Saturday, and it is to be a full day for these busy bees. We woke to steady rain, and doubts expressed about our trip to the Maasai markets at Monduli, followed by a visit to a Maasai Boma or camp near the village of Doka Bomu.

For this trip, our guide was Felix, a worker here at the school, and a member of the Maasai tribe.  There were nine of us on this excursion, the others being away on safari for the weekend. Again, we made ourselves comfortable in one of the school buses, with lunches and plenty of water, and headed in a generally southern direction. The road was being upgraded for much of the way, which meant frequent detours on side roads made very slippery and muddy. Being a smaller group seemed to encourage more relaxed conversation. Our first stop was at a craft and art shop, mainly for the benefit of a pee, as it would be quite some time before we had the use of any sort of civilised facility. The shop was quite large and stocked with some exquisite carvings and paintings. The carvings in particular were quite impressive, especially the over-sized ones of the Maasai tribesmen which held nothing back in the portrayal of the male body. At $US9,000 it was a bit out of reach, though it would have made a startling reception for visitors to 5/5 Foxton Crescent. Generally the goods were a bit pricey so we refrained from the usual dip into our wallets.

We left the main highway, and the road was very good for some distance, at least until we reached a military base of some sort, after which it deteriorated somewhat. The rain was becoming quite heavy, and the market plan was becoming more of a hope than a plan. As the road climbed steadily from the valley floor it became just about a single vehicle width, though as you would understand by now, single width is just a theory.

After several kilometres, our progress was stopped by a small van bogged ahead of us. The load of passengers all leapt out and the women scurried for higher ground and the men tried valiantly, but helplessly, to progress the car from the bog. The poor driver did not seem to have much clue about how to retrieve the situation, with his front wheels on full lock making it just about impossible to go forward, or back. Eventually, with some luck and some branches placed under the wheels, the car lurched from the restraining mud and we were able to continue. The extra weight and prayers of the school bus seemed to help and we got through with a bit of sideways slipping. The episode of the car reminded me of the times in my childhood, when my father, during the odd times when in rained at Leeton, would take our tractor out to muddy up a patch of road to catch unwary drivers who became bogged. For a couple of quid he was very happy to tow them out!

Finally we reached the market, which was disappointingly empty of marketers. The ground was saturated, as the rain continued to fall quite heavily. However, the one task that we had come to the market for, that just had to be completed, was the purchase of a goat as a gift to the Maasai chief. This was a job for Felix, who with a borrowed jacket and umbrella made his way precariously across the muddy field to where the herder was selling his animals. We, of course remained in the relative comfort of the bus.

Eventually we spied Felix emerging from the mist with a goat in tow. A better description would be that the goat emerged from the mist, with Felix desperately trying to maintain his footing as the goat seemed to have no intention of being boarded on to the bus. Eventually everyone is on the bus, including a wet and bedraggled young goat, now tethered to one of the seats.

,As we make our way down the mountain, I am a little concerned about the pace of the drive as the driver chatted amiably to Felix in Swahili. And I would have preferred that he used a low gear as we negotiated the slippery road. However, there is full credit to him and we admire his skill and judgement as he brought us safely down to the valley. We had another stop at the craft shop, and this time, Jen is captivated by some prints and we make a purchase. We are also becoming aware that we have another nine weeks before we get home and need to be cautious about adding to the volume of our luggage.

Next stop us to be the Maasai Boma, but with the mud and rain, continuing much further in the bus is impossible and we have to walk. It was only a couple of kilometres, but the track was also partly a waterway. After a couple of hundred metres we were assailed by a swarm of young children – mostly very young, aged about 3 or 4 and up to about 13 or so. It was quite a sight as about thirty children came running through the mud with eyes alight with anticipation and their flashing smiles lighting the gloomy day. Every child wanted a hand to hold, and so we trekked the rest of the way with children holding tight as we leapt puddles and tried to keep to the least muddy paths.

I had two little boys who wanted my sole attention. One, about three years of age marched along with his tiny hand firmly grasping my finger while his other hand carried a stick. Jenny had two little girls as guides though the mud.

Finally we came to a clearing, the Boma, to be greeted by the chief, Paulo and his three wives. The Boma consisted of a round compound, with a thorny fence to keep the cows safe, and several round thatched buildings for accommodation and cooking.

Paulo was very proud of his wives and family, though we understand his family is quite small by some measures. Still, he looked reasonably young, so has plenty of scope to add to his wives and ten children. We had a goat handing over ceremony where Dr Bob, was made an honorary chief. Both Bob and Paulo had little speeches, but Bob tested the moment when he explained the Australian custom of clapping and while demonstrating, the goat realised his chance for liberty and made a bolt for the bush. Paulo snapped a command and a couple of urchins, for whom goat herding is part part of their daily routine, raced after the ungrateful goat and in no time brought him back for the remainder of the ceremony.

The children were very keen to show us their homes, we were ushered in to the little bedrooms. And they just loved having their photo taken. “Camera, camera” they would implore and then swarm in to see the results.

As we finished our time at the Boma and bid our farewells, the children marched beside us, seeing us off with a song. It was all very moving. It was really interesting to see the Maasai people still living in their traditional ways, still reasonably close to a major city and with very little of the modern world to be seen. The one unavoidable nod to the twenty first century is the mobile phone, which is ubiquitous. Amazingly, mobile reception is available just about anywhere, and it embarrasses the sort of coverage available in Australia.

With a shortish stop at the Shoprite for some stores we are on the way home. Yes, Shoprite, just like the stores in Canberra, with the same colour scheme of red and yellow. A nearby fabric store has some Maasai fabrics and we bought some Maasai blankets.

Finally we get home, and have time for refresher at the Water Hole. To my amazement Jen buys herself a beer, and consumes nine tenths of it. It must have been a dry day! After a very tasty spaghetti boll, those of us who are up for  it gather at the kitchen table for one of the board games that someone has left here. This time it was Squatter, which with a massive turn of fortune late in the game, I managed to win. Unfortunately the late finish and the game has delayed the penning of the blog.

Better late than never as someone says. At least it is not raining!