Women threw beads and necklaces around Sarah’s neck and arms. One woman draped a red shuka, like a toga, around her and the olakaria, red ochre, came next. They painstakingly drew designs over Sarah’s face and laughed. It must have looked comical! Sarah could only imagine. Francine held up a compact mirror. True enough; the red face paint glowed bright on her much paler complexion - in spite of the thick layers of dust she had accumulated from the day’s adventure.
   
   “Look good,” Nefa managed to say with much deliberation, pointing at Sarah, addressing the others. Now only women stood facing the fire, singing. Nefa smiled and pulled Sarah fully into the circle. The dance the women executed differed slightly from the male version. They rose up and down from their ankles, and their torsos pulsated back and forth with a more drastic shimmy. They sang ear piercingly loud. Sarah had difficulty mimicking the movements. The unfamiliar cadence made her feel dim-witted, but she tried her hardest to get it. Participation in the ritual seemed an important requirement of this life. Still, she knew she must look ridiculous next to the graceful lines and beautiful movements of the taller and leaner Maasai women.

   After the dance, Sarah asked, “What does this dance, this song, mean?”

   “God…give us…children!” Nefa proclaimed.

   Sarah darted out of the circle, covering her reddened face. The women cackled after her. One of them stated, in quite good English, how Sarah was too old to be an unmarried woman. And wouldn’t she dance with them again, this time asking their Engai, God, for a man, too?