November 16, 2005
Saturday, November 05, 2005
A Previous Blog Novel By This Writer
Read a previous complete blog novel by this writer,
A Messy Affair At The Mara
At the end of the novel ther a number of posts where the writer just lets go on his personal issues. Be warned. The writer even talks about this strange job offer he is seeking only from those offering Financial jobs.
================
The Maasai are an indigenous African tribe of semi-nomadic people located in Kenya and northern Tanzania, are probably one of the most familiar tribes of East Africa. Despite the growth of modern civilization, the Maasai have largely managed to maintain their traditional ways, although this becomes more challenging each year.
Hiking Safari with the Masaai Warriors
By Ian Williamson
The walking safari in Ngorongoro Conservation area is becoming very popular. Normally it is preceded with a short safari in 4 x 4 safari Land Rover or Land Cruiser. Many people when they get to East Africa understandably want to see as much as possible and arrive here with killer agendas ahead of them. I would advise restraint with this temptation, which is to do too much in a short time. Safari fatigue can set in all too quickly with visitors reaching the halfway point in a safari and just longing for it all to end.
We would recommend some time spent at Lake Manyara, as you are able to get out onto the lake in a two-man canoe and see the game from this unusual perspective in this usual park. Also bicycles and village walking ‘cultural’ safaris are on offer. Take every chance you can to spend some time out of your safari vehicle. Stretch the legs and see Africa from as many perspectives as you can. There is much to experience and it cannot all be done from sitting on your bottom.
Remember the most enjoyable experiences are not achieved quickly.
The walking safari starts on the cool forested rim of Ngorongoro crater and ends in the dry heat and on the arid shores of Lake Natron – where temperature often exceed 40 c [105 f]. This soda lake is famous for the large numbers of flamingo’s that come here to breed. Indeed the flamingo seems to be the only animal that flourishes in this harsh environment.
The highland walking safaris cover a rage of altitudes [The range rises steeply from the surrounding plains at about 1500 meters to heights of between 2500 and 3500 meters.] it is advisable to wear many layers of clothing, as the temperatures will vary greatly. These safaris are quite energetic and a good level of fitness is required. The Crater Highlands range is roughly oval, measuring about 80 km by 40 km.
The Highlands are volcanic in origin, with the different peaks being created over millions of years by a series of eruptions connected with the formation of the Great Rift Valley. The older volcanoes have been eroded and most have collapsed to form the craters
Empakaai crater is 600 meters in diameter and 300 meters deep. With much of the base of the crater covered by a deep [80 meter] soda lake. Here there are many birds, antelope, buffalo and blue monkeys, with the thickly forested walls plunge to the crater floor. If you want to climb into the crater and explore you will be required to be accompanied by an armed guide. The crater is heavily grazed by buffalo – the buffalo are notoriously anti-social and very aggressive. To catch the best Rift Valley views, it is a must to be there at dawn or dusk as the cloud cover can be heavy at other times. The familiar water birds to be spotted here include the black-winged stilt, cape teal and flamingo.
Ol Moti Crater, this can only be reached by foot and an armed ranger must accompany you. The scenery of Ol Moti is beautiful, with islands of forest and a waterfall at the source of the Munge River. Monkeys and buffalo are seen in the area.
The active volcano Ol Donyo Lengai at 2,878m is a popular way to end the walking safari. This volcano erupts every seven years. Here an early morning start essential. The climb is steep on powdery scree; therefore climbing the steep slopes on this very loose footing is neither easy nor enjoyable. The early morning start is to avoid the heat of the sun, as there is no shade on the mountain and together with the heat and lack of water makes this early start, in the pre dawn darkness, essential. This climb would only be recommended for the physically fit and if you have an interest in volcanoes, otherwise relax at the bottom and enjoy a well-earned rest and a cool drink.
Now it is time for a Serengeti Safari; climb back into your safari vehicle and spot the animals in comfort.
For information on these or any issues pertaining to Tanzania see http://www.tanzania-info.co.uk for cultural and safari information http://www.betheladventure.co.uk help make the world a better place through responsible tourism.
================
The truth is that contrary to what most people think, prices have not gone up, it is just that our paper money has lost a lot of value, more so because it is no longer backed by real money, real silver and gold. Did you know that the same weight in silver still buys gas at the price of decades ago (25 cents a gallon). That’s why investment experts have long-recommended portfolio diversification and that 20% or more of an investor's assets be devoted to tangible assets such as gold, silver and platinum bullion and bullion coins. This is a prudent asset diversification strategy critical in today’s uncertain world that is made possible by Monex a company that has been helping clients buy gold bullion since 1967.
================
The undisputed number one tourist destination in the world is Orlando, welcoming more than 43 million tourists annually. That also makes it a hot real estate destination. Anybody with an eye for Orlando Real Estate Agent will be interested in contacting Buyers Broker of Florida, a unique exclusive Buyer Agency Office that always represents the best interest of the homebuyer and not that of the seller like so many others do to the homebuyers great disadvantage.
A Messy Affair At The Mara
At the end of the novel ther a number of posts where the writer just lets go on his personal issues. Be warned. The writer even talks about this strange job offer he is seeking only from those offering Financial jobs.
================
The Maasai are an indigenous African tribe of semi-nomadic people located in Kenya and northern Tanzania, are probably one of the most familiar tribes of East Africa. Despite the growth of modern civilization, the Maasai have largely managed to maintain their traditional ways, although this becomes more challenging each year.
