Travel Reference
In-Depth Information
In the distance, on a bare grassy bank, stood what I hoped would be welcoming hosts.
Ten men, utterly naked except for loose pieces of cotton covering only the bare essentials,
stood guard to a corral in which several hundred head of long-horned cattle lowed. Smoke
poured out of campfires where cow dung was burnt as way of protection against mosqui-
toes, both for the cows and people. As I jumped off the boat, an enormous hand appeared
out of the crowd to help me up.
It was the biggest hand I've ever seen, and unsurprisingly attached to a behemoth of a
human being. His name was Sirillo, and he pulled me onto the island like he was lifting a
rag doll. Seven feet tall, in his spare hand he carried a spear that seemed like a toothpick
compared to his massive muscular frame. Slung across his naked back was an AK-47 with
a feather poking out of the barrel for effect. 'Welcome!' he said with an honest smile.
At twenty-two, Sirillo was the head of the clan youth, and, leaving the elders to relax,
was in charge of keeping the cattle safe and settling matters of the community. I looked
around. Naked children, covered in ash, were busy rubbing more into the hides of the
cows. Some of the young men were wrestling each other whilst women, bare-breasted,
looked on to decide who would be their husband. Boston and I gleefully joined in the pro-
ceedings, covering ourselves in ash and trying to keep our dignity whilst being thrown to
the deck by teenage boys twice our size. It was a moment of beautiful serenity, an island of
peace in a land ravaged by war. There were hundreds and hundreds of cows, just returned
from grazing and now pegged out with bells around their necks. Walking through them
was a perilous business, as horns, some of them five feet long, were shaken in disgust at
our intrusion. Some of the women were milking the cows, and would often drink straight
from the udders.
As Sirillo was showing us to a bare piece of grass on which we could pitch tents, a cow
began to piss nearby. Suddenly, there was a commotion and three grown men ran towards
the cow as fast as they could. But it was Sirillo that won the day. Pushing the other men
aside, he put his head straight under the cow and took what can only be described as a
golden shower. As I stood watching in utter disbelief, Ariike grinned wildly. Sirillo stood
back up and rubbed the urine from his eyes.
I was speechless.
'It's good for your hair,' said the giant.
'Makes it go red, and then the ladies like it.'
Still speechless.
'And, anyway, we don't like to wash in the river.'
'Why ever not?' I finally uttered.
'Too dangerous,' said Sirillo, looking solemn as he peered over his shoulder to the
mighty Nile. 'Too many crocodiles, they always eat people.'
