Mindy Budgor - Warrior Princess: My Quest to Become the First Female Maasai Warrior

skirt! is an attitude... spirited, independent, outspoken, serious, playful and irreverent, sometimes controversial, always passionate.

Copyright 2013 Mindy Budgor

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying and recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, except as may be expressly permitted in writing from the publisher. Requests for permission should be addressed to Globe Pequot Press, Attn: Rights and Permissions Department, PO Box 480, Guilford, CT 06437.

Some names and identifying details have been changed to protect the privacy of individuals.

skirt! is an imprint of Globe Pequot Press.skirt! is a registered trademark of Morris Publishing Group, LLC, and is used with express permission.

All photos by Mindy Budgor unless noted otherwise.

Project Editor: David LegereText Design: Sue MurrayLayout: Melissa Evarts

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication data is available on file.

ISBN 978-0-7627-9660-1

To Faith, Kinyi, Lanet, and Nic

Dear Reader,

The following is a true story about my quest to become the first female Maasai warrior. This is my personal perspective of what happened. Why a nice Jewish girl gets this thought in her head, and has a diehard desire to do this is your story to read. Ultimately, I believe this story belongs to all of us who have angst about finding the inner self. Names and dates have been altered to protect privacy, and to make the telling of the story comprehensive.

Best always, Mindy Budgor

Contents

Prologue: Dinosaur!

Deep in Kenyas Forest of the Lost Child, 9,799.9 miles from home and at least 50 miles from a toilet or electrical jack, I stared, my eyes bugged and unblinking, as trees toppled to the ground. Trunks fractured in half, leaving spiky shards of wood in their place.

A massive white tusk shot into the sky.

I screamed.

Dinosaur!

A gray, wrinkled butt appeared through the trees about twenty feet in the air. A tail whipped around angrily. Powerless, I watched the monster take a step backward, closer to camp. Closer to us. This journeyand life itselfwas about to come to a thunderous end.

Lanet, the leader of my tribe, grabbed hold of our beaded belts and yanked Becca, my partner in warrior training, and me backward. Jolting us from our paralysis, he tossed over our spears, pushed us out of camp, and ran off to join the other warriors. One of our tribe matesa buns-of-steel body with a sparkling smile and extra-long earlobes that wrapped around the top of each ear in Princess Leiastyle bunswaved for us to follow. The deep, heavy voices of the Maasai echoed through the forest, ooooooOOOOOO!!! oooooOOOO!! ooooooooOOOOO! OOO! OOO! OOOO! OOOOOOOOOO!! Sorr, HORR OLAG OLAG!!! SORR!!!!

With our thighs pumping and our beaded necklaces jingling, we ran after him, the tops of our spears guiding and protecting us from branches. We hopped over fallen trunks and shrubs and wove in and out like skiers gliding through trees. Ensuring that we were okay, the perfectly molded warrior turned his head every few seconds, giving us a bright, encouraging smile. Seconds later, he stopped in front of a mammoth tree. He smiled, nodded his head, and pointed his spear up the trunk.

I turned to Becca, panting like a golden retriever. He... he... wants us to climb the tree.

Go! Go! Go! I am not going to die on day damn one! This is NOT my time to go! she screamed, as she slapped my butt to get moving. Needing no more encouragement, I hustled up the tree as if my ass was on fire.

Becca and I had been escorted to our bush home only that morning. We were quickly assigned our first task: Chop branches until you cant chop anymore. And then chop some more. Given that this was Day One, Task One, and I was surrounded by a tribe of men with spears and swords, I decided for the first time in my life to follow directions now, ask questions later.

After three hours of nonstop chopping, I sat on the cold dirt for a much-needed rest. I surveyed the scene. Rays of light seeped through breaks in the dense canopy of leaves, babbling calls of colobus monkeys echoed in the trees, and Beccas curly bob bounced as her sword hacked at the joint of a branch.

I glanced at the palms of my burning hands. Blisters the size of half-dollarsthe result of a two-foot metal sword with a wooden handle furiously chafing my once-flawless skinhad already sprouted. My Red Dragon nail polish, however, was intact. When selecting the luxury items I would tow into the forest with me, the precious bottle of polish was nonnegotiable. The shiny red lacquer combined with fresh blisters gave my paw the ferocity of a lions. And if I didnt yet feel like the badass warrior princess I planned to become, the one who would show the Maasai tribesmen that women have a voice and power to match (nobodys ever accused me of aiming low!), at least I looked like her.

Fake it till you make it.

Becca sidled up to me, her arms piled with branches. Of course youre inspecting your nail polish. What are you going to do when an ape eats one of those treasured thumbs?

When Becca and I finally returned to camp (a generous term for the small patch of land that made up our communal living quarters), we were greeted by a three-foot fence surrounding it, made of a thousand crisscrossed branches.

I guess this is supposed to protect us from animals, Becca said.

Good luck to us, I said. An elephant could tear down this piece-of-shit fence with a pinky toe.

As Becca studied our new security system, I glimpsed a patch of leaves wiggling softly about a yard in front of us. Becca shook the fence lightly, causing the entire thing to wobble. Yeah. This is a piece of shit. But when its your time to go, its your time to go.

I didnt subscribe to Beccas hippy-dippy cest la vie attitude. My own worldview was much more aggressive. When death comes knocking, open the door, kick it in the nuts, and run for your life.

And thats when I saw it. Another movement in the trees. This time the leaves didnt just jiggle. An entire cluster of trees swayed like windshield wipers, right to left.

Only one day in the bush, and we were face-to-face with the enemy.