THREE DAYS IN A MUD HUT WITH THE MASAI TRIBE (MARA MASAI)

Writing this post, in retrospect, is one of the most fun entries so far in 60 days in Africa.  The personable Masai Tribe, famous for its antiquated yet colorful costumes and adherence to a cattle based culture, has so much going on day-to-day in terms of provoking your senses that for a writer, it is hard to know where to begin.

So my beginning is at dusk, after an all-night nine hour ride from Kampala to Kisamu, a five hour continuation ride to Narok from Kisamu, and a final three hour leg to the edge of the Masai Mara National Park.

Oddly, I am not far from where I left a little over a week ago when departing Arusha for Mwanza at the southern shore of Lake Victoria.  Now the encirclement is nearly complete.  Arusha is southeast of me now, Lake Victoria having been circumnavigated, with only the Masai Mara National Park and The Serengeti Plain laying between stops.

Upon arrival at Ewangan Masai Cultural Village – merely two kilometers outside the Sekenani Gate of the Masai Mara National Park – I am introduced to James Ole Lesaloi.  James and I had communicated by e-mail previously, and he had responded to my inquiry about experiencing a genuine Masai living experience.  I had been warned many times about being treated to a Masai Hollywood song and dance show, as loosely experienced in Swaziland nearly six weeks previously.  It feels as if we have known each other at length already, and our intro is redundant.

James wastes little time with words.  His modus operandi is to immerse me within village life immediately.  This begins with a welcome of African tea, essentially a homegrown brew of locally sourced herbs and Kenyan tea leaves that tastes very much like chai tea.

I am quickly adorned with the traditional Shuka, the orange or red shoulder robe the Masai are famous for, and hustled off to the kraal (almost like corral).  Each village – and there are many within easy walking distance, holding from 4 to 100 families – has this at its center.  It is meant to protect sheep, goats, and cattle at night while the Masai sleep.

They are made of sturdy wooden branches, sometimes bound with wire, interwoven to form an impenetrable barrier even to lions..  At times the kraal will be ringed with acacia thorn cuttings up to four feet thick and six feet high, to keep lions from leaping over for a quick and easy meal.

There are four families in Ewangan village totaling 32 people.  James is the elder here, though not a chief.  He is one of the more accomplished Masai men locally, being responsible for the construction of an area well in 1999 (prompted by the outbreak of typhoid fever), the local health clinic, and the internet/learning center as part of