Hiking Safari with the Masaai Warriors
By Ian Williamson
The walking safari in Ngorongoro Conservation area is becoming very popular. Normally it is preceded with a short safari in 4 x 4 safari Land Rover or Land Cruiser. Many people when they get to East Africa understandably want to see as much as possible and arrive here with killer agendas ahead of them. I would advise restraint with this temptation, which is to do too much in a short time. Safari fatigue can set in all too quickly with visitors reaching the halfway point in a safari and just longing for it all to end.
We would recommend some time spent at Lake Manyara, as you are able to get out onto the lake in a two-man canoe and see the game from this unusual perspective in this usual park. Also bicycles and village walking ‘cultural’ safaris are on offer. Take every chance you can to spend some time out of your safari vehicle. Stretch the legs and see Africa from as many perspectives as you can. There is much to experience and it cannot all be done from sitting on your bottom.
Remember the most enjoyable experiences are not achieved quickly.
The walking safari starts on the cool forested rim of Ngorongoro crater and ends in the dry heat and on the arid shores of Lake Natron – where temperature often exceed 40 c [105 f]. This soda lake is famous for the large numbers of flamingo’s that come here to breed. Indeed the flamingo seems to be the only animal that flourishes in this harsh environment.
The highland walking safaris cover a rage of altitudes [The range rises steeply from the surrounding plains at about 1500 meters to heights of between 2500 and 3500 meters.] it is advisable to wear many layers of clothing, as the temperatures will vary greatly. These safaris are quite energetic and a good level of fitness is required. The Crater Highlands range is roughly oval, measuring about 80 km by 40 km.
The Highlands are volcanic in origin, with the different peaks being created over millions of years by a series of eruptions connected with the formation of the Great Rift Valley. The older volcanoes have been eroded and most have collapsed to form the craters
Empakaai crater is 600 meters in diameter and 300 meters deep. With much of the base of the crater covered by a deep [80 meter] soda lake. Here there are many birds, antelope, buffalo and blue monkeys, with the thickly forested walls plunge to the crater floor. If you want to climb into the crater and explore you will be required to be accompanied by an armed guide. The crater is heavily grazed by buffalo – the buffalo are notoriously anti-social and very aggressive. To catch the best Rift Valley views, it is a must to be there at dawn or dusk as the cloud cover can be heavy at other times. The familiar water birds to be spotted here include the black-winged stilt, cape teal and flamingo.
Ol Moti Crater, this can only be reached by foot and an armed ranger must accompany you. The scenery of Ol Moti is beautiful, with islands of forest and a waterfall at the source of the Munge River. Monkeys and buffalo are seen in the area.
The active volcano Ol Donyo Lengai at 2,878m is a popular way to end the walking safari. This volcano erupts every seven years. Here an early morning start essential. The climb is steep on powdery scree; therefore climbing the steep slopes on this very loose footing is neither easy nor enjoyable. The early morning start is to avoid the heat of the sun, as there is no shade on the mountain and together with the heat and lack of water makes this early start, in the pre dawn darkness, essential. This climb would only be recommended for the physically fit and if you have an interest in volcanoes, otherwise relax at the bottom and enjoy a well-earned rest and a cool drink.
Now it is time for a Serengeti Safari; climb back into your safari vehicle and spot the animals in comfort.
For information on these or any issues pertaining to Tanzania see http://www.tanzania-info.co.uk for cultural and safari information http://www.betheladventure.co.uk help make the world a better place through responsible tourism.
================
The truth is that contrary to what most people think, prices have not gone up, it is just that our paper money has lost a lot of value, more so because it is no longer backed by real money, real silver and gold. Did you know that the same weight in silver still buys gas at the price of decades ago (25 cents a gallon). That’s why investment experts have long-recommended portfolio diversification and that 20% or more of an investor's assets be devoted to tangible assets such as gold, silver and platinum bullion and bullion coins. This is a prudent asset diversification strategy critical in today’s uncertain world that is made possible by Monex a company that has been helping clients buy gold bullion since 1967.
================
The undisputed number one tourist destination in the world is Orlando, welcoming more than 43 million tourists annually. That also makes it a hot real estate destination. Anybody with an eye for Orlando Real Estate Agent will be interested in contacting Buyers Broker of Florida, a unique exclusive Buyer Agency Office that always represents the best interest of the homebuyer and not that of the seller like so many others do to the homebuyers great disadvantage.
Friday, November 04, 2005
The only weapon a woman has in moments like this...
The greatest fear on Sandra’s mind as the brute of a man reached for her was HIV-Aids. She had been careful to get Sirma tested before their wedding and had made it clear to him that she was going to kill him if she as much as sensed that he had another woman.
Sirma had jokingly asked in the sign language they communicated with in those early days, what he was going to kill her with. To which she indicated to him she would use a gun. She could tell that got to him, because his smile froze rather suddenly. Maasai’s believed from their long history of contact with white people that every white person had extremely easy access to a gun.
Now Sandra was angry and she wished that she really had a gun in her hands right now. She would have pumped several bullets into this huge bull-like head. Surely she had not taken all the trouble she had to come to Africa to get Aids from this irrational brute who was doing his thinking with the wrong part of his anatomy. It would probably have made more sense to have contracted the damn disease from some junkie’s needle on the streets in some American city.
