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Katherine Kaiser
Dr. Sterling
ENGL 1301!1
September 27, 2016

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A Hidden Culture
Two years ago, I had the privilege to take a trip to Kenya, Africa. Now this trip was not
some luxury vacation or safari excursion. Never before had I been outside of my comfort zone in
another country. Dont get me wrong, I had been on the church mission trips where I had seen
poverty, but I had never experienced it quite like this. I went on this trip, into the outskirts of
Kenya, to visit an orphanage that is very near and dear to my heart. It is called Oasis for Orphans
and is run by my uncle. It is through this orphanage that my family has been led to sponsor a
young girl named Nancy Nashipi. Her mother passed away due to AIDs and her father was shot.
She was primarily raised by her brother until he saw that he could not provide the best
opportunities for her. We now pay for her education and housing and treat her as family. We used
this trip to visit her and meet her family. Our trip was over the course of multiple weeks but, on
one day in particular my life was drastically changed. I was exposed to another culture that
taught me to be grateful for what I am given and loving to everyone.
My day began at the crack of dawn. I looked out at the bleeding sunrise and could feel
that something big was going to happen today. My mother, father, Nancy, our driver, and I all
piled into a dusty jeep that would start us on our long journey into the bush of Africa. We spent
what felt like hours riding along the bumpy and treacherous road. All the while, watching the sun

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rise over the hilly plains. We suddenly took a sharp turn into a bunch of nothing. No road, no
signs, and not even a dirt path. My family shared apprehensive looks as we wondered what laid
ahead of us. We finally arrived at what seemed to be our destination, a small mud shack that
could not hold more than five people. We had found Nancys original home. Outside of the
home, stood Nancys beaming older brother, his wife, and almost every elder that lived in a 50
mile radius. They all wore grins that showed their excitement at our arrival. We were the event of
the evening and everyone wanted to meet us. They welcomed us all graciously into their home
where they had managed to shove a kitchen, bed, fireplace, and dining area in a 20 foot by 20
foot area. Though there was not much to see, Nancys brother shone with pride as we toured his
home.
Through rough translation, we sipped on chai tea and picked at stale chapati (bread)
while we talked about Nancys amazing success at the orphanage. Never before had I seen such
joy like her brothers. He radiated pure happiness as her heard about her exposure to a better
education and relationships than he could have provided. They then walked us outside to their
outdoor kitchen which they used to prepare for feasts much like the one they were making for
that night. As we surveyed the outdoors, we saw the chopped up remains of the goat they would
be serving that night which looked all too much like a gruesome murder scene. As disgusting as
it was to us, to them it was an extravagance that was saved only for the most special of
occasions. We shared many stories of our lives back at home over dinner. We took pictures on
our phones that they made us promise to frame once we were back home. They were just as
intrigued by our hectic lifestyles as we were by their simplistic one.

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As our dinner came to a close, the head elder, dressed in the finest robes, stood and
looked to my father while saying, We welcome you and your family into our family and hope to
present you Masai names like our own. We were then rushed around in a ceremonious circle
while the Masai men and women began chanting and dancing in circles around my family. It was
a ceremony thats sacredness was unlike any other in our culture. First, they called my father
forward and named him Ole Sinare which means He fits and belongs. Second they named my
mother, Narakunkara because she was like a mother to all. Finally they called me forward and
said, You, my sister, are a welcome visitor that brings joy, we shall name you Paranai. These
words touched me with their thoughtfulness and purity. My Masai name brought me acceptance
in their culture and showed how deep their love for others, including me, went. They showed my
family unmatched love and graciousness that we had never earned from them.
As I watch the sun melt into the night, I reflected on this monumental day that I had just
experienced. I had been shown love, joy, and a type of gratefulness that I had never seen before.
Not only did they welcome us graciously, but they also took so much pride in what little they
had. What we would consider minimal and sad was more than enough for them. From their
gratefulness I have learned how to be happy with all I have been blessed with and to not take
things for granted. My world is rocked by the joy they show in the little things they have been
given. Every time I see my familys picture with the people of Nancys tribe, I am reminded to
find the joy in little things and to appreciate what I have. The bush of Nairobi holds a special in
by heart because it is in this small part of our massive world, that I had found a hidden culture
that was more pure than any I have ever seen before.