As the sun sets on my year of service in Eldume, Baringo County, I find myself lingering in the memories – not just of projects and milestones, but of people, traditions, and quiet transformations that have left an indelible mark on me.
I arrived as a CorpsAfrica Volunteer with the usual excitement and uncertainty, not knowing that I would soon become immersed in the rich traditions of the Ilchamus people – a Maa-speaking community whose cultural depth quietly commands your attention. From the rhythmic beats of their dances, the colorful garments and ornaments, to the sacred hush of initiation ceremonies like ‘lmuget’, I was not just a visitor; I was invited in.
Lmuget, in particular, was not something I witnessed from a distance. I was part of it. This was where men from a specific age-set retreat into the forest for a week to bond, reflect, and strengthen their brotherhood. I stood alongside community members during one of their most sacred rites of passage, a space often guarded and deeply revered. That honor taught me more about unity, bravery, and legacy than any textbook ever could.
But service was never only about the cultural immersion. It was about creating something useful, sustainable, and community-owned. With the village’s support, we came up with the Tents and Chairs project and established a rental business. What seemed simple on the surface, just tents and chairs, became a vehicle for mindset change. We moved beyond the handout mentality and stepped into business thinking, community planning, and ownership. We debated pricing strategies, discussed reinvestment, and even envisioned scaling up with a tuk-tuk for transportation. I watched community members not only embrace the idea but run with it — managing bookings, tracking funds for accountability purposes.
The journey wasn’t without bumps. From managing expectations to navigating early resistance to new ideas, we learned together. We grew. I saw what patience, persistence, resilience, and a little faith can do.
To the next cohort stepping into service: don’t rush it. Spend time listening. Observe before you act. Learn the community’s rhythm. True impact takes time, and the most powerful changes are often the quietest – The kind that happens at the back of a woman’s meeting or in a casual evening chat by the fireside. Pick a small project, but make it big in heart. And always ask yourself, does the community want this too?
As I prepare to leave, I don’t feel like I’m closing a chapter. I feel like I’m handing over a pen. The story continues — with the committee managing the project, with the youth now dreaming bigger, and with me, forever changed.
Eldume gave me more than a place to serve. It gave me a second home, a new way to see the world, and stories I will carry long after the tents are folded away.
