Preparing the Manyatta

I sometimes marvel that six months have passed since we traveled to Kenya. Part of the marvel has to do with the strange way time has of moving on whether we want it to or not, but the largest part has to do with how present the memories still seem to be. I look forward to Claudia's thoughtful blog each Sunday morning which never fails to remind me of some aspect of our trip. As I put together a large box of materials this morning to display at this week's ESHA Annual Dinner, I realized that, if all goes well, the next big event could be/will be Steven's visit to Washington.

Already, thanks to Claudia's leadership, a small group of people are beginning the process of planning his school visits. I feel confident that we will present, in varying formats, both a beautiful and powerful narrative of the life of the Samburu people. I understand that many good and talented folks would become intimidated by the prospect of planning what will essentially amount to a week long intensive Samburu workshop at different locations. As an educator and school leader, with good support, this planning feels like business as usual. My thoughts, however, keep turning more frequently to my role as Steven's hostess and friend. I have to prepare my manyatta!

Hopefully, in less than two months, Steven will come with his clear professional purpose of raising awareness and seeking on-going support for education in the Laisaimis region of northern Kenya. But, as I well know from our own travels, this may turn out to be the easy part. Steven has been traveling to northern Europe, specifically Sweden and The Netherlands, for several years with this same agenda. He knows how to make formal school presentations. This trip to Washington, however, will be his first trip to the States and, apart from the four of us who traveled to him, a handful of missionaries from his schools, and some interest in President Obama (hugely popular in Kenya for obvious reasons), he has had little exposure to real Americans.

When I think of this, suddenly, I have a brief spasm of mild hostess panic which I can't ignore. We live in an area of fairly great wealth and privilege, particularly by Kenyan standards, and there is just no getting around that. Compounding my concern about the clear difference in resources is my worry that, even if this inequity did not exist, I am not sure I will be as gracious a hostess as Steven was a host. For countless miles and in different types of scenarios, Steven patiently explained Samburu culture, taught us some useful Swahili and Maa phrases, drove for hours, engaged in stimulating conversations about politics and education and saw to it that we ate and slept well. So, now my thoughts turn to how we make our life here seem inviting while not intimidating, pleasing without being overwhelming, and generally positive. I am filled with so much excitement that I am mostly thankful that I have time to wrap my brain around the magnitude of it all.

Laurel


(Photo: Claudia Daggett)