The White Masai: My Exotic Tale of Love and Adventure
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The runaway international bestseller is now an American must-read for lovers of adventure, travel writing, and romance. Corinne Hofmann tells how she falls in love with an African warrior while on holiday in Kenya. After overcoming severe obstacles, she moves into a tiny hut with him and his mother, and spends four years in his Kenyan village. Slowly but surely, the dream starts to crumble, and she hatches a plan to return home with her daughter, a baby born of the seemingly indestructible love between a white European woman and a Masai. Compulsively readable, The White Masai is at once a hopelessly romantic love story, a gripping adventure yarn, and a fine piece of meticulously observed social anthropology.
an AIDS test. That’s a bolt from the blue and knocks the wind out of me, but I’m prepared to do it. He gives me several bottles containing liquid that we should apply to the scabies three times a day and tells me to call back in three days’ time for the results of the test. Those three days not knowing are the worst thing of all. The first day I sleep a lot and go to bed early with Napirai. The next day the phone rings and it’s the doctor for me personally. My pulse is racing as I take the
turn up holding some of our flysheets. I chat to them happily, and they all want to hear my story. Almost all of them buy something. I’m pleased enough with our first day, although I realize we’re going to have to do something to make ourselves more noticeable. The next day I suggest to Lketinga that he goes out and stick a flysheet in the hand of every white person he comes across. He’s the sort of person people notice. It works. The Indian next door is mystified when he finds all the tourists
is only one answer: he feels exactly the same! Christmas day. But with temperatures of 104 degrees in the shade, there is hardly much of a Christmassy atmosphere. I make myself as attractive as possible for the evening and put on my best holiday dress. At our table we order champagne as a celebration, but it’s expensive and bad and served too warm. By ten o’clock Lketinga and his friends still haven’t shown up. What if he just doesn’t come today? Tomorrow is our last day and the following one
town I bump into Jutta. Obviously we have to have chai together and swap news. She wants to come to our wedding. She’s currently living with Sophia, another white woman who’s recently moved to Maralal with her Rasta boyfriend. She tells me to call in. We whites need to stick together, she says jokingly. Lketinga’s in a bad mood because we’re laughing a lot and he doesn’t understand anything as we’re speaking German. He wants to go home so we say goodbye. This time I risk the jungle track, but the
Homecoming For Three Along the road Lketinga picks up two warriors, and after more than five hours we get to the great Wamba River. It’s notorious for quicksand that becomes active at the slightest drop of water. The Mission lost a car here years ago. I stop in stunned amazement at the steep slope down to the river – and there’s water in it! Unperturbed, the Masai get out and stroll down to the river. The water’s not deep no more than an inch or so, and a few sandbanks protrude here and