Shanty Town Transcedence
By Marlise Karlin
You could see how the light had dimmed from their eyes and faces. Some of their struggles were those we’ve never had to deal with in the Western world, while others were similar – the deep sadness and grief that comes with resignation, discrimination, and hopelessness. Much of the sadness recorded on their dark-skinned faces was from the hardships they endured. Many of these women became wives at the age of 12 or 13. Those who had husbands unable to afford the luxury of more than one wife were left with no support and no way of taking care of themselves or their children.
I arrived at the rural clinic in the middle of the Mara Plains, the home of the Maasai tribe, not knowing what to expect. Their new clinic, with its freshly painted stucco walls and blue-lined windows, stood out like a lone jewel at the edge of a shanty-style town. Talek Village looked like a surreal movie set of one-room buildings with tin siding, no windows, and no plumbing. When you wanted food from the ‘store’ a man would come running down the mud-packed street, shushing roosters out of the way; from behind the wooden bars above a dust-filled counter he’d ask your bidding.
The previous night had been magical; a Stillness Session brought untold gifts to a tribe of Maasai warriors by the light of a roaring campfire and the glow of an iridescent moon revealed behind storm-laden clouds. The rains had set this unusual occurrence in motion. It was part of a golden thread that was to weave another series of mystical events into my life, and into the world of these disheartened women, just waiting and wanting for life to offer them more than it had.
when the soul’s yearning is to know more
Jackson Njapit, the lone practitioner of this last-chance enclave of hope and healing, was among those who discovered the impassioned wisdom in his heart on that extraordinary night. Inspired to share what he had experienced, he invited me to bring ‘that blessing of peace’ to the women and their babies coming to his clinic the following day.
As I toured the new medical facilities, a warrior appeared: a towering form with chiselled features highlighting skin that was as dark as a moonless sky. If he hadn’t been wearing the traditional clothing of the Maasai, he could have stepped out of the pages of Men’s Vogue. No one knew why he was there, as he wasn’t sick. Possibly the whispered talk that was resounding through the neighboring villages after last night’s unparalleled entrance into new worlds drew him to find out more for himself. Speaking in the English of one who works for the tourist trade, he questioned my background and work. Jackson gently interrupted the warrior’s inquiry, informing me before he left on his rounds that the women had gathered and were waiting for me to join them.
Doubtful, skeptical, questioning: Who is this woman and what could she possibly have to tell me about my life? I certainly couldn’t blame them for being distrustful. These women had every right to be, especially given their backgrounds. More had arrived than Jackson expected, including those who weren’t even sick. I wondered what had brought them. We later discovered that some were wives of the men who had been at the session the night before. They had come with that wanting, that yearning of the soul, when it’s time to rediscover what has been long forgotten.
cultural differences or common ground
Often people believe that our cultural differences mean we have nothing in common, when actually there is a universal ground in our global village. At the hub of it all, beyond any differences, are the values we mutually share in something bigger than ourselves. This understanding was brought into clear view as the inconceivable unfolded before our eyes moment by moment.
A new element was added to the mix of distrustful emotions in the room when a man unexpectedly arrived. As he entered this domain of women he scowled at me from across the room, sending an implicit message of disapproval. He stood glowering above everyone, in striking counterpoint to the women who were positioned below him on a bench that partially circled the room.
There is a long-established Maasai custom that men and women do not fraternize publicly; interestingly, the scowling man did not appear to want to leave. I decided to invite him to stay, only asking that he be seated if he chose to remain. He walked quietly across the room, and sat down! I also invited the English-speaking warrior, who had joined us, to participate by translating. He willingly agreed. Something had begun to happen that was outside the cultural norm.
the awakening of tenderness… the release of intolerant traditions
I spoke about the challenges that all people face and how we all have a deep knowing where we connect to the peace in our hearts. The women appeared curious, while uncertain. I suggested they close their eyes and just feel what this stream of limitless life Energy had to offer them. Unlike the preceding days of tempestuous weather, in this moment, it wasn’t raining. The sun was streaming through the windows. The rag-tag curtains billowed as golden light poured through them. The awakening of tenderness could be seen even on the faces of the babies who had all stopped crying and were lying in their mother’s arms, eyes open wide, as they drank in the healing ambrosia that pervaded the room.
The warrior seated himself quietly. He caught my eye with a nod indicating a request for this expression of grace to be offered to him in the same way it was being given to the women – through touch. Another set of intolerant traditions began breaking down: the one where men don’t sit with women and never allow themselves to be touched in front of them. He was sitting next to a female nurse and yet he opened his mind, his hands, and heart to that honeyed revelation. It radiated throughout the entire clinic in the time of Stillness, and soon you could see people experiencing the wondrous tranquility that had become as thick as heat feels on the open plains.
It’s rare to observe a cultural shift this transcendent. And yet, in the company of grace, all barriers disintegrated. Serenity illumined the room. The sorrow and depression that had advanced stress on the faces of the men, women, and children dissolved, and in its place was that glow Love offers us when it permeates our hearts. All hierarchal differences faded into meaninglessness as the nurse, the warrior, women, and children blended into a community that respected the inherent value within each person.
A renowned political leader once stated, when working to create peace in a country whose citizens were intemperate with one another that he wanted to ‘make water move uphill’. I don’t know if it happened then, but when pure awareness creates visibility within, this will always be the consequence. Here in Kenya, in a tiny rural clinic, the mists had cleared.
The illuminating diamond waiting to be unearthed in each of us lies just beneath the surface where the beliefs that create human pain are encrusted. These beliefs are set in motion by an unconscious society confirming its universal themes of betrayal, loss, and mortality, assuring the next generation they never forget, unintentionally perpetuating the nightmare. Every one of us has been the recipient of corresponding cultural beliefs. In the way that honing a diamond to perfection is a process, we are on training wheels. What awaits us is a jewel of caring and compassion, the recognition of our shared humanity.
I spoke to the now-smiling group about infusing their lives with the Stillness at the source of all inspiration. They could, I promised, lie down in the fields, watch the wheat blowing in the wind, look up into the endless blue of the sky, and touch this Energy of exquisite peace again and again. Would all their challenges be solved overnight? No. Would they shift from where they were? Yes.
Once we awaken to the essence of our true nature, we see the perfection that exists, and from here, water running uphill is really not a problem…
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