the butterfly people

On the vast rugged plains of the North where the long lonely road stretches itself towards the sacred desert mountain, the Samburu gather. With their pompous beadwork that hold their heads high, prismatic shukas draped across the shoulders of men and women, an otherwise plain terrain comes alive with color.

And it is in this vibrancy that they get their name The Butterfly People. Each color tells a story—of pride, of heritage, and of the land that cradles their ancient ways.

The Samburu are part of the Maa speaking community that includes the Maasai and Ilchamus. Every year the tribes meet in celebration of a culture that ties them together: The Maa Festival.

The men, tall and lean, clad in traditional regalia, stand in a semi-circle, singing and chanting. They launch themselves into the air, so high as of trying to rival the clouds above, in friendly competition and expression of strength and unity.

The songs they recite echo ancient tales of their ancestors who roamed the same land in the years of lore.

Women are not left out either. They join in the festivities, singing and nodding their heads in rhythm. Their intricate beadwork bounce along like they too can listen to the songs.

Morans dye their hair red and if you didn’t know any better, you’d think they are bleeding. Mostly they strut about, showing themselves off in pairs and groups.

In these moments – that last about three days – amidst the feasting and celebrations, the Maa tribes are a confederate. Nobody remembers the heat from the cruel sun that plagues the North.

Fearlessly, they embrace both their past and their future with a unity woven from the threads of history and hope.