She now tried to use the only weapon a woman has in moments like this – her long nails. She took one or two violent swipes in the air near his oily face to show the brute that she was serious. He only smiled. She remembered in despair that Sirma had told her Maasai warriors were very good at ducking the claws of a lion. It was not so much the lion’s claws as the power behind them. One single swipe usually broke a gazelles’ neck. So what would it do to a man? So in learning how to hunt lion’s, avoiding the claws of a lion was one of the first hunting survival techniques that they would learn very early in life. She sensed that this brute would have no problems avoiding her long nails. She was right, suddenly he grabbed both her arms with a vice-like grip she knew she would never wriggle out of. In desperation she tried to get her nails in his eyes, but he only tightened his grip so much that she screamed in pain.
She hated to admit it to herself but it was now clear that there was very little that she was able to do to defend herself from this monster. And there were certainly no Ortho Evra Attorneys to look up to at that moment. At that very moment the almost unbearable smell of his sweat as he made an effort to force her down on the floor hit her. He was now using his huge legs to force her legs apart.
Sandra’s mind was still racing and she suddenly shifted one of her legs so that it was between the brute’s legs. Instinctively she knew she would have only one split second chance to do this and save herself from certain rape. With all the strength she would master she kicked hard towards the brute’s groin deliberately falling back so as to put as much force as possibly in her kick.
She was relieved when she heard the loud scream he uttered knowing that her kick had found its’ mark. He collapsed onto of her releasing her arms as his hands went to the source of his tremendous pain. Somehow the sheet had already fallen off her body and she was now stark naked, but she didn’t care. She wriggled from under him even as he rolled on the floor in pain and quickly run outside leaving the brute still rolling on the floor in pain. She knew that if he recovered when she was within reach he would kill her without hesitation.
Sandra ran blindly and entered another Manyatta. There was no man in site so she ran still stark naked into the arms of another Maasai man, who was standing outside his Manyatta with his spear still in his hand. She quickly grabbed the spear from the startled man and turned to wait for the brute. One of the women recovered quickly and brought her a sheet to cover her nakedness with. Without letting go of the spear she simply wrapped it around her waste, leaving her breasts still exposed to the elements. They were bobbing up and down as she breathed hard both in anger and from the adrenaline rush that had helped rescue her from rape.
She held the spear awkwardly with a notion at the back of her mind to plunge it into the brute’s groin. Suddenly he emerged from the Manyatta as if nothing had happened. Sandra remembered what Sirma had told her about the Maasai being taught how to ignore pain. But there was something else Sandra noticed almost immediately.
The man’s eyes were red, almost blood red and he was walking straight towards her. The spear was now shaking violently in Sandra’s hands.
In her mind she knew that the man now had a different intention-to kill her.
CONTINUED
----------------------------------------- Note from the author---------
If this was a printed novel and you carried to the local employment agency to wait in line for your name to be called and you ended up not hearing it and having to be nudged violently to come back to the real world...
If you missed your online college courses sessions because you were reading it...
If you stopped caring about renewing your auto insurance just to finish reading it...
If a Viagra lawyer talked to you at the park and you had no interest in im or what he was saying...
Only then would I say that I have succeeded.
Sirma had jokingly asked in the sign language they communicated with in those early days, what he was going to kill her with. To which she indicated to him she would use a gun. She could tell that got to him, because his smile froze rather suddenly. Maasai’s believed from their long history of contact with white people that every white person had extremely easy access to a gun.
Now Sandra was angry and she wished that she really had a gun in her hands right now. She would have pumped several bullets into this huge bull-like head. Surely she had not taken all the trouble she had to come to Africa to get Aids from this irrational brute who was doing his thinking with the wrong part of his anatomy. It would probably have made more sense to have contracted the damn disease from some junkie’s needle on the streets in some American city.
She now tried to use the only weapon a woman has in moments like this – her long nails. She took one or two violent swipes in the air near his oily face to show the brute that she was serious. He only smiled. She remembered in despair that Sirma had told her Maasai warriors were very good at ducking the claws of a lion. It was not so much the lion’s claws as the power behind them. One single swipe usually broke a gazelles’ neck. So what would it do to a man? So in learning how to hunt lion’s, avoiding the claws of a lion was one of the first hunting survival techniques that they would learn very early in life. She sensed that this brute would have no problems avoiding her long nails. She was right, suddenly he grabbed both her arms with a vice-like grip she knew she would never wriggle out of. In desperation she tried to get her nails in his eyes, but he only tightened his grip so much that she screamed in pain.
She hated to admit it to herself but it was now clear that there was very little that she was able to do to defend herself from this monster. And there were certainly no Ortho Evra Attorneys to look up to at that moment. At that very moment the almost unbearable smell of his sweat as he made an effort to force her down on the floor hit her. He was now using his huge legs to force her legs apart.
Sandra’s mind was still racing and she suddenly shifted one of her legs so that it was between the brute’s legs. Instinctively she knew she would have only one split second chance to do this and save herself from certain rape. With all the strength she would master she kicked hard towards the brute’s groin deliberately falling back so as to put as much force as possibly in her kick.
She was relieved when she heard the loud scream he uttered knowing that her kick had found its’ mark. He collapsed onto of her releasing her arms as his hands went to the source of his tremendous pain. Somehow the sheet had already fallen off her body and she was now stark naked, but she didn’t care. She wriggled from under him even as he rolled on the floor in pain and quickly run outside leaving the brute still rolling on the floor in pain. She knew that if he recovered when she was within reach he would kill her without hesitation.
