I was born in Thika, a little village in Kenya, Africa,that is northeast of Nairobi, but I came to America because I wanted to get an education and become a teacher to small children.
I remember when I first stepped from the plane: the sights, sounds, and smells were nothing like what I had experienced back in my little village. For one thing, the DIVERSITY of people: the way they talked or dressed. Or even looked. Also, there were so many sounds and smells. It was all SO confusing...
But I knew I had to come to America to better my lot in life. Back in Kenya I raised cattle for a living, and I was getting over an ugly arranged marriage--let alone, the death of my husband, Lengoni, who had been killed by a marauding lion. It was just as well: Lengoni treated me very badly. Also, there were no educational opportunities for women, especially me, seeing Father was so dead-set against it.
I was also angry at Father. He wanted me to remain in Kenya, wanted me to retain my Maasai ways. I wanted to become a teacher. Father called me a fool; he said the water people [white people] were too much of a influence on me and my thinking. I got mad and left in a huff. I wasn't ABOUT to listen to a skinny old man who thought he knew everything: I, M'buti Moore, was in control of my destiny!
Now here I am--in America.
That was almost four and a half years ago.
My life hasn't really gotten much better; I sometimes wonder if I have made a terrible mistake. For one thing, my health's suffered. Terribly. I have been in and out of hospital and must use sticks (crutches) or a wheel chair because I had been burned and now carry terrible scars. I also got sick with flesh-eating disease and lost an incredible amount of weight. I am painfully skinny: I look like I have ukimwi [AIDS] and am so weak a lot of the time.
But in a way my life HAS gotten better. I am now married (it is soon to be 3 years come September) to a WONDERFUL man named Roberto Sormiento, and we now have a BEAUTIFUL little boy named Jubaki. Jubaki looks just like me. He also has his daddy's smile and dimples. He is the sweetest little child!!
But in my heart I carry much sadness. Besides my poor health, I also carry the memory of my parents. Father and Mother [their names were Mbaki and N'gaire Moore] were killed by gunfire. They were at the bank, getting money to go back to Africa, and kids with guns started shooting and they killed my parents. I can't talk about it now without crying: my eyes are wet now just thinking of this...they never got to see their grandchild be born, never got to hold him, never got a chance to love him...
But I know in my heart I MUST remember my Maasai ways. I can't raise cattle in the city, but I still dress like the Maasai, and I still eat traditional Maasai and East African dishes. I also continue to speak Maa [Maasai language] and Swahili in addition to English. I still believe in Engai, but I don't talk of Engai much because here in America people believe in Jesus, so I must try to believe like the Americans and believe in this Jesus. It's hard, though...
Someday I hope to return to Kenya, and I hope to take little Jubaki there. I want him to know he is half Maasai, and I want him to learn of my Maasai ways. That way, he'll have the best of BOTH worlds.
This is very powerful. Thank you for sharing this! I hope that you can one day feel less sadness about the past. There has been a lot of pain in your life and you will always carry some of it with you but your life can be happy. You have a wonderful husband and child and so many people in the US want that so badly but don't know how. You are very fortunate in many ways.
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