Bomestay Day One

The way one feels before a homestay no matter what country one is in, is unanimous regardless of how many homestays one has done. Whether i am walking or diving to my homestay, I am always filled with a mixture of uneasiness, excitement, anxiety, and occassionally a wish that it will be over soon. When in a group setting before a homestay, I have noticed that everyone is very quiet, although the quietness is often broken by awkward giggles. Feelings of anxiety are shared by all! I believe this is because we cannot imagine what an experience will be like, it is very hard for us to process it. Our inability to process what is going to happen causes us to feel uneasy and in some cases uncomfortable.
For the two days leading up to the Maasai homestay I was very nervous. No less nervous than I was before my Nairobi homestay or Tumbe homestay, but nervous nevertheless. Even though this is my third homestay in East Africa and my 7th in my life, I am still nervous before every one. I can say however that I was the most excited for the Maasai homestay. I have been intrigued by their culture for many years and the fact that I get/have the oppurtunity to live wtih them still amazes me.
After a long anxious day of wating for word that we were heading to our homestays, Timoti the coordinator, arrived on motorbike and told us to grab our bags. I grabbed my north face day pack which was filled with; a warm beanie for my newly shaven head, two water bottles, cold medicine for my new convenient cold, warm socks, sleeping bag, a toothbrush and toothpaste, and lastly sunscreen and headed on the path. When we all were ready some local men handed us each a walking stick and we headed off to the appointed area where our homestay mothers were supposed to meet us. As we walked along the road everyone was silent, far more quiet than I have been accustomed to us being these past few months. After less than ten minutes a line of women wearing brightly colored clothing could be spotted in the distance. As we neared them we all began to giggle, ironically our giggles were echoed by those of our soon to be hosts. They too attempted to break the anxiousness we all felt by laughing. As we neared them we formed a line directly in front of them and they came to shake our hands saying Supa (hello), response Ipa. This interaction was of the same formula as the good game handshakes that culminate most sports games.
Before I knew it I had shook the hand of the last woman in line and soon another women was grabbing my hand and stick, pulling me forward. She was to be the host-mom for the next three nights. The same process occured with everyone and soon we were all walking off in twos in the direction of our perspective bomas. On the walk there the Maasai women looked us up in down, giggling, and saying things we could not understand to one another. At the begginning we all seemed to be going in the same direction, but soon we all split off, two students going to bomas relatively close to one another.
Soon I arrived at a compound boundaried off by large acacia branches. My host-mom led me through the main gate and into our bomba. The boma I am living in does not resemble those I have seen depicted in books, or in my class readings. It is a rectangular structure, instead of a circular one, and is made of cow dung plastered onto branches used for support. Its roof is flat with dirt on top. There are even sprouts of grass on top of it giving it a hobbit like essence.
As I entered the house I took a right and soon was in the open chamber area. Inside this area there are three sleeping areas, a small fire pit, and a shelf where pots, gourds, and salt is stored. This chamber area is sectioned off from the area where the cows are kept by small twigs placed close together. Inside the Boma there is also an area where the calves are kept. The inside of the boma is quite dark, and when the fire is lit, smokey. My first hours inside the boma resembled the first hours of inside the bomba resembled the first hours of all homestays, awkward smiles, giggles, and enthusiastic attempts to communicate. Luckily we had translators who came around to aid us in communicating with our families. This made things a lot easier and way more practical. Without the translators we wouldn't have been able to communicate at all. Most Maasai adults do not know Kiswahili, and all do not English. With Kiswahili as our lengua franca I am forced to practice, rack my bran of all the words I know. Sadly they sum up to around 35 words making my interactions with people very amusing.
After drinking an entire cup of tea with fresh milk my bladder began to call. I asked the translator where the restroom was. She resonded that there wasn't one, and that I should go behind the house. Conveniently my bladder called at the same time as my host-dad and brother were returning with the cows. So instead of peacefully being behind the house, I was forced to hide behind two bulls, and pray that no one moved them. When i finished and walked around them a crowd of young kids stood starring at me with looks of amusement, obviously knowing what had just taken place. This little account of my first bathroom experience , I hope gives you all insight into what life in a Maasai boma has been like this first day.