Homoeopathy in the Massai Villages

Yesterday was such a day – it is 5 a.m. and I haven’t slept for over an hour, so decided it would be better to get some of my thoughts down. I will put up photos & links to photos over the weekend.

On Wednesday I drove one of the cars down to Arusha – dark glasses and my head straight forward to avoid eye contact with the half dozen police stops. We unpacked at the convent then Lorraine and I ran a clinic in the local parish rooms here; I think we saw about 15 people, but it was less traumatic than Tuesday. Perhaps we are getting used to trusting that doing our best is enough.

Then yesterday, after a night of rain, we all went to the Massai villages. The temperature was pleasant, but the road was a mud bath and at one point we had to get out and gently push the car to stop it sliding from side to side. And then we saw it... the Great Rift Valley. I cannot describe it, the photos will not do it justice, it was marvellous. So we got out of the car and marvelled. A broad plain with great fissures and hills and mountains around. Massive.

All over the hillsides were huts in groups then areas of cultivation and mud tracks with people driving goats, donkeys or cows. And the smell was wonderful (I love farms). After the rain this place seemed incredibly fertile & green.

When we got to the first village, one group went up to some huts and Lorraine & I went to some others. Hiking in flip flops with an overweight laptop on my back – it seemed odd. We got to a small mud compound with round mud huts topped with thatched roofs. Small stools were brought out and we sat and opened up our laptops – this was now slightly surreal. However we found that the light meant that we could hardly see our screens (on power-save) so we tried sitting with our all-purpose cloths (for keeping warm/ sitting on/ whatever else) over our heads like a tent. As I heard Lorraine lament that she still couldn’t find her cursor, the absurdity of the situation hit me and it was all I could do not to laugh; the two of us huddled over laptops covered in bright cloth tents. Fortunately the people are extremely accepting and they showed no concern at this, though we soon realised that to take a case we would have to come out, so just worked as best we could in the sun.

The first child was a girl of 14, with the body of a 5 year old and a head barely bigger than a baby’s – it has been shrinking. Some remedies had helped with dribbling and mucous – we did our best. Later on we saw Danny, and he will remain a star in my day. A year ago, age 3, he could not walk and was shuffling around on his bottom. After remedies he can now walk and ran to greet us giggling and smiling – he loves sister Lavina who was accompanying us to translate Massai. Here the children offer you their heads, as to greet a child you place your hand on their head, Danny hurtled towards us offering us his hot little head before racing indoors to drag out small stools for us to sit on. It seems that he still cannot talk, so again we did our best.

After a few more we drove up to a small church and saw a number of patients, while the others dealt with other clinics. We finished early this time, so were invited down to the main area where huts surrounded a water hole, and were taken into a house where we were given hot sweet tea & chapattis. Hugely appreciated as we realised that yet again we had forgotten lunch. The house was breeze block, with a mud floor and raw meat hanging in one corner and a gauze-doored cupboard with some food in. A couple of wooden tables were used for food preparation, whilst two benches lined the wall; these we sat on. Some men came in for tea, or to see us, I’m not sure – Mazungis (whites) are not seen here often. We left a contribution then went up the hill again to wait, where we watched the numerous children carrying plastic containers for fresh water or herding goats or cows. Most were curious, some greeted us or replied to our greeting, but many just stared in wonder. It was a wonderful place.