A Tribute to Claudio Masai Arap Kilach

Most people have experienced death in, at least, some remote way. We see death on the news all the time, but every now and then it hits close to home. Perhaps a loved one dies, forcing us to think about our own mortality. Claudio Masai Arap Kilach was one of those people who was full of life. He was always moving, always loving, and was one of my biggest fans. In the late 70’s he used to cheer me when I demonstrated my literacy skills at such an early age. His face was continually wreathed in smiles, and he was never without something good to say.  Claudio had energy and joy that spilled out and made everyone around fill feel cheerful. He called me his daughter. He kept saying my AIC church then was lucky to have me as an example to the youth. When I left home, he kept asking after me from Mom and Dad. When I came back from Brussels after 6 years he came home to toroch cheptanyu (‘welcome my daughter home’) . I still remember the warm tight hugs that told me about the love and sacred relationship we shared. When I joined LDS church he was one of the very few people who sought to understand this new undertaking rather than condemn like most.

When he got sick, he no longer moved a lot but whenever I am home I would go visit. Despite the toll the illness had taken on him, Arap Kilach never lost the light in his eyes. And I was always emotional that he was getting weaker. I wore this mask that somehow kept me from pondering his Mortality.

But last evening I was sitting in my study table working on translating conference talks.  When I picked up my brother called me, we talked a bit and he told me about the loss.  I quickly and tried to find my voice. I couldn't believe that joyful, friendly old man had departed. The overwhelming weight of sudden grief  hit me.

His death was so shocking it has sent a tremor through our community. It was frightening. If he could die so could I. If such a wonderful, joyful person could fall surely anyone could.  Its  given me a new realization that nothing lasts forever.  Not that I didn’t know, but the people who walk beside you could be gone in the next heartbeat. It made me appreciate the life God has given me and the lives of my friends and family all the more. I will never forget Arap Kilach. His Passing will forever serve as a reminder of my own mortality. RIP Mzee.

Pastoralist life: my experience

Men and women are standing at the gate to the family settlement with children amongst the crowd of sun-kissed faces. Maasai life reverberates in the village of Imurtot, located in the Loitokitok area of Kajiado.  Imurtot is the village in which I will spend a day and half with a family living here. The village is on a valley engrossed by endless amounts of grassland, pure blue skies, and in the southern horizon stands the majestic snowcapped Mt. Kilimanjaro.  I felt the sun’s evening rays and crisp, clean mountain air, more so than anywhere else I have traveled the world. I felt  a little anxious as my colleagues drove away, not knowing how I might be received in my new home. The cows are mooing and the goats and sheep bleating as they return home from the pastures. The women, numbering about 6 of them greet me with shy faces. A man comes, and

because he understands Swahili we are able to have a conversation.  Nearly everywhere you turn you can see the animals around the compound.

Venturing inside the family compound provides you with a different feel. There are all these nice ladies and kids who are so at home in this house, and so I cannot figure out who my host is.  This group of people live a life quite different from any ordinary townsperson.  I must have looked as lost as I felt. Yet, the sense of peace and freshness in the air makes me envy these people who are not aware of what pollution is. The homestead in on a grassland, the manyattas are basically the most popular shelter.  Most  of the day is spent outdoors where the family members and neighbors work, spend time together, enjoy the company of friends, and sometimes sleep at night. Before now, they were as unfamiliar to me as I was to them. It was indeed this very idea of unfamiliarity and interest that gave me a desire to learn more.

I spent a day and half studying anything that was relevant to nomadic way of life. Most of my research was conducted in rather informal ways, be that through participant observation or interviews during conversation. I met several people during my stay who I shared infinite conversations with. Needless to say, that was the first time I ventured out into the grasslands for the nomadic way of life.

Unlike most people, pastoralist communities do not usually associate the concept of "home" with a geographical place, or even any place they've lived in for a significant period of time. There is a broader understanding of what home is and it doesn't exist as a place, necessarily, but has more to do with the people and the relationships that were built and nourished while residing in a certain destination. Home is the presence of people with whom you fellowship. Protection of a home is therefore protection of relationships.

Still, on the concept of relationships, pastoralists don’t just relate with people, they also relate with nature. One man told me that they have had a supply of healing herbs for ages because they traditionally are not allowed to uproot a tree that did not have other of its species around it. Swamps and hilltops were sacred and were only accessed by priests. This kept the river sources secure and protected.

So my dilemma is who really are pastoralists? In my life as an educational researcher, I know that we have made weighty errors in defining pastoralists because we focus more on the technical aspects of economic development and ignore the bona fide goals of human development.  We know pastoralists as people whose livelihood depends mainly on the raising of domestic animals including cattle, camels, goats, sheep, and donkeys, which are used for milk, meat, transport, and trade. Living among these people seeing how basically satisfied they are with their efforts to make life better and their ambition to improve further I ask myself, “Are there multiple avenues to improve the human condition among them besides just having a sole focus on the emphasis on changing the livestock aspect ?” In essence, we probably need to see the world through their eyes and them to more effectively engage a changing world and have more choices about how they live day-to-day. After all people are more inclined to bring about change they believe in than what ‘progressive minds’ suggest or impose.

