Life in Arusha is fun - meals out at weekends, trips away on off-duty days, Via Via, Maasai Camp, Maasai Market. The idea of swapping all that for a hut with no British toilet, shower, electricity, hair straighteners  and worst of all, no mobile phone signal, did not sound tempting! I was booked up though and, ever the poor student, was not about to waste the money I had paid!

So having been out the night before until 5am, my fellow student Liz, or Lizzie/Eliza as she affectionately became known during the week, packed our bags and waited, bleary eyed for the arrival of our Maasai guide Lewis at 7am. He turned up in  a skirt, which didn't allay any of my misconceptions about this week. I had encountered a few inebriated Maasai men at Via Via and Maasai Camp and had come to the conclusion that along with the skirts, they had big feet and smelled funny (a smell I came to learn was the smell of Maasai BBQ goat).

We set off for the bus station.  I tentatively asked Lewis if there was any mobile signal in Engaruka to which he replied "Yes, you walk for 3 hours and then climb a big tree".  This at the time seemed a possibility to me, just to hear the reassuring voices of my friends and family.

The bus station was as crowded as ever and like bees round honey the touts swarmed to us, with Lewis in his Shuka, they kept a polite distance and used less aggressive terms, I was also pleased to hear them shout "Maasai" in the same sinister inviting tone as they shout "Mzungu".  I thought Hey Maasai we have common ground, they label you too!  The bus filled up gradually over a couple of hours and I practised my Kiswahili with the mobile traders, Lizzie also received the first marriage proposal of the week from a sunglasses seller, which she declined although undeterred he came back to ask a second time.  Lizzie and I were the only Mzungus on the bus and quite a novelty from the stares.  I had a close encounter with a chicken, I concluded this was tomorrow's tea for the passenger in front of me.

The bus journey was hot, it was also really social for the passengers, everyone seemed to know each other and it was quite entertaining watching everyone fit in, the conductor used the windows for exits and at busy times so did the passengers.  I live in central London and rush hour commuters just can't compare with the ability of the Engaruka bus passengers to maximise space. 

Arriving at Engaruka we set off for our home with Lewis giving us a running commentary, by now we were referred to as "old wife" and "young wife"... I got the title of old wife being the proud owner of 35 years of life - practically a bibi in Maasailand.

So this was it, the bit I was dreading, my cow dung hut. This was the part of the experience I had refused to think of in the UK, so it was with some trepidation I went inside. No amount of thinking could have prepared me for the neatness of my new home though, we had beds made of sticks, mattresses with our own shukas (they are really soft and homely - I like them now, wouldn't wear one but great as a blanket! ), a dining room and best of all a kind of outside privy which Lewis referred to as the "mzungu present box" (and yes it had wrapping paper on part of it!).  The bad things were it was really dark (bring a good torch); no mirrors (what is it with Tanzania and mirrors?) and there was a spider on the wall (I'm an English girl; it's our culture to scream at spiders!) - I breathed deeply and remembered the mantra my friend repeated to me "spiders are our friends, spiders are our friends".   

So settling in over, we got down to milking goats and cows, the girl who helped us was so quick at this, she could empty a goats udder in about 60 seconds, I managed a teaspoon in about 5 minutes with several dissenting moos from the cow.  The Maasai children were scared of us and I spent the rest of the evening chasing them and falling about laughing at their screams of terror.  After a walk in the pitch black to the local off licence later in the week for Konyagi, I realised why, mzungus glow in the dark!

We were also given Maa lessons, with the help of Lewis' Uncle Samuel; he terrified me, he growled and shouted the Maasai words and I really wanted to please him through sheer fear.  I did remember how to use the greetings, for which I was rewarded with a nod of the head from Uncle Samuel. Lessons progressed and somehow he became less scary after I got him drunk on Konyagi and he passed out topless under the Mango tree!

Day 2 was the first day of placement and I was nervous, not knowing what to expect.  We walked to the dispensary accompanied by Lewis and were introduced to the nurses there.  One nurse had a good command of English and the other was Maasai, she did speak Kiswahili and Maa but had very few English words.  Communication is not just about speech, some signals are universal, you just have to look at things a different way and we managed fine to understand what was required. She really improved my injection technique, something I had always been nervous of in the UK.

The time at the dispensary was great.  Maasai men are taught not to show pain and when you are cleaning deep wounds with no anaesthetic it is strange to just dig away at the pus and clean it with neat iodine and have the recipient smile at you like you've just given him Coco Pops rather than jabbed without regret at the inflammatory mess that is between his toes.

There were lots of Practice Nurse tasks - adult and child vaccinations; depot injections for birth control (slightly controversial amongst the Maasai); wound dressings; malaria treatment and dispensing of medication.  One nurse was undertaking diagnosis and prescribing in the same role as a Nurse Practitioner in the UK which was a good opportunity to compare techniques.

The baby weighing clinic with Uncle Samuel was too cute for words and so many babies.  I also witnessed a lot of health promotion - not just verbal guidance but posters and booklets too.  There was STD testing, Tetanus prophylaxis, free folic acid, infection control principles and medical record keeping.  The care I witnessed at the dispensary was evidence based, person centred and regulated, it was a really neatly run centre and I felt honoured to be a part of it.

There were so many experiences during the week it's hard to know where to start. We visited the spiritual healer and had our stones read (don't lie to him, the stones will tell on you!);  jumped and waded across rivers to get to work and were given piggy backs across swollen temporary rivers when the rains came; watched scorpion bites being traditionally healed; were greeted and accepted by the villagers; drank warm soda; chatted with Maasai women and found common ground laughing secretly about the similarities in men from both our cultures; made bead bracelets; were humbled by Maasai womens' strength and the hardness of their lives; learnt that white women really can't dance; discussed the value of education; relished in cold showers and home cooked natural food; played with children and fell asleep under the stars; took a chicken to be culled in a Topshop carrier bag then plucked and cooked the chicken with chips for our fake Maasai husband; created a Maasai children's choir whose only song was "The Lion Sleeps Tonight"; trekked to the sacrificial healing place and watched a goat sacrifice (lots of male bonding); ate all the parts of the goat except its eyes, brain and horns; took part in a Tsoto, where the warriors jump high to attract the mamas and make territorial noises to let other warriors know you are theirs (they laugh when you explain in the UK, the woman chooses the man); learned the art of raising eyebrows to communicate and said a heartfelt goodbye.    

There were many conversations with Lewis about the differences in culture and he was respectful of both cultures, explaining Maasai beliefs but being aware of the vast difference between their and our beliefs.  During this week I was challenged emotionally and personally, the life here is at times harsh but has a simplified beauty that is a real privilege to experience.  I smiled (a lot), laughed, felt accepted and welcomed and at times, felt sad and homesick but I never did need to trek and climb that tree.