Peter Peta Lojakait grew up in the archeologically plenteous Turkana settlement of Lokori. His youthful days were balanced out between daylights of herding cattle and moonlights of festivities.

After ensuring all livestock resigned safely in their respective sheds, the compressed sequence of unhinged sportiveness began with a game called alogita. The rules were brutally simple. All the young men went into the forest each cutting down a branch that would serve as his insurance during the game. Once the branch was in your hand you had relinquished your neutrality and were subject to a beating from any of your peers. This sanguinary game was only the initiation. Joyous from ferociously whipping each other, the young men would slaughter a goat and apply the blood spurting out of its slit throat on their bodies. The sacrificed animal would then be skinned in preparation for feasting.

The next item on the itinerary was heading back to the village and chasing after damsels. The young ladies had their bare feet ready to run away from their mischievous captors . Once the lads caught up with them, they would all form a circle and begin a rigmarole of song and dance.

During one of these thrilling fetes Lojakait generated enough temerity to approach the girl he had been eyeing. Lucky for him, the interest was mutual and they by-passed the tedious validation from both their families. However, Lojakait had to part with dowry. He offered two sheep, one was solely to honor the woman who birthed the bride. The other one was to be shared among male elders.

Having secured his bride, Lojakait got back to seriously herding cattle to provide for his fresh family. Amidst this hurly-burly of trying to make ends meet, Lojakait’s entire community were ambushed by scandalous bandits known as Ngoroko who killed people, plundered land, and seized all livestock. Unarmed and caught off guard, Lojakait joined a large congregation of Turkana folk fleeing the carnage that descended upon them.

They sought refuge in Isiolo County where Lojakait and his family have lived for the past 30 years hogtied by poverty, emaciated by malnutrition and weakened by pestilence.

Now 70 and frail, all he looks forward to is the evening assembly of fellow elders under a tree where they leave all talk of their troubled lives and comfort each other in either light conversation, or sweet serene silence.