An afternoon in Takaba, Kenya

"Oh this will be so beautiful! Just beautiful!" Habiba said as she plopped another handful of henna on the bottom of my left foot. I smiled and agreed. But what I was really thinking was, "No, this won't be beautiful. Really it won't. My feet are going to be so dry and orange for a month! And I'm going to have to sit here for hours without moving while this stuff dries!" "Ok, now give me your other foot! Don't let that foot touch the ground!" I leaned back on my bed while placing my right foot into her lap, my left foot swayed above the ground. There goes my pedicure. I could feel globs of henna falling off my foot and onto the floor. The compound Ma'ma walked into my room, silently watched for a bit, and noticed the henna (which looks like brown mud) on the floor. She returned moments later with a couple of sticks, picked up the henna and threw it out into the compound, after taking a bit for herself. When Habiba finished with my feet, she grabbed my hands and made circles on my palms and then covered the tips of my fingers. The voices of young boys, singing the Qu'ran, drifted through the open window as we sat in the room and chatted.

Habiba, founder of an International NGO, has dedicated her life working towards the eradication of FGM. Because of the focus of her work, she was divorced and given a nickname of "Clitoris" by the elders in the community. Her house was vandalized once - several years back - and she had to send her children to Nairobi for school to avoid harassment from teachers and students about her work. She said that she wasn't so much of an outcast now, her children are proud of her and have also joined the international community and everything she has endured has been worth it. As a woman now in her 50's she could see the "fruits of her work." The elders are beginning to understand that FGM is not an Islamic practice (with the help of visiting Islamic leaders from the Middle East) and they are slowly encouraging the women to stop the practice and for the men to support the eradication. The scope of her work has expanded to include criminalizing rape.

At some point in the conversation Hersi walked in, "Habiba, I see that you are preparing Alicia! Do you have a Somali husband in mind?!" When Hersi walked in Habiba quickly turned away from the door and with a jerk of her head (because her hands were full of henna) she flung her veil down over her face and then turned to Hersi, "Yes! My son!" We all laughed and I told her the advice that Farrah gave me before I left him in Wajir, "Habiba, Farrah told me I could accept all of your gifts except your men!" She howled at that, Hersi chuckled and left the room. With her forearms she pushed back her veil and I could see her face again.
When she was done, she told me she was leaving. She also told me to remain there until it dried and that I could wash the henna off in five hours! She bent down, gave me a hug and wrote her email and cell phone number on a piece of paper for me. I thanked her again for the beautiful dress she gave me and for the henna. Before she walked out of the room, she asked one more time, "Alicia, would you please come to Mandera with me?" I told her I was honored and that I would next time, InshaAllah. I watched her and her driver climb into her truck and they drove off, back to Mandera. There has been a recent increase of kidnappings in Mandera and if I wanted to go, I was instructed to not speak in public and to be fully veiled. And I wouldn't be able to leave my hotel room after 4pm. Not worth it! The latest kidnapping was three non-Somali education officers. The border of Somalia runs through the town and the officers were brought into Somalia. They were released, unharmed, for a large sum a few days later. We scratched off Mandera town from the list of research sites!

I laid back on my bed, with my legs outstretched and my elbows propped on the bed, and starred up at my tin roof. I remembered my first night in my training village in The Gambia. It rained, the type of rains in which one can't see through, the torrential rains. The sound of the rain on the tin roof kept me up the entire night..not because of the loud sound I later came to love, but of fear. I laid there thinking...If I scream, no one will hear me. Anything could happen to me, and no one would know. I later came to realize that there was nothing to fear except the rats and insects that climbed on my mosquito net!
Hersi walked in, asked if I needed anything, and then left to visit a friend. I laid on the bed for a few minutes longer listening the young boys singing in the compound behind ours. Their high pitched, sweet voices were almost meditative...and I recalled my conversation with Habiba and also with Rokia, a young woman who I met a few nights earlier while I was in Wajir. Rokia and I sat with Farrah on the grounds of our gated hotel until 12:30am the first night I met her. The three us drank tea under an acaia and talked for hours. Rokia is a young woman, and married to a man who supports her political and international work. She is the first female elected to political office in her district and she is the founder of a NGO that provides Non-Formal Education services to young women.

My thoughts of these extraordinary women were interrupted by Kimathi, the education officer who accompanied me on this leg of the research trek, "Alice! What has she done to you?!" Kimathi asked as he chuckled deeply and walked into my room. I sat up and smiled at him and told him that she was making me beautiful! He sat in the plastic chair that Habiba sat in just moments earlier and the two of us sat in my room looking out into the compound. Ma'ma walked by and I asked Kimathi if she washed his shirts. "Ni ni! No! She told me she was too tired!" "So? What are you going to do?" I asked him. I couldn't help but to laugh out loud when he told me that he had washed them. My laughter made him laugh and encouraged him to recall the scene again, only with more detail. As if on cue, Ma'ma walked in and placed a pile of clean, folded clothes onto my bed and walked back out. "Ni, ni! She was tired because she washed all of your clothes!" "Kimathi, what can I say? I got her this morning before we left!" And we both began to laugh again. He then asked, "How long do you have to sit there like that?" I stood up, walked outside and said, "No longer! I can't take it! Ma'ma! Mi nataka magi!" I yelled to Ma'ma across the compound as I sat on the steps outside of my room. I watched Ma'ma walk over to the open well in the corner of the compound. She pulled a bag of water up and poured it into a can and began to walk over to me. Kimathi came out and sat next to me on one of the beds that lined the veranda (common to see beds outside when it is too hot to sleep indoors). Ma'ma brought water to me and she held the can over my feet and poured as I removed all the henna from my feet. Kimathi asked her tons of questions as she helped me, "What is the henna made from? What is it going to do to her skin? What color will it be? What is the purpose?" Of course it was all in Swahili and I just laughed, Kimathi was always asking questions! "Alice! Ma'ma is telling me that you are removing the mud too soon!" I told him to reassure her that because of my light skin, the henna doesn't need to stay on as long. When she raised her eyebrows at me I knew she didn't buy it...

We stayed two nights in Takaba, in Western Mandera. I was among three others on this trek. Hersi; the TARNET coordinator, Kimathi; the education officer, and Abdi; the driver. We travelled for 1.5 weeks together in the North. I thought it was going to be a long trip after the first day, and for a few days I longed for my younger travel companions from the previous trip! But the trip turned out to be really enjoyable. It just took a few days for Kimathi to come out his shell, and for the driver to speak. We covered extraordinary land, met incredible people, and I really enjoyed the company.