ESTA
by Kristen Wawro
for grades 3-6
What a day. I'm so glad it's almost over. You see, it all started last night. Late in the night, the unsettling sound of wild animals, such as lions, leopards, elephants, and rhinoceroses, moving in the dark all around me, was pierced by the sound of my father's wife's scream. The baby has come. I know I should be happy, but there is a part of me that sags as I hear the cry. You see, Veronica, my father's wife, is not my mother. My mother, my two brothers, my sister, and I live in one hut . . .beside Veronica's hut, where she lives with her children. Here in Tanzania, it is common for a man to have more than one wife. My dad has two. I love my dad, and I love Veronica, but with the new baby, I know where Dad's attention will be.
So that was last night. Little sleep, and a nagging emptiness in my heart. But then, day broke and the beautiful sun appeared over the horizon. The land is so beautiful here. The sky is so blue, and the grass is so green. My family, and a few others, live together in a little village, the enyang. It is nice to be together, and nice to be surrounded by such beautiful land. I thank God every morning for my home, and my family. But this morning, it is hard to be so thankful.
After breakfast with my family, I head off to school. Although my feet are tired, my mind is glad for the half-mile walk to school. The fresh air helps to clear my mind.
"Jambo. Habari Ghani." Hello. How are you? the school teacher says to us.
Some answer "Great," and many echo with "nDio, nDio" However, today my joy is not coming so quickly, and it is hard to join in with the other students as they agree it's a good day, and a great day to learn.
Class begins, and I take out my book. All our lessons are in Swahili. It is so hard to speak one language, Maasai, at home, and another at school. But I am learning. Maybe this way I can someday go to Nairobi and speak with everyone else. So I practice my Swahili . . "Moja, mbili."
I am interrupted from my study by the sounds of snickers and laughter from a few seats behind my own. I turn around to see some of my classmates pointing at me and laughing. I try to ignore it, but I can't. You see, I know what they are laughing at. As Maasai, we have many traditions. One tradition is that of all the women shaving our heads. We do this very often. But, with all the commotion with Veronica and the new baby, we haven't had time to cut my hair in a long time. It's getting too long now. I wish that my hair was short like it is supposed to be.
Another thing is my earrings. As Maasai, we pierce our ears at the top of our ears, and again at the bottom of our ear lobes, and string some beads between the two. The larger and more elaborate the earrings, the better. Last week, when I was walking home, a lion began to chase me. I got away from it, but just barely. I was saved only by another lion running the other direction, which took this lion's eyes off me. I wasn't watching so closely where I was running, and I caught my earring on a low branch. The beads flew everywhere. What could I do? I just found the few I could, and made a new earring. It's not as nice and shiny as the rest of the girls'. Why does an earring have to matter so much?
But at least I have my necklaces. This is the greatest of our Maasai traditions. Every girl has necklaces around her neck. The older she gets, the more necklaces she gets. The richer she is, the nicer the necklaces, and the more necklaces she has. I have always loved my necklaces. They are so beautiful. So many beautiful colors in each necklace: red, blue, orange, green, and, my favorite, yellow. Every day, when I feel my necklaces, I smile. I know that someday I will make a beautiful bride. I am 12 years old. It won't be too many more years before I will get to wear the special headdress, showing that I am old enough to marry. I hope I can marry someone like my father . . . but I hope he doesn't have any other wives.
"Hey, you guys, look at my necklaces. I just got this new one last night. It's the biggest and the prettiest of any that I have ever seen. Don't you just love the purple color? Why, I think this necklace is even more beautiful than Esta's."
Soki's words cut like a knife. Why did she have to say hers was better than mine? I was so glad that school was done for the day. I picked up my reader, and began to run home as fast as I could. Not my necklaces, too. Isn't there anything special about me???
On my way home, I walked by my tree. You see, this tree is my tree, because whenever I want to be alone, I go to this tree. It is beautiful. I can climb its branches, or I can sit in its shade. Today, though, I just didn't think even sitting in my tree would help. I was just staring at my tree, my heart heavy, when I heard my mother's voice.
"Esta. . . Esta. . . Esta, it's time for you to go fetch the water. Please hurry."
Some days, I don't mind the four mile walk to fetch water. But today, every step was a hard one. But then, I looked at the sky. The sun was about to set, and the colors were so beautiful. Blues and pinks and purples and yellows. The sky made the stream look like a jewel glimmering in the sun light. As I bent over to fill my pitcher with water, I caught a glimpse of my reflection in the water. Behind me was Veronica. Our reflections looked so different. Veronica was shining and beautiful. My reflection was dull and boring. My face was not smiling, and my eyes were not dancing with joy. I turned and looked at her. She said "Esta, no matter what's wrong, remember Jesus and remember God, who created all this and gave us life."
I knew she was right. The rest of the walk home, Veronica and I walked arm in arm. My heart was finally dancing again within me. The stars have never looked so beautiful or so bright.
- What country does Esta live in?
- What were some of the traditions of her tribe? What was her tribe's name?
- What are some of the traditions that we have here in America? Which traditions do you like better? Esta's or ours? Why?
- Why do you think Esta felt the way she did? Have you ever felt like that? Why? What did you do about it? Where did Esta find her comfort?
- What do you think it would be like to live where Esta lives? Would you rather live there, or here in America?
ESTA
by Kristen Wawro
I. What a day!
1. Last night:
baby born
Dad's two wives: Veronica, and mom
2. Walk to school:
Thank God; it's hard today
3. School
A. Swahili (Maasai at home)
B. Made fun of
-hair
- earrings (lion chase)
- necklaces (Soki and her necklace)
4. Walk home
look at tree
5. Fetch water (4 miles)
see reflection with Veronica
"Remember Jesus and remember God"
Props: water pot, and wrap for head to balance water pot (take a towel even. Roll it like a hot dog, and then roll it in a circle around the crown of the head. Balance the pot on it). If you can find any authentic jewelry, can use that too.
Answers to Questions:
- Tanzania
- Maasai tribe
- shave heads
- long earrings from top of lobe to bottom
- many necklaces, accumulate with age and wealth
- father have more than one wife
3. American traditions:
- school
- church
- play sports
- answers will vary!
4. Esta felt left out, and not good enough. The rest of the answers will vary
5. Answers will vary
Sources: Children Just Like Me, by Barnabas and Anabel Kindersley. New York: Dorling Kindersley, 1995.
Plus, my own knowledge of the Maasai tribe. Can get information from WWW
on Tanzania or Maasai.
?—à)4D[—ÅÇ3œyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyÐÒ;A‚†Îã% {wswsw{wnw(
$&üþ¬®ýÿ¼¾ßá í
ï
ÖØyyysssssssssssssssssssØÎÐÚÜ??};>cem×79ÌÎBDFHJyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyJLNPRTVXZ\ ^`bdfhjlnprtvxyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyxz|~?‚ˆšœ—ÁÎõ
+8Xku?¸ÈØyyyyyssyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyØö;=35LZm}ªÝ&1AXªÂÄ0‚yyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy‚› ?Ÿ¡£¥§©«—?±³m×¹»½¿ÁÃÅÇyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyÇÉËÍÏÑÓÕ×ÙÛÝßáãåçéëíïñóõyyyyyyyy yyyyyyyyyyyyyyyõ÷ùûýÿ
! # yyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy# % % AØJxØ‚Çõ# % BCDEFGHIJTimes New Roman\À«6'"*
^ï>4?ÐÏࡱá>þÿ þÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿ ÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿ ÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿ ÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿ ÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿCompObjÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿUÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