Sandra ran blindly and entered another Manyatta. There was no man in site so she ran still stark naked into the arms of another Maasai man, who was standing outside his Manyatta with his spear still in his hand. She quickly grabbed the spear from the startled man and turned to wait for the brute. One of the women recovered quickly and brought her a sheet to cover her nakedness with. Without letting go of the spear she simply wrapped it around her waste, leaving her breasts still exposed to the elements. They were bobbing up and down as she breathed hard both in anger and from the adrenaline rush that had helped rescue her from rape.
She held the spear awkwardly with a notion at the back of her mind to plunge it into the brute’s groin. Suddenly he emerged from the Manyatta as if nothing had happened. Sandra remembered what Sirma had told her about the Maasai being taught how to ignore pain. But there was something else Sandra noticed almost immediately.
The man’s eyes were red, almost blood red and he was walking straight towards her. The spear was now shaking violently in Sandra’s hands.
In her mind she knew that the man now had a different intention-to kill her.
CONTINUED
----------------------------------------- Note from the author---------
If this was a printed novel and you carried to the local employment agency to wait in line for your name to be called and you ended up not hearing it and having to be nudged violently to come back to the real world...
If you missed your online college courses sessions because you were reading it...
If you stopped caring about renewing your auto insurance just to finish reading it...
If a Viagra lawyer talked to you at the park and you had no interest in im or what he was saying...
Only then would I say that I have succeeded.
Thursday, November 03, 2005
Makenzie’s cash problems
Charcoal-skin, the old man had been thinking very hard since seeing the open display of affection the white woman had displayed towards her Maasai man. Although he was disgusted at behavior in public that was best left to the dark bed-room according to him, his mind was engrossed in something else.
No, he was definitely not thinking of how un-African this open display of affection was, although it was true that according to him, a true African man and woman never showed their emotions in public, nor displayed openly what they did in privacy. It was taboo, very much against the customs of the tribe.
He was not even worrying about the impact the odd couple’s stay in the village would have on the children growing up in the area. Many were bound to be attracted to “the business,” as his young companion had referred to it, of pretending to be Maasai at Coastal tourist hotels so as to attract White women carrying dollars.
This entire great harm that was bound to befall the community was actually furthest from his mind as he contemplated on the one thing he was really interested in.
It was true that old man Makenzie’s (that was charcoal skin’s name) weakness was women. He was already married to three, including an 18 year old, and would not have minded a fourth wife. This white woman would have been perfect. In his life he had always desired a white woman.
He was well aware that she would not bear the current sleeping arrangements he had at his home, where he summoned the wife of the night, depending on his mood. He knew that white women were too proud and would never succumb to that kind of humiliating treatment.
But that was not what was really on Makenzie’s mind. The desires of his flesh and his fantasies could wait. He had a much more urgent issue at hand.
His mind went back to the conversation he had just had with his young companion. He through it again in his mind;
“I even know one Mkamba man. We went to school together. He does that business.” He remembered the young man telling him.
“Business?”
“Yes. The white women usually pay the Maasai warriors of course.”
“For what?”
“Why are you asking me a question whose answer you already know.”
“I honestly don’t know the answer. Please tell me.”
“You’re bluffing.”
“I honestly have no idea why a white woman would want to pay a Maasai man. To have his photograph taken?”
He remembered how the younger man had laughed so loudly that had he continued for another half a minute or so, he would have woken up the tribal ancestors from their graves.
“What is so funny?”
“They pay for sex.”
“Really? How much?”
“A lot of money. They pay in dollars, so it is a lot of money here.”
“Only for sex?”
“Yes, and in the case of our Maasai friend, the inconvenience of staying with an old white woman for the rest of your life.”
The conversation was still so vivid on Makenzie’s mind now as he went over it again and again, in the same way that people replay a scene from a movie that they liked, over and over.
What Makenzie needed very badly right now was money.
Yes he really needed some money. In all his 65 years of existence Makenzie had never been as desperate for cash as he was at the moment.
There was no way out. He would have to find a way of getting cash from that white woman. He knew she was American and Americans always carried dollars around with them. With a little luck he might just be able to steal $1,000 or more from her. He needed around that amount to solve all his most urgent problems. $1,000 or even $2,000 would really be something he fantasized.
Makenzie’s cash problems had started when the rains had failed a few months earlier. He had sunk all his money into planting corn (or maize, as they call it locally) being well aware that Corn prices were climbing and were bound to climb even higher by the time he harvested his crop. He had even borrowed against his pittance of an army pension and bought expansive fertilizer and paid workers to work his farms. He had been right about the prices. If only the rains had come, he would now be counting his profits from the 200 bags of maize that he was sure he would have harvested. He would have made a cool $2,500.
He had tried everything he knew how, to at least get something from the dry land. He and his 19 children had irrigated as much of the maize as they could with water from the streams. But it had not been enough and the 10 or so bags of corn that they had finally harvested were just enough to keep his big family from starvation.
But if truth be told, starvation was the least of his problems. They had survived failed rains before and they were going to survive this one. Actually his money problem was a little more complicated and a little more urgent than that.
