We are gathered together on a warm day in Kenya. It's close to dusk, and we are about to watch a group of Masai warriors dance. I have tagged along with my friend to join a group of retirees who are on a luxury safari in Amboseli National Park. They are to be treated to a traditional dance where the warriors jump and sing of conquests. But I did not come to Africa to watch dances, I came to see the animals. This evening my neck aches and I am tired.

The bonfire has been lit and the warriors start to arrive. The Masai warriors are young men with lean bodies. Their hair is interwoven with long strings that are plaited. As a result, they look like they have dozens of long thin braids against the back of their head. They stand and walk, tall and proud.

The gentleman seated next to me barters with a Masai for a spear. But the Masai takes a liking to my five-dollar digital watch. This is the watch I depend on to get me places on time, to catch my plane - to keep me American. The Masai touches my watch and asks to hold it. I don't know why I hesitate. By the time I decide to let the Masai have the watch, the Masai has lost interest. But I feel a hand on my head. I look up to see another smiling Masai warrior stroking my blonde hair, playing with my thick, long braid. "Nzuri sana," he says, which means "very good" in Swahili, one of the many language of East Africa. Gently he takes my reluctant hand to his own head as he gracefully bows down. I stroke his rough, matted braids and smell the fires and outdoors in his hair. "Nzuri sana," I smile.

I am finally awake now and not so sore. I will now watch this warrior dance.

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