After the Loitokitok visit, I am sure, even confident, that there has been new knowledge created, and I have personally had to change my perspective on certain things. It will be interesting to see how we engage them and manage to sustain the process of change though the curriculum, learning together, and reinforcing the need for adaptation.

Beyond Agony

I have been thinking a lot about all I have been through; I cannot go through this trauma of cancer and its treatment with thinking there is no meaning to it…  When it comes to traumatic events I try my best to wrap my mind around what has happened, I try to make sense of it, and then I wonder what do I do next? So what has it meant to me?  What have I learned so far on this cancer journey?

1. I have learned that I have limits, and that limit has been fear.  Fear of  not succeeding, fear of not doing anything with my life, fear of doing these life battles alone, fear of not being here.  I am beginning to understand my fears thanks to cancer, and now I am trying to figure out how to get rid of it…  Easier said then done, and I hope once I am done with  cancer treatments, I will conquer these fears.
2. I have learned making peace with myself,  cancer, and my beliefs, is not an easy ride.
3. I have learned that my big heart has big aches.
4. I have learned that I have a lot to learn…

I have learned to make sense of this madness, because that is what it is, it is madness.  It is madness having to learn that you have no control over the cancer, and it is madness having to live with all those side effects of cancer therapies..the bone marrow extracts chemo eish!!!!.  Although I made peace with  cancer treatments some time ago,  it still causes me frustration.

Now that I am coming out on the other side, I know I will make it (i have for the most part (I think), but I don’t want to forget what I have gone through, I want to honor this time in my life, I want to make sense of it, I want to help make the pain not so overwhelming for others, this I know. I have continued the new “tradition” open talk about chemo, and gave one to a fellow cancer patient who is just starting her cancer journey, I hope it will bring her a smile, and know that she is not alone. Peace is hard won that is for sure..

Transitioning to “survivor” from patient is not as calm and peaceful as I hoped.   One would think as I did, that once you are complete with your treatments that you can jump back into your life as before…  I think the key word here is “before.” I am happy and grateful that I am here to share my story another day, however, I am not like “before.”  Making peace with the tears, the changes, and navigating my way through cancer has not been an easy journey.

Some days I am able to rock and roll, then other days, I’m so quiet and withdrawn.  But you know what?  I’m quite comfortable with being by myself and staying at solitude, I’m quite content living a quieter life; sometimes I miss the extroverted person that I use to be, but only sometimes, because I am now more content with creative and spiritual pursuits.

As I am winding down my treatments I have pondered about art,  which helped me reconnect with my creative spirit, I haven't drawn or painted or anything like it but I like to do poetry, and I enjoy more making meaning of others' artwork.  I  rediscovered beading, knitting and crocheting.  It has also reawakened some dreams that I had as a child of what I wanted to do “when I grow up”  I reckon after cancer treatments, I’m  grown-up LOL!

I also returned to college and am in my first year, I’m getting my PHd in Educational Management and Policy studies in 3 years, which is what I think my  life is all about you know, leadership...doing the right things right!! (Thanks Steve Covey), at least I think so.  

Returning to college has been a challenge though as I struggle with chemo-brain, grief, and fatigue.  These sure have been a kick-in-the-backside and none too gently.  I really do not know which one has been worse for me, the fatigue or the chemo-brain, both which has made life, work and school a challenge, and at times has sent me into depression…but I keep trying. I cant forget the compromised immunity that has predisposed me to horrible infections at the top being two cases of meningitis. Its crazy when your CD4 count is so low... those bugs get in without warning. And the worst is when I lost my mind without knowing I had... That was freaky but I also felt cheated...

All this brings me to “survivorship,” “survivor,” “thriver,” terms which I am not happy with. While at it someone told me 'battling cancer is harsh we should use words like managing cancer..what the heck is wrong with people wanting to be politically correct even with cancer..that encounter is a battle... you win or lose...managing is sugar-coating pepper! Well sigh..okay back to where I was...   To me those terms are limiting and defining.  Right now I use “Beyond Cancer” until I can find a word that resonates within me, I don’t relate with “survivor” or “thriver”.  If these words help you make peace with this hell called cancer, I am truly happy for you, but for me, they just don’t do it.

I pray to the God to help me make peace with these terms and help me find peace with the way I am now.  I certainly am not the person I was “before” and I am certainly NOT those words.  Cancer and its treatments seem to strip of you of you, and you come out the other side with a different way of looking at the world and yourself, at least I did.  I am a a mother, a friend,  a writer, an educator, a little girl, and a strong woman who had to learn about cancer.  I am not 'my' cancer and I am not a “thriver” and “survivor”.  I am Evelyn Jepkemei, a Nandi Woman who danced with cancer.

 “Courage doesn’t always roar.  Sometimes courage is the little voice at the end of the day that says I’ll try again tomorrow.” ~ Mary Anne Radmacher.