The small tracks meander in between the acacia shrubs and into the small village of NaKoon. Our driver, who has traversed the expanse of Kenya’s north, manoeuvres the van around the shrubs, careful not to scratch the paint off the vehicle.
He was born and grew up here, deep in Samburu country. Having herded goats around Sera Conservancy, there was no better person to take us through this village for a sneak peek into the local way of life than him.
We got to the village just as the sun was setting. And what beautiful hues the sun cast over the western skies! The setting sun stirred a flurry of activities here.
Young men herded the livestock back to the boma as women waited with metallic cups to milk the goats.
I tried my hand in the milking exercise but failed miserably. At some point, the goats ran off whenever I closed in on them, fearful that I would subject them to a painful ordeal.
“Milking goats is a happy time for the Samburu. Goats mean everything to us,” says Biko Lepartingat, a local guide at Saruni Rhino, a small eco-lodge by a seasonal river not far from the village. Goats, Biko tells us, are a form of currency that come in handy when a young man wants to marry.
“A young man needs 30 to 50 goats and 12 cows to pay dowry. The more livestock you have, the better the chances of getting a wife.” Sounds universal, right?
I have had several forays in Samburu over the years, forging lasting friendships with the locals, especially the morans. These young men exemplify what the people here are all about: colour.
The Samburu are known as the ‘butterfly people’ due to their paraphernalia — bright headgear complete with ostrich feathers for young men and multi-coloured beads for the ladies. Their rich traditions would not be complete without singing on happy occasions such as the safe return from distant grazing fields, traditional weddings or initiation ceremonies.
They sing when fetching water for their livestock, giving rise to the ‘singing wells’ spectacle. It is in those singing episodes where a lady chooses a young man to dance with and perhaps date. It is a culture that has survived the onslaught of Western influence for eons.
A day after the goat-milking sessions, my friend, Wilson, takes me to Kalama on the other side of Samburu overlooking Mount Ololokwe. I am here for a night of star-gazing, a popular activity in Kalama and neighbouring conservancies. We sit by a bonfire with a drink as 29-year-old Ian Lekilasai points his laser to the visible part of the Milky Way galaxy. This, as your geography teacher told you, is our home galaxy. The Samburu refer to the stars in this galaxy as ‘God’s livestock’.
He then moves the pointer to the four stars of Crux, sweeps across to Orion, the hunter. According to Ian and Biko, the Basecamp Samburu manager, the interest in the sky is no exercise in futility. “You can find answers to life’s questions in the sky,” they tell me as the embers of the evening fire begin to die. “The life of our people is tied to the movement of the stars. If these stars limit their brightness, prepare for a drought.”
Both men act like local seers in guiding guests in astro-tourism, a concept gaining traction in northern Kenya. The fact that Samburu lies near the equator and with light pollution being almost non-existent means stargazers can watch most of the stars in both hemispheres with ease.
With the fire dying but the warmth still radiating, I ask Ian why he became interested in the sky. “I spent a night on top of Mount Oloinkwe, a sacred mountain to the Samburu,” he says.
“I was literally sleeping under the stars for a whole night. Thereafter, I sought out more knowledge about the night sky from my grandfather. He taught me all I know about the stars.”
The men had a surprise. To experience the night’s sky in all its splendour, I was going to spend the night in a bed under the sky. “Is this a joke?” I asked them. No, they were serious.
In a few minutes, I was led to a star bed, out in the open on a wooden platform where no more than a mosquito net separated me from trumpeting elephants and other night creatures.
I howled camped in the open before, but always inside the safety of a tent. Never have I listened to every sound or even the faint rattling of a leaf, as I did on this night.
Yet, nothing can ever be compared to the experience of watching the night sky go by than by doing so with little obstruction. Interestingly, my biggest fight was warding off sleep as I watched the stars, planets, galaxies and constellations make their moves across the night sky. I will never get tired of the wonders of Samburu.