Moving Day!

I’ve made many friends here in Kenya. Most black, some white, a notable canine and our bovine. Momma Grey, I have named our sweet girl, has a white star on her head, tough horns and is with child! From day one, it was clear we had a special thing going on. It began by walking the well-trod sand paths in search of her peaceful, cud-chewing face. Soon, I daily approached her at pasture to rub her nose and talk anything over to her patient ears. Now, I casually feed, clean, read books, and snuggle up to her soft hide. The school children gawk and laugh. I don’t blame them: I am friends with a cow, and I am unafraid of the horns as so many of them are.

Despite our mutual enjoyment, she does happily snort at the sound of my voice, I was never given the task to take her to pasture. Kenyan Momma and Pastor were afraid I did not have the strength. I respectfully accepted this.

However, this week…

All the men on our property took a day trip. The children came to play football in Momma Grey’s grazing field. The time has come! She takes my lead well and we set off in search of “grassy” areas. I tie her to a palm near some neighboring huts. She immediately gets to munching, swishing her tail happily. Success! Woah, Momma Grey is on a mission. She is definitely eating for that little one in her belly. Holy heck, she is in a distinct trajectory clearing green stuff.

Suddenly, a chorus of Swahili pipes up from behind the mud walls of a hut. Women run from their house waving their arms violently, then, pointing at the greens spewing from Momma Grey’s mouth.  Their crop….darn.

Quickly, I prove that I understand. I pick up the lead rope, click my tongue to get her attention and take a power stance. All of my thigh strength and by body weight are just enough to counter the interest Momma Grey has in her expensive feast.

The ladies nod in approval and return to their huts, say one. The laugh lines dig deep into this woman’s otherwise seamless skin. She has a 2 tooth smile and a very granular, soft voice. Through body shimmies and grunts we determine a suitable tree to tie our lady cow. She hobbles toward me in thanks and I’m fairly certain she welcomed me to her house to enjoy a laugh about the whole thing. Unfortunately, house duty calls and “dinner is not going to cook itself”, as they say. We exchanged names, hand shakes and toothy/toothless goodbyes.

“The cow, she has been moved!”, is pastor’s first remark upon returning home.

“Yes, Momma Grey and I walked together this afternoon.”
“You! You are a strong Lady.” And he laughs the heartiest I've heard since I arrived.