Old man Makenzie remembered his error of judgement now with deep regret. He had not only borrowed money against his pension, he had also borrowed unsecured funds, or rather he had secured the loan with his life. He had borrowed from a well know loan-shark in the nearby Machakos town. The man was well known for reasons that Makenzie did not want to dwell on. In short none of his bad debts debtors ever lived to tell the story.
Only the previous day, the man had sent a message. It was short and to the point. The message said that he wanted his money with interest (totaling about $500) paid in the next 5 days. The message ended there. There were no threats of consequences o any suggestions as to what would happen if the deadline was not met. They were not necessary, everybody knew what happened to people who did not pay the man on time. Usually some nasty accident would befall them.
To Makenzie his only hope now was this new stranger in the Iveti hills. He would have to find a way to rob her. No hard feelings but it was either that or he would be dead in a few days. He was definitely not ready to die yet. He was sure that she had the money stacked somewhere in the hut where they lived with her Maasai warrior husband. His biggest problem was how to get the Maasai warrior out of the way. He was confident that without him, he was well able to take care of the situation, he would even kill the woman if necessary, nobody would ever suspect him.
He made his plans carefully, knowing full well that this robbery or theft would have to take place in the next two days. Time was not on his side.
CONTINUED
===============Words of Wisdom
How cautious can a business be and still end up on the receiving end of vioxx lawsuits? All of life is a risk so better to take calculated ones all the time.
All work and no play makes jack a dull boy. Take in a movie like Neil Young: Heart of Gold to relax.
Take a little time off even if it is from stock option trading.
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No, he was definitely not thinking of how un-African this open display of affection was, although it was true that according to him, a true African man and woman never showed their emotions in public, nor displayed openly what they did in privacy. It was taboo, very much against the customs of the tribe.
He was not even worrying about the impact the odd couple’s stay in the village would have on the children growing up in the area. Many were bound to be attracted to “the business,” as his young companion had referred to it, of pretending to be Maasai at Coastal tourist hotels so as to attract White women carrying dollars.
This entire great harm that was bound to befall the community was actually furthest from his mind as he contemplated on the one thing he was really interested in.
It was true that old man Makenzie’s (that was charcoal skin’s name) weakness was women. He was already married to three, including an 18 year old, and would not have minded a fourth wife. This white woman would have been perfect. In his life he had always desired a white woman.
He was well aware that she would not bear the current sleeping arrangements he had at his home, where he summoned the wife of the night, depending on his mood. He knew that white women were too proud and would never succumb to that kind of humiliating treatment.
But that was not what was really on Makenzie’s mind. The desires of his flesh and his fantasies could wait. He had a much more urgent issue at hand.
His mind went back to the conversation he had just had with his young companion. He through it again in his mind;
“I even know one Mkamba man. We went to school together. He does that business.” He remembered the young man telling him.
“Business?”
“Yes. The white women usually pay the Maasai warriors of course.”
“For what?”
“Why are you asking me a question whose answer you already know.”
“I honestly don’t know the answer. Please tell me.”
“You’re bluffing.”
“I honestly have no idea why a white woman would want to pay a Maasai man. To have his photograph taken?”
He remembered how the younger man had laughed so loudly that had he continued for another half a minute or so, he would have woken up the tribal ancestors from their graves.
“What is so funny?”
“They pay for sex.”
“Really? How much?”
“A lot of money. They pay in dollars, so it is a lot of money here.”
“Only for sex?”
“Yes, and in the case of our Maasai friend, the inconvenience of staying with an old white woman for the rest of your life.”
The conversation was still so vivid on Makenzie’s mind now as he went over it again and again, in the same way that people replay a scene from a movie that they liked, over and over.
What Makenzie needed very badly right now was money.
Yes he really needed some money. In all his 65 years of existence Makenzie had never been as desperate for cash as he was at the moment.
There was no way out. He would have to find a way of getting cash from that white woman. He knew she was American and Americans always carried dollars around with them. With a little luck he might just be able to steal $1,000 or more from her. He needed around that amount to solve all his most urgent problems. $1,000 or even $2,000 would really be something he fantasized.
Makenzie’s cash problems had started when the rains had failed a few months earlier. He had sunk all his money into planting corn (or maize, as they call it locally) being well aware that Corn prices were climbing and were bound to climb even higher by the time he harvested his crop. He had even borrowed against his pittance of an army pension and bought expansive fertilizer and paid workers to work his farms. He had been right about the prices. If only the rains had come, he would now be counting his profits from the 200 bags of maize that he was sure he would have harvested. He would have made a cool $2,500.
He had tried everything he knew how, to at least get something from the dry land. He and his 19 children had irrigated as much of the maize as they could with water from the streams. But it had not been enough and the 10 or so bags of corn that they had finally harvested were just enough to keep his big family from starvation.
But if truth be told, starvation was the least of his problems. They had survived failed rains before and they were going to survive this one. Actually his money problem was a little more complicated and a little more urgent than that.
Old man Makenzie remembered his error of judgement now with deep regret. He had not only borrowed money against his pension, he had also borrowed unsecured funds, or rather he had secured the loan with his life. He had borrowed from a well know loan-shark in the nearby Machakos town. The man was well known for reasons that Makenzie did not want to dwell on. In short none of his bad debts debtors ever lived to tell the story.
Only the previous day, the man had sent a message. It was short and to the point. The message said that he wanted his money with interest (totaling about $500) paid in the next 5 days. The message ended there. There were no threats of consequences o any suggestions as to what would happen if the deadline was not met. They were not necessary, everybody knew what happened to people who did not pay the man on time. Usually some nasty accident would befall them.
