Walk this way

After making our way to the local school to help teach the daily lesson, I am approached by some school officials. One is insistent that I must leave immediately, as there is something very important I MUST photograph. She dispatches two young boys to be my guide for this trip and they lead me off into the woods. We walk past some goats. And some cattle. And some huts and simple homes. We stay on a path that winds from tiny community to tiny community. Our conversation is quite limited, as I ask some simple questions of them and they giggle and smile back at me. After about 15 minutes of walking they slow their pace and every once and awhile I am nearly leading, with no idea on where we are headed. We see people washing their clothes. We see all sorts of plant life. All sorts of terrain. Occasionally we spot children running out to see our three-person parade. We see lots of nothing. And still all they can muster is an occasional giggle. About one half hour into our journey I begin to ramp up my useless interrogation of the pair and now ask if they know where we are going and when we might arrive. Puzzled looks and silence, except for the sounds of our plodding footsteps through this jungle.

I began to replay the conversation at the school. Why would I be lead off and how could these two miss so much class time on my behalf. WHERE ARE WE GOING?!?!?

And then I heard the drums.

Off in the distance, but distinct and growing louder you could hear the steady beat from just beyond us. Each puddle we jumped over, every step we took brought us closer to the source of this sound. My tiny tour guides now began talking among themselves and laughing much more than before. For some reason one takes off his belt and hands it to the other, who now puts it to use. I have no earthly idea what is going on and begin to shoot photos just in case I must find my way back alone.

And then I hear the yelling.

Much closer now, I can hear a crowd of people are soon to be in our path and they are yelling. Chanting. Along with the drums, now clear to me. The rhythm is strong and steady, and I begin to have some wild thoughts I begin to blame on my malaria medicine. After walking for nearly an hour and finally on a road of sorts, where are they taking me… so close to lunchtime?

You might imagine that if I had seen a plume of smoke I would have just started running in the other direction. I sort of imagined I would come upon a site with hungry locals and one tasty tourist.

Instead, just beyond our last turn, drums beating fast and furious and loudly, shrill yells filling the air, we approached the tiny town. My guides are sent away when we approach a women looking to be in charge and I am to go to the main office for my instructions. There I find drummers drumming, dancers dancing and a small gathering lined along the roadway. At the office I am told that some dignitaries are coming to visit and I am needed to document this grand occasion. As I stand there still a bit confused (but relieved that I am now off the menu) I see a little girl holding a little pillow with some little scissors on it. And notice a woman stinging up a yellow ribbon across the bright blue door before me.

Yes, it now seems oh so clear. I walked for about an hour just to be called to the greatest event of this community. I was needed so urgently to photography their ribbon cutting.

Turns out the “dignitaries” were Dr. Able with the Baylor Pre-Med group and incoming visitor and prior traveling companion Joell, who I left behind just a day before in Nairobi. After she snipped the ribbon (and yes, I made a photo of it) we had some cold drinks offered to us (Fanta and Coke) and enjoyed the singing, dancing and joy of celebration for their safe arrival.

I just hope they can find someone else to shoot photos of their next party…