The Birthday Cake

A number of lessons have become apparent from those fourteen days in Kenya,  one of which involved a birthday cake.  

It’s a long drive from Nairobi to Mombassa and Maryann had arranged for us to stay overnight at Lion’ Hill Camp which overlooks the famous Tsavo National Park.   The camp, under thatch, is built on a hilltop overlooking the park entrance, and on arrival we watched two herds of elephant at watering holes below us. 

It was also the birthday of Sarah Ashcroft, our esteemed data technician who kept us, and the data, in impeccable order.  Several days previously Maryann had asked Dr. Elliud Muli , our philosopher, guide and friend, if he could call ahead and see if the camp kitchen could provide a surprise birthday cake. 

That night, sitting on the open verandah which served as a dining room, brushed by a cool breeze, the lights dimmed and out of the kitchen came a towering Masai warrior in full garb including his spear (his normal duties included camp security guard,) the cook, proudly holding the cake, and the kitchen helpers.  They circled the  table, singing “Happy Birthday,” after which Sarah was invited to cut a slice of cake for each of us.  The cook then cut a slice for every other person in the dining area, and the rest went back to the kitchen to share with the staff. 

Because in many parts of Africa one never eats alone.  Everything is shared, no matter how meager.   Archbishop Desmond Tutu writes about uBuntu, meaning, “I am because you are. “  The ancient Mayans had  a phrase, “En lac ech,” which translates as “You are the other me.”

The sharing of the cake was a potent reminder that we are interconnected,  interdependent. We cannot meaningfully exist without each other. 

As the late Stephen Covey argued, we get hung up all too easily on our independence, which can be self-centered and self-gratifying, forgetting that there is another way of being in this world. 

Honey bees of course are prime examples of this interconnection; a single bee cannot survive but for a short period without her community. And there is a larger lesson here as well.  As beekeepers we are focused on, passionate about, the glorious honey bee, yet hopefully we don’t think of bees in isolation.  We empathize with our colleagues who are equally passionate about bats, bird life, frogs and toads, soil, water, air … the list is long. 

Without empathy, without connection, each of us remains tied to a peripheral niche issue, our victories are small and temporary and the power of the whole is unrealized.   It is all too easy to do this in a society that regards divisiveness almost as normal but if we are willing to open our hearts to the passions of others  we might start a real dialogue and take steps towards the inclusiveness and solidarity necessary to tackle the enormous challenges that we face.  

Yes, we  can have our cake and eat it  – enough to fill our needs and enough to share.   That is the law of abundance, rather than the  fear of scarcity.   

Namaste.  I honor the light, the live and the love within you.