To Makenzie his only hope now was this new stranger in the Iveti hills. He would have to find a way to rob her. No hard feelings but it was either that or he would be dead in a few days. He was definitely not ready to die yet. He was sure that she had the money stacked somewhere in the hut where they lived with her Maasai warrior husband. His biggest problem was how to get the Maasai warrior out of the way. He was confident that without him, he was well able to take care of the situation, he would even kill the woman if necessary, nobody would ever suspect him.
He made his plans carefully, knowing full well that this robbery or theft would have to take place in the next two days. Time was not on his side.
CONTINUED
===============Words of Wisdom
How cautious can a business be and still end up on the receiving end of vioxx lawsuits? All of life is a risk so better to take calculated ones all the time.
All work and no play makes jack a dull boy. Take in a movie like Neil Young: Heart of Gold to relax.
Take a little time off even if it is from stock option trading.
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Wednesday, November 02, 2005
A bizarre tribal custom
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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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==========================
Quick Tips on business, life, human nature...
Valentine's day flowers or valentine's day gift baskets can be a great business secret weapon. A sort of gimick campaign to show how much you love your customers.
Search Engine Optimization has changed and there's a lot more emphasis on one way links and the anchor text matters like crazy.
A lesson in human nature: Diamond engagement rings are special, offer one to a woman and she will carry the memory to her grave... even if she doesn't marry you.
Violent Shudder
“I tell you he’s running away from something, coming to live here, so far away from his own people.” The charcoal-dark skinned man spoke in his vernacular Kamba native language looking thoughtfully down the scenic valley several hundred feet below where he sat. He was seated on a three-legged stool that he usually carried around with him everywhere he went.
“I don’t agree with you. Maasai warriors have a reputation. They are scared of nothing. They never ran.” The much younger, much-lighter skinned African companion to the older man had a stick in his hand and stood, keeping a close eye on his half a dozen cows grazing lazily in the thicket just behind where the two men stood.
“But there is always an exception to the rule.”
“No exception with Maasais. Since the days of our forefathers many generations ago, when they would come here in the hills to steal our cows. Sometimes we would fight them off with our bow and arrows and our people would kill some Maasai warriors who were obviously cowards."
“How do you know that? You were not around. If my memory serves me right, you were just born the other day.”
“My father tells me stories. But neither were you around yourself, old man.”
“What else does your father tell you?” Charcoal-skin would occasionally stroke his chin where a few white stubs stuck out like white ants on a dark coal-black hillside.
“That the Maasai preferred to steal cows from other tribes rather than try to get our cows, because our people were always so fierce with their deadly poisoned arrows.”
“Their cows,” charcoal-skin corrected.
“What do you mean their cows? The cows were ours.”
“Maasai’s believe that all cows on earth belong to them. Through the centuries they have always believed that. So when they steal, they believe that they are simply recovering what their forefathers lost to other tribes during raids in the past.”
“Yeah, yeah. It still doesn’t change the fact that the Maasai warrior is scared of nothing.”
“My friend you are young and you have not seen enough in this life. There are always exceptions, that is a rule of life.”
“And I insist that with Maasai’s they never run away. Nothing scares a real Maasai. Unless you'r’ talking about a fake Maasai.”
“You’re wrong.”
“I am right. They are not even scared of death itself.”
“Can I prove to you that even this Maasai warrior that you say is not running away, is different?”
“Yes, please.”
“Look at his wife.”
“You mean his companion?”
“Yes, his woman.”
“What about her?”
“What do you mean, ‘what about her?’ You have eyes don’t you?”
“Yeah. She’s white. So what?”
“What do you mean, ‘so what?’ Is every Maasai married to a white woman?”
“Ok this is an exception.”
“Finally you admit.”
“But it still means nothing. There are so many Maasai’s with White women as their girl friends, still doesn’t make them cowards”
“Who told you that?”
“I’m not the young fool that you think I am. So many white women want Maasai husbands that many people from other tribes quite often pretend to be Maasai’s at those holidy resorts for tourists at the Coast these days.”
“You know too much for a person your age.”
“I even know one Mkamba man. We went to school together. He does that business.”
“Business?”
“Yes. The white women usually pay the Maasai warriors of course.”
“For what?”
The younger man grazing the cows did not answer. Instead he burst into laughter revealing his perfect brownish front teeth and generous gums which dominated his mouth.
“What are they paid for?” Charcoal-skin insisted.
“Why are you asking me a question whose answer you already know.”
“I honestly don’t know the answer. Please tell me.”
“You’re bluffing.”
“I honestly have no idea why a white woman would want to pay a Maasai man. To have his photograph taken?”
The younger man laughed again. This time more loudly, revealing more teeth.
“What is so funny?”
“They pay for sex.”
“Really? How much?”
“A lot of money. They pay in dollars, so it is a lot of money here.”
“Only for sex?”
“Yes, and in the case of our Maasai friend, the inconvenience of staying with an old white woman for the rest of your life.”
“That white woman is not old.”
“Her skin is wrinkled.”
“That is how white women are. Tose are not wrinkles. She was a little overweight, that’s all.”
“She’s still overweight.”
“I don’t agree. I think she’s very pretty,”
“You sound interested.”
