Nyuru, Sacred Mountain of circumcision
A scarlet shadow moves like a mirage on the plains scorched. Some scattered acacia between the dry beds of streams is the only feature that breaks the heat of the lava plains of Northern Kenya. And, against the horizon, profile of several young Samburu on the run, with light jogging and insistent that which characterized the war parties of these pastors in the days before the Mzungu, the white man who broke the traditional life marked by drought, wars, marriages and others that set the tempo of life in this corner of Old Africa.
Perfectly outlined against the twilight sun around us and where the howls of the hyenas get the ideal counterpoint, totally African, a nightmarish landscape
Background, as we approach the passage of our camels, a black pyramid stands on the moor. Perfectly outlined against the twilight sun around us and where the howls of the hyenas get the ideal counterpoint, totally African, a nightmarish landscape, except perhaps Martian vegetation and the sounds of the night. Es Ol Doinyo Nauru, the sacred mountain of the Samburu, an oasis of greenery in the middle of the wasteland.
Once every seven years, Samburu youth come to the mountain to meet the rite of entry into adulthood through circumcision. During that time, applicants to "dwell" are in a no man's land where almost anything goes, vacated marching shoulder the responsibilities of adults in the group. Free Sex, raids and hunting, "Mischief" considered normal prior to the entry through the acute pain in a final stage in their lives.
Once every seven years, Samburu youth come to the mountain to meet the rite of entry into adulthood through circumcision
In the morning before the slopes amanecemos dense greenery of Nauru. The young group of candidates has joined us and thanks and curiosity observed between morning rituals of Wazungu; taste our food and spit on you as we offer a bunch of young thugs. A joy of living that does not hide the tension that the next few days will live the test of manhood that awaits.
During the morning we were guided by the secret paths of the mountain, just enough for the passage of a person and a huge cliff on each side (scenes almost home movie Tarzan, the porters, they always clear, tumbling down the slopes ...). We have their raids, herds stolen from Pokot neighbors, the leopard which followed several days for meat hunted and eventually steal, of the special friends who bask in each village who have been. Teens chat universal, but in this case full of anticipation for us strange, incomprehensible.
We have their raids, herds stolen from Pokot neighbors, the leopard which followed several days for meat hunted
At nightfall they return to our camp painted with ocher. Tomorrow is the day that the "priests" were convened across the mountain, away from our eyes, to face the pain (and not just at the time of cutting, that is usually done with a piece of container or a clean blade does not necessarily. Deaths from infection are rare but still give) demonstrate their strength and commitment to the group. Tense but smiling and telling us a story once more. And one of them gives me a seat carved from wood, filled with grease and dirt after use for seven years, turning all the experiences of that time in an unknown (a gift that I keep next to my desk as I write these words).
At dawn the morning and have gone, only are the tracks mixed with the ashes of the fire where they sang last night, before us ... Descending from a hawk flies Nyuru slopes, to the place where young Samburu endure the screams and pain and will enter a stage of their lives, in a green, magical and full of life as they, above the plains burned a fascinating landscape.
