Dirt is beautiful! Getting dirty usually means you’ve accomplished something or tried to.
Hanging on my wall in Ngong are three photos from when I was young, one is my father holding me when I was very young wrapped in a blanket outside our home in Litchfield. The second one is of me at about the age of 6 feeding our horse Joshua. The third picture is of my dad crouching down petting our dog Custard in field and me at about the age of 3 standing next to him in my bib overalls with Jackie O sunglasses on and a white clutch purse. I remember two other photos from my youth. In one I’m about 4 years old, I have on a white mini dress with big flowers on it and red mud boots. My right hand is firmly holding my dad’s hand, my left hand is holding up a gopher in a trap and on my face is a huge smile. The last photo is when I was about 9, my dad and I have big smiles on our faces – shoes off, pants rolled up, arms around each other walking through calf deep mud.
As I grew, I found less and less time to get dirty. With the exception of farm life like mucking out horse stalls or haying, and a few adventures along the way like mud volleyball in college you just have less opportunities to get really grubby.
However, when dirt makes you as happy as it makes me, you will always find your way back to it. Consider my current job with the Maasai. By the time I reach Ilkiloret, I’m covered in dust and the dust just accumulates during the day. My life in Ilkiloret is filled with visiting dung covered huts and swatting flies and children who play in the dirt and then come and rub their hands over my white skin and soft hair - and I’m blissfully happy.
Of course, purging the dirt is nice too. Bathing is an exhilarating experience in the bush, no simple shower in tiled sterility can compare. Where else can you have a clear view of nature while washing a thick film of dirt from your body? Once the dirt is gone however, and I’ve relished the cleanliness of my skin and hair, I often begin to muse about the next time I will be blissfully dirty…fortunately, I never have to wait long.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment