A new understanding of “warrior”.
Photo by Kristi Rible
I took this picture in the early nineties when I was living in East Africa. This is a Samburu mother that I came to know after spending several days in a Samburu village in Northern Kenya. The dryness and the heat up there was a constant. I remember being in that lorry for more than 12 hours to get there after countless flat tires from the heat of the sand and rocks which, combined with hot rubber, caused the tires to pop over-and-over again. We also made one purposeful stop to fill up water tanks as we had hit the last known permanent water source (besides Lake Turkana) from there to the Ethiopian border. It was clear from the low water level that the drought was really bad that year --a gloomy foreboding of the year to come (and of the future of Northern Kenya where drought has become a constant).
When we finally arrived at our destination in Samburu, we took a short walk to a spectacular rock viewpoint – a 360 degree view that spanned for miles to Mt. Kenya in one direction, Lake Turkana in another. The view was breathtaking, the earth expansive and vast. Laidemu, our guide said that this was the clearest he had ever seen it in his lifetime as usually there would be a thick moist haze surrounding the mountains. As he saw me looking out over that land with awe, he leaned in and said quietly “yes, isn’t it beautiful, but if you notice the Samburu warriors, they are all still and silent because it is bad sign – no rain in sight for hundreds of miles.”
In the Samburu religion the name for rain and the name for God is one and the same, Nkai. The word Nkai is used to represent the guardian spirits that are associated with trees, rocks, sky, and rain. The Samburu speak to Nkai directly and believe he is in all nature. And, in these days, the Samburu warriors spent all their time gathering together to discuss the drought and the land and the cattle, praying to Nkai that the rains would come.
Photo by Kristi Rible
But it was in those next few days, that I began to internalize a new understanding of warrior as I watched and participated in the long walks with the village women to fetch water. I was witness to the indominable strength of these women as the burden of that drought fell directly on their shoulders. Women and mothers had the arduous tasks of caring for children and babies while walking miles upon miles to ensure their families and livestock had water.
Photo by Kristi Rible
When I captured the silhouette of this Samburu mothers’ final daylight breath and first breath of rest, it would be another moment I would come to remember. A moment that symbolizes all of the reasons that I do the work I do today.
I didn’t know at that time how profound of an impact my time in East Africa has had on my lifetime. What I do know now is that my purpose comes from a foundation of the stories that I have collected along my journey which have become a guiding force for my work today.
Her story, and the story of every story woman is unique but all so very much the same. The work is never done. And mothers, are the strongest people I know.
Photo by Kristi Rible