This is Part 1 of a multi-part essay that chronicles Tembea Na Mimi, a walk across Kenya.

by Jeff James

The blisters on my feet have healed and the limp has gone away, but what lingers the longest are these words softly sung from recent, precious memories:  “Ooo le la lo, ooo le la lo, ooo le la lo, la le loooo . . .” It’s a call and response song, and no matter where I am or what I’m doing when that memory calls, I respond: “Le laaa lo, le la-la lo. Le laaa lo, le la-la loooo.”   It’s a song with a melody that rides the crest of your breath, and just makes you want to smile.

Meaningless words they were, but we all understood them to mean love and friendship.  And we witnessed this song bridging language and culture, closing many divides between us.

We sang with our guides around the fire at night and we sang with hundreds of people who gathered to watch us pick ourselves up and wring ourselves out after being pummeled by monsoon rains.

We sang with orphans, and patiently waited for their echoed response, which invariably came.  Once sung, these were words that had to be repeated, even if only silently in the quiet of the mind.

A song, 22 camels, 2 Canadians, 9 Americans, 2 Scots, 9 Kenyans, “thereabouts,” and a lot of land to cover, we marched for 10 days covering 163 miles.

But the distance and time are no longer relevant; they never really were. They are just numbers to help quantify what we did, vying to impress you with our strength and commitment to complete a great physical challenge.

The real adventure story is not the physical challenges or the daring passages through wild lands (although there were plenty of those). It’s the people who came together to complete this mission who are the fabric of this tapestry.  The fabric of all adventures is woven by the characters who lived them.    

Over the course of the next several weeks, I will reveal to you a journey rich in adventure, saturated with ardent altruism and with noble deeds.  These are good people. Expect good stories. 

Thea Nation shares a song and dance with Bara Bara, our lead guide.

First, there’s Mama Thea who taught us the song to heal and lift our beaten spirits.  She was a healer by trade, a retired hospice nurse, who has no doubt provided comfort to hundreds of dying lives, and as I’ve experienced firsthand, to the vibrant as well.  I use that term loosely.

Thea massaged the feet of the sore and dressed the blistered wounds of the ailing.  At the sight of one mangled foot she declared it “positively unattractive,” and then proceeded to clean and mend.  She is a healer. Thea Nation, R.N. (retired nurse) she liked to exclaim.  She was the anchor thread to our tapestry, the zig to our zag, our comic relief and confidant, she was the Queen Mother. Riding high atop the camel, she surfed to the camel’s gait, arms outstretched, fluid and regal.   All wanted to bow in her presence; some did.  

I don’t know when Thea began a life of service, I suspect she’s been a giver her entire life.  Her history with Lalmba spans 30 years, first aiding Eritrean refugees in the Sudan in the 1980’s.

When I met her in Nairobi, she had just finished serving as a hospice nurse in Tanzania.  I have no doubt her CV is filled with great deeds of humanitarianism.  I have even less doubt that her healing extends far beyond the confines of her profession.  She touches the lives of everyone she meets.  She makes everyone feel special and a little happier to have shared an experience with her, no matter how brief.

Thea enjoys the morning light. Morning time, when the shadows are long and the legs fresh (yes, that is a kilt you see), it’s the ideal time for looking around. As the afternoon wanes and the legs and feet tire, we struggled to look past our feet. Each step becomes measured by the energy left to keep us upright and moving forward.

Thea and Michael Nation (siblings) share a boulder and some trail food. Here we are in the north Maasai Mara conservancy, heading southwest, looking out over pastoral land grazed by Maasai livestock, primarily goats, sheep and cattle.

Thea and Jane Obernesser enjoying the sunset and a conversation after a long day of walking.

Thea hugs James, our Maasai guide, goodbye. James was hired to guide us through the Mara conservancy. We said goodbye after day 6 and met a new guide to take us to Kihanche. James could spot wildlife miles away. We all strived to develop the Maasai Eye.

Thea hydrates along the roadside.

After the monsoon.  Thea leads a group of children in singing “Ooo Le La Lo.”

Thea makes friends with one of Lalmba’s RCAR children, a young girl with drug-resistant HIV.