The plains they call home are not arable; they are dry and infertile. The rocky, sandy soil is dotted with scraggly shrubs, acacia trees, numerous varieties of cacti, and sisal plants. For all intents and purposes, there is no grass. Towering red termite hills frequent the landscape – some as tall as 12 feet.
Virtually no crops can survive, as the area receives very little precipitation throughout the year. Basically, the only water comes from the nearby hills and mountains when they get rain. This runoff produces overflowing seasonal rivers, severe erosion, and at times – raging floods. However, during most of the year, these riverbeds are bone dry. The dry, thirsty soil can only sustain the grazing of livestock.
It’s estimated that less than 200,000 speak Pokot. Both Hills and Plains Pokot straddle the border with Kenya and Uganda. 25% are “corn people” (cultivators) and 75% are “cow people” (nomadic pastoralists). Those living on the plains herd cows and goats.
Wealth is measured by how much livestock you own (by both the corn and cow people). They use livestock for bartering (exchange for goods) and for paying dowry (bride price). The animals are also used for milk, butter, and cheese – but are rarely slaughtered for consumption.
Much of northern Kenya is known as “bandit country”. Livestock rustling is a way of life – just as it has been for centuries. Many people die as a result of these fierce clashes. In fact, little regard is held for the lives of others. Instead, pastoralists receive praise for killing. A warrior who makes it home unscathed – and with lots of stolen animals – is a role model in the community. When a Pokot is killed in such a skirmish, it is said that he is "mourned with only one eye". In other words, his death was honorable. An ongoing fight between the Pokot and the Samburu communities has been raging for months, with raids and counter raids. As always, the issue in the drought-ravaged area is pastureland and watering points.
The Pokot have lobbied the Kenyan government to build a cement plant near Ortum, an area rich in limestone. This would produce many jobs. Right now, the prevailing attitude among the men is, “our only job is to steal cattle”.
During the first few months of 2006, a malaria outbreak in West Pokot claimed the lives of at least 72 people. It’s likely that many more died at home. Recently there was also a measles outbreak, with over 20 people – both children and adults – admitted to hospitals.
My guide for this trip was Geoffrey Masinde (an uncle to my young friend, Collins). After attending his church on Sunday, he told me, “It’s amazing how God works. I’m a Luhya and can hardly speak any Pokot. But God has me pastoring in West Pokot district!”
Monday morning we headed out on our adventure. While waiting at Makutano for our matatu to fill – it took almost an hour – a Swahili CD played over and over. Our conductor joined in unabashedly, singing songs such as “Nothing But the Blood” and “What a Friend We Have in Jesus”. Finally, all the seats filled up.
As we headed northeast past Ortum, Geoffrey pointed out the limestone pit. We descended down the Kamadira slope – the steepest and longest in Western Kenya – leaving behind the lush, green vegetation of the higher elevation. Continuing our descent through Marich Pass, the temperature got noticeably hotter. Most passengers shed their jackets. At a police roadblock an officer sought refuge under the shade of a tree. He held a Dasani bottle of water.
Our conductor, who knew Geoffrey, pointed out the nearby South Turkana National Reserve. He told us that lions sometimes roam the area. In fact, I saw many men carrying a bow and “kotit” (“arrows" in the Pokot language).