“She would make a good fourth wife for me.”
“You would have to deal with the Maasai first.”
“No problem, my great grandfather killed many Maasai warriors in his lifetime. I carry the same blood and the same anointing.”
“You can actually kill for a woman?”
“You are a young man. You think you know a lot but actually you know nothing.”
“You can actually kill, for a white woman?”
“Why not?”
“It is against the law. You’ll get arrested.”
“Yeah if I am stupid enough to do it with witnesses around.”
“You sound very serious.”
“I am.”
“So how will you get him alone? He’s always with his white woman. They even go to the market together.”
“But they don’t go to the toilet together.”
“So you’ll kill him in the toilet, outside?”
“Yeah.”
“For the white woman?”
“Why not?”
“And what makes you think the white woman will fall in love with you after the death of her Maasai?”
“You know my third wife?”
“Yes.”
“Is she young and pretty?”
“Yes. So what?”
“I’ll win the white woman’s love in the same way that I won my wife’s love.”
“That young girl married you for your money.”
“I am rich, am I?”
“You tricked her into thinking you were.”
“It is called perception. To get any woman in the world, all you need is to portray the right image to win her.”
“What sort of image would you need to win this white woman belonging to the Maasai?”
“That’s my secret.”
“You seem to have some experience with white women.”
“Don’t be sarcastic with me young man. As a matter of fact I do.”
“Now you’re pulling my leg.”
“You know I was a tailor in the army.”
“You went to Britain?”
“No, Burma.”
“Those are Asian women.”
“They’re white aren’t they?”
It always seems to happen when you are talking about somebody. They suddenly appear out of nowhere. It was still early morning, too early for the odd couple to be seen making their way to the market. But without any warning, they suddenly appeared on the foot path a short distant from where the two men were having their argument about them.
The Maasai warrior walked majestically with his head held high as always. His spear was in one hand and with the other he held on to the white hand of his woman. Her white skin looked oddly white, in fact too white, wrapped around the huge dark muscular hands of the Maasai warrior.
Everything about the white woman seemed round, almost perfect circles. From the shape of her face to the shape of her body which on this day was covered by a green and gray flowery trouser suit that matched well with her almost-gray cold-looking, calculating-looking pupils, but was a little too tight for her. On her rotund ears, she wore ring-shaped multi-colored, decorated Maasai traditional earrings.
Despite the Maasai earrings, her looks looked better suited to some board room or office of a Fortune 500 company somewhere in the States. Or to some old respectable 200 year-old European company, rather than on the side of this half-naked savage warrior in traditional regalia deep in the bush somewhere in the heart of Africa. Her board-room looks contrasted sharply with the environment and the man whose hand she now clutched tightly and added to the bizarre nature of this unlikely couple.
Suddenly the Maasai warrior cleared his throat noisily and spat some thick heavily-loaded phlegm into the bush on his side.
“Sirma,” the woman’s sharp voice rang out, “I told you never to do that again.”
Sirma was much taller than his woman. He just smiled and looked down at her. Suddenly you could sense the electricity between the two. He leaned forward and hugged her. As the two men watched, fascinated, they could see the violent shiver that went through the white woman’s body as her hands quickly reached round her man’s neck. It was the kind of shudder that could only go through a woman’s body. And the kind of shudder that meant only one thing in whatever culture or tribe of the world you belonged to.
"You naughty boy," she whimpered.
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“I don’t agree with you. Maasai warriors have a reputation. They are scared of nothing. They never ran.” The much younger, much-lighter skinned African companion to the older man had a stick in his hand and stood, keeping a close eye on his half a dozen cows grazing lazily in the thicket just behind where the two men stood.
“But there is always an exception to the rule.”
“No exception with Maasais. Since the days of our forefathers many generations ago, when they would come here in the hills to steal our cows. Sometimes we would fight them off with our bow and arrows and our people would kill some Maasai warriors who were obviously cowards."
“How do you know that? You were not around. If my memory serves me right, you were just born the other day.”
“My father tells me stories. But neither were you around yourself, old man.”
“What else does your father tell you?” Charcoal-skin would occasionally stroke his chin where a few white stubs stuck out like white ants on a dark coal-black hillside.
“That the Maasai preferred to steal cows from other tribes rather than try to get our cows, because our people were always so fierce with their deadly poisoned arrows.”
“Their cows,” charcoal-skin corrected.
“What do you mean their cows? The cows were ours.”
“Maasai’s believe that all cows on earth belong to them. Through the centuries they have always believed that. So when they steal, they believe that they are simply recovering what their forefathers lost to other tribes during raids in the past.”
“Yeah, yeah. It still doesn’t change the fact that the Maasai warrior is scared of nothing.”
“My friend you are young and you have not seen enough in this life. There are always exceptions, that is a rule of life.”
“And I insist that with Maasai’s they never run away. Nothing scares a real Maasai. Unless you'r’ talking about a fake Maasai.”
“You’re wrong.”
“I am right. They are not even scared of death itself.”
“Can I prove to you that even this Maasai warrior that you say is not running away, is different?”
“Yes, please.”
“Look at his wife.”
“You mean his companion?”
“Yes, his woman.”
“What about her?”
“What do you mean, ‘what about her?’ You have eyes don’t you?”
“Yeah. She’s white. So what?”
“What do you mean, ‘so what?’ Is every Maasai married to a white woman?”
“Ok this is an exception.”
