This is Part 2 of a multi-part essay that chronicles Tembea Na Mimi, a walk across Kenya.
by Jeff James
He was “our Lawrence,” tall and lean, culturally fluid, graceful in life, and impeccable in manners. His name is Michael Nation, and he walked like a Somali tribesman.
As we walked the Migori road, a Somali man driving a matatu pulled alongside our ambling forms, excitedly asking “Are you from Somalia?” Our pink skin quickly gave answer, but his excitement didn’t fade. We were walking with 22 mixed-breed Somali camels through Luo land! Camels in this part of Kenya were unheard of, and this man felt like he’d returned home.
His interest in us energized me. I started stepping a little higher, reaching a little further, striving to minimize impact and harness the energy of each step into forward momentum. I imagined myself walking like a Kenyan. They walked with ease, bodies gliding over broken landscapes as if they were paved pathways. Their heads and bodies remained motionless as their legs effortlessly moved forward. For brief moments, when I tried really hard, I could be as graceful in my stride too, but mostly, I lumbered. My body jostled and lurched forward, like an American accustomed to sidewalks.
