We set out early for a Masaai village. We had heard that once we left the main road the going would be even rougher than our trek through the mountains, albeit a lot shorter. That was an understatement.
We waited alongside the main road in our landrovers for a while for the evangelist of the church to show up and lead us the rest of the way. Because of all the rain, a good majority of roads were impassible. Pastor Haffermann was quite uncomfortable just sitting there in our cars because the local villagers are hostile to the Seminary folks because they are on the brink of war with the local Masaai. The Masaai are a herding people and live completely off of the income they make from selling their cattle, goats, and sometimes sheep. The grazing land in this area is especially rich, which also means the soil is especially rich. The villagers make their income through farming, and they have broken the soil on Masaai lands to plant their corn. The seminary folk have helped the Masaai take these villagers to court to reclaim the land that is in fact legally theirs, and it looks like they are going to win.
Our evangelist eventually came and he started us down a road that was actually a foot path between 10-foot tall rows of corn. The road was completely covered with water fairly often and the ruts were ginormous. Every once in a while we would come to a complete stop and then the good pastor would floor it and we would fly over spots that looked like small lakes. This all worked quite well until we came to the river.
The view out the window as we approach the river.
Ever been in a river AND a car at the same time? Well I sure have.
I had my eyes closed, but from what I hear, we needed to hit the opposite bank at more of an angle, but that angle would have made us tip. The front of the car was a ways up the bank, but those of us in the backseat were definitely in the river.
When I opened my eyes, I saw the rest of my classmates and professor walking toward us from the rover that had been folowing us. Their eyes were as big as saucers and their mouths were hanging wide open. That told me all I needed to know. We were stuck good, and it had been scary to watch.
The look on Dr. Strickert's face a few moments later from my view out the rear window.
All of a sudden, local people started coming out of the woodwork, and Masaai warriors started showing up on bicycles. I turned around and all of a sudden there was Phil and a bunch of locals and Masaai throwing their full weight against the car while Pastor Haffermann played with the gas. We all had to stay in for the sake of traction for quite a long time. We had our cameras out taking pictures of the Masaai men with their machetes hacking up roots right next to us to put under the tires for traction and the ever-growing number of men messing with this and that to try to get us out. When we got more stuck, the students were forced to bail. One by one a man pulled us through the passenger door and a Masaai warrior grabbed our hands and dragged us up the muddy bank. My shoes were somewhere in the car, so all of a sudden I was standing barefoot in a road with about 100 men, women, and children amidst the ten-foot corn.
The locals were laughing and I figured this was probably the best entertainment they'd had in a long time and would be the story they told for years to come. Then I asked our German friend who speaks Swahili what they were saying. Um, they were chanting "give us money!" The men were telling Pastor that they would only push for a price and things were getting tense.
Eventually the second landrover had to cross over further down the river to try to pull ours out, and mowed down a whole bunch of corn in the process. That made the people real real happy. After a lot more work and a whole bunch of men, Grant was able to pull it out with his rover and Megan and I were climbing back in to get away from the semi-hostile people and get going. Well, apparently we weren't supposed to get back in the car yet. We were both in the way back seat with both side doors open when Pastor Haffermann gunned it harder than ever before. We look up and there is a real live lake in front of us. We started screaming that the doors are open, but he couldn't slow down, so he started screaming at us to close them or the car would be submerged. From the back seat, Megan holds onto my legs while I throw the rest of my body over the seat and out the doors to try to grab them as they are flying and bumping around like mad. It's a good thing she didsn't let go.
The next thing I know, we are on the other side of the lake (and I have no idea how) with all doors securely shut and the rest of the group being portaged over (literally) by the men.
When we were really on our way again, Pastor Herb told us about his negotiations with the locals. He told them in his calm and pastorly voice that humanity comes before money and that we are all on this earth to help each other. He also brought up the fact that the seminary gives money to their local school and is working on building a well there. The old men fought with him but the younger ones agreed. He had them elect a leader and after we were out, he gave that men 10,000 shillings to divide among them, which he said would buy a good morning tea for everyone involved. He left our Tanzanian friend there to negotiate payment for the corn, and he was then brought by bike with the Masaai the last few miles to where we were meeting.
After this the road ended and we were guided through tall grasses and shrubby trees for a few miles by the Masaai to the place where this brand new congregation was located.
And this is just the story of how we got there. I could write a book about the rest of the day with all of the crazy things that went on and all of the social and cultural implications that accompany them.
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