“Finally you admit.”
“But it still means nothing. There are so many Maasai’s with White women as their girl friends, still doesn’t make them cowards”
“Who told you that?”
“I’m not the young fool that you think I am. So many white women want Maasai husbands that many people from other tribes quite often pretend to be Maasai’s at those holidy resorts for tourists at the Coast these days.”
“You know too much for a person your age.”
“I even know one Mkamba man. We went to school together. He does that business.”
“Business?”
“Yes. The white women usually pay the Maasai warriors of course.”
“For what?”
The younger man grazing the cows did not answer. Instead he burst into laughter revealing his perfect brownish front teeth and generous gums which dominated his mouth.
“What are they paid for?” Charcoal-skin insisted.
“Why are you asking me a question whose answer you already know.”
“I honestly don’t know the answer. Please tell me.”
“You’re bluffing.”
“I honestly have no idea why a white woman would want to pay a Maasai man. To have his photograph taken?”
The younger man laughed again. This time more loudly, revealing more teeth.
“What is so funny?”
“They pay for sex.”
“Really? How much?”
“A lot of money. They pay in dollars, so it is a lot of money here.”
“Only for sex?”
“Yes, and in the case of our Maasai friend, the inconvenience of staying with an old white woman for the rest of your life.”
“That white woman is not old.”
“Her skin is wrinkled.”
“That is how white women are. Tose are not wrinkles. She was a little overweight, that’s all.”
“She’s still overweight.”
“I don’t agree. I think she’s very pretty,”
“You sound interested.”
“She would make a good fourth wife for me.”
“You would have to deal with the Maasai first.”
“No problem, my great grandfather killed many Maasai warriors in his lifetime. I carry the same blood and the same anointing.”
“You can actually kill for a woman?”
“You are a young man. You think you know a lot but actually you know nothing.”
“You can actually kill, for a white woman?”
“Why not?”
“It is against the law. You’ll get arrested.”
“Yeah if I am stupid enough to do it with witnesses around.”
“You sound very serious.”
“I am.”
“So how will you get him alone? He’s always with his white woman. They even go to the market together.”
“But they don’t go to the toilet together.”
“So you’ll kill him in the toilet, outside?”
“Yeah.”
“For the white woman?”
“Why not?”
“And what makes you think the white woman will fall in love with you after the death of her Maasai?”
“You know my third wife?”
“Yes.”
“Is she young and pretty?”
“Yes. So what?”
“I’ll win the white woman’s love in the same way that I won my wife’s love.”
“That young girl married you for your money.”
“I am rich, am I?”
“You tricked her into thinking you were.”
“It is called perception. To get any woman in the world, all you need is to portray the right image to win her.”
“What sort of image would you need to win this white woman belonging to the Maasai?”
“That’s my secret.”
“You seem to have some experience with white women.”
“Don’t be sarcastic with me young man. As a matter of fact I do.”
“Now you’re pulling my leg.”
“You know I was a tailor in the army.”
“You went to Britain?”
“No, Burma.”
“Those are Asian women.”
“They’re white aren’t they?”
It always seems to happen when you are talking about somebody. They suddenly appear out of nowhere. It was still early morning, too early for the odd couple to be seen making their way to the market. But without any warning, they suddenly appeared on the foot path a short distant from where the two men were having their argument about them.
The Maasai warrior walked majestically with his head held high as always. His spear was in one hand and with the other he held on to the white hand of his woman. Her white skin looked oddly white, in fact too white, wrapped around the huge dark muscular hands of the Maasai warrior.
Everything about the white woman seemed round, almost perfect circles. From the shape of her face to the shape of her body which on this day was covered by a green and gray flowery trouser suit that matched well with her almost-gray cold-looking, calculating-looking pupils, but was a little too tight for her. On her rotund ears, she wore ring-shaped multi-colored, decorated Maasai traditional earrings.
Despite the Maasai earrings, her looks looked better suited to some board room or office of a Fortune 500 company somewhere in the States. Or to some old respectable 200 year-old European company, rather than on the side of this half-naked savage warrior in traditional regalia deep in the bush somewhere in the heart of Africa. Her board-room looks contrasted sharply with the environment and the man whose hand she now clutched tightly and added to the bizarre nature of this unlikely couple.
Suddenly the Maasai warrior cleared his throat noisily and spat some thick heavily-loaded phlegm into the bush on his side.
“Sirma,” the woman’s sharp voice rang out, “I told you never to do that again.”
Sirma was much taller than his woman. He just smiled and looked down at her. Suddenly you could sense the electricity between the two. He leaned forward and hugged her. As the two men watched, fascinated, they could see the violent shiver that went through the white woman’s body as her hands quickly reached round her man’s neck. It was the kind of shudder that could only go through a woman’s body. And the kind of shudder that meant only one thing in whatever culture or tribe of the world you belonged to.
"You naughty boy," she whimpered.
================
Gift baskets make excellent gifts for virtually any occasion that you would care to think about. Gift baskets by Gourmet Gift baskets are more than just an ordinary gift. Many people consider them to be works of art. This is because the finest gourmet food gift basket components are used to craft these amazing gift baskets that make an ideal and unforgettable gift.
================
Orlando welcomes more visitors annually than the entire population of California, that is 43.3 million souls according to 2000 statistics. It really is a very memorable place to go fro a holiday, especially if you stay at a Orlando Vacation Home.
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