That question about their teeth was met with smiles. They told me that they would explain later after we move closer to a fire. When I asked why, they said that it’s the only place we could safely relax…that “hyenas hate the fire”. So, we moved to an open patch that had a fire already raging. The mixture of the late evening and glowing orange created a reddish purple in the air. It was just so magical.

I had to remind myself that I was now surrounded by an armed tribe, flames, and unusually stimulating conversation. Things couldn’t be better. The subject of their teeth eased into a general discussion of their ritualistic ‘rights-of-passage’ that adolescents go through. For example, when a child reaches puberty, their left and right earlobes are cut. The hole is gradually enlarged until an ivory plug will fit. Then, the upper rim of their ear is pierced with a hot stick as their two lower front teeth are removed. It hurts like hell they told me. They also said that keeping a straight face and showing no pain or fear is mostly the point…that it is the hallmark of warriorhood. This then led to a brief conversation regarding what is, unquestionably, the cornerstone experience of their culture: circumcision and clitoridectomy.

It was now time to eat (which was why I changed the subject) and getting dark…really dark. The growing chorus of wildlife immediately around me was a bit nerve-wracking. Nevertheless, conversation continued as I began to smell cooking meat. Out of curiousity, I asked them if they like to eat fish. Almost everyone in the tribe made a ‘Yucky’ grimace. “Buffalo?” I suggested. Then the grimace turned to big smiles as they put on their “Yummy” face. Given that communication was somewhat difficult (but somehow flowing beautifully), here is what I gathered about what they like and don’t like to eat…
Yucky: rhinos, warthogs, rabbits, zebras, hyenas, snakes, ostriches, and fish.
Yummy: buffalos, giraffes, lions, antelopes, and impalas.

Then, one of them said that nobody really eats meat very much…and that what I was smelling was for just for me. …and at that moment, a bottle of red wine was produced, opened, and poured into just one glass. Completely unexpected. The glass was then handed to me as I showed them my "Yummy" face. “So what do you all eat then?” I wondered. “Milk and Blood” someone said. …Yucky, I thought.

So this is what goes down when they get hungry: two or three men approach one of their cows. One of them ties a tourniquet around its neck. Then a third warrior, using a special short-range blunt arrow, shoots it from close range into the now protruding and prominent jugular vein. …and with a bucket prepared to catch the gushing blood, their meal is now fully served. A little meat on rare occasion, some milk, and lots of blood.

I asked if anyone knew what a Big Mac was. The puzzled look on everyone’s face was classic. I’ll never forget it. They looked at each other COMPLETELY perplexed and all turned to me for an explanation as to what a Big Mac was. I didn’t know what to say and moved the conversation on.

“Did anybody see ‘The Gods Must Be Crazy’”? …and much to my surprise I heard one of the warriors burst out into a kind of muted but hysterical laughter. He must have viewed the film! He then offered the group a rather long winded explanation in their native tongue. He now had everyone really dying to see it. Some of the funniest scenes were retold around the fire. I only understood everyone’s laughter. It was really great.

This kind of communication, through stories, is something that these warriors excelled at given that their entire history is oral…not tracing back any farther than the 19th Century. It is unusual for them to extend such hospitality for someone like me given that they are a very xenophobic culture. (There is no word for ‘welcome’ in their native language.) With that, I felt lucky to be a part of their stories…and warmly welcomed into their world for this one night…a night now well into itself.

The conversation mostly consisted of laughter and learning. For instance, I learned that, in their culture, warriors are not permitted to marry (until after warriorhood). At one point, I just couldn’t resist asking in a tactful way what they did when they were in the mood to get laid. When I did, all the faces around the campfire smiled like a bunch of naughty schoolboys as they each told me about their girlfriends. Listening, I was now curled up near the dwindling fire…with a big, red blanket placed over my legs. I was starting to doze off. Soon, I would be fast asleep.

While sleeping through the night, I could hear the sounds of the wildest of animals: elephants pushing down trees, laughing hyenas, hippos splashing extremely near by. It was just unreal. If it weren’t for my overall level of comfort, I would have been too nervous to sleep at all. It was quite the opposite. I slept so soundly.

But the surprise came when I awoke to find myself in what was categorically the most spectacular bed I have ever slept in…by the longest of long-shots. Needless to say, I didn’t get out of bed for hours after waking…and just relaxed.

Today, when I reflect on the richness of those particular set of hours, what I remember most were my mixed feelings of heightened anxiety from not knowing what was coming next. I also remember quite well the sounds of laughing hyenas and wild dogs that were too-close-for-comfort. I will never forget opening my eyes and seeing the views from that bed. …but most of all, I will never forget the friends that I made...and how kind and generous they were towards me.

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