the real maasai

Apart from walking safaris, game drives and cozy nights nestled around the campfire, one of the more interesting things that we did in the Maasai Mara was to visit a local Maasai village.  One of the better known ethnic groups of Africa, the Maasai are semi-nomadic, cattle-keeping people who inhabit the vast scrubland in and around the game reserves of Kenya and northern Tanzania.  The Maasai follow various age-old customs that pertain to and influence everything from their dress (bright red clothing and intricate beaded jewelry), to their diet (heavy in milk and maize-meal), to their views about wealth (counted in terms of cattle and children -- in both cases, the more, the better), to their social organization (roughly determined by age).  A visit to the village of a Maasai tribe leaves you with a greater understanding of and appreciation for the people's pastoral lifestyle, which is incredibly uncomplicated and, in many respects, quite difficult.  For example, the children of the village where we visited must walk 12 kilometers, each way, to and from the nearest school.  The women dedicate an entire day each week to collecting water from the most nearby source -- they take all that their donkeys can carry back in one trip, which amounts to approximately 240 liters of water per family, per week. (Consider in comparison that, according to the U.S. Geological Survey, the average person in the United States uses an estimated 300-380 liters of water per day.)

The particular village that we visited was as basic and traditional as it gets.  Circular in layout, the center of the village was a large pen ringed by uneven timber poles and topped with razor wire, where the cows are kept for the night.  The pen was flanked on either side by two smaller corrals for keeping smaller livestock (sheep and goats). Around the pen sat a ring of low, earth-brown houses.  Six in all, they were made of skinny timber poles, smaller sticks, grass, mud and dung.  Beyond the houses was a fence of sorts primarily made from interwoven heaps of thorny branches from the native acacia tree.  This enclosure is all that protects the people and their livestock from wild animals at night.  No hospital, no post office, no school, no general store... three corrals, six mud houses and a fence made of thorny brush.  (Stop and think about that for a minute...)

We arrived at the village in the early evening.  One of the busiest times of the day, evening is the time when the older boys bring in the livestock for the night.  Before passing through the thorny enclosure of acacia, we were greeted by one of the village elders, as well as a group of very curious little boys who were delighted by Aman's camera and our week's worth of photos from the wild.  The older men showed us a deep reservoir that they had recently dug for collecting rainwater -- an effort to alleviate the village's lack of water.  For their part, the women brought us in one of their houses -- they showed us the open fireplaces in the center of the home used for cooking and the tiny adjacent rooms where the children slept on the floor, as chickens clucked and walked aimlessly about the open doorway.  Without windows, the house was dark and the air choking-hot and thick from the lingering smell of fires past.  Outside, the children walked up to us, smiling shyly and bowing slightly so that we could touch the tops of their heads, considered to be a sign of respect, their faces full of joy.  In all, a priceless experience and one that, perhaps, is best told by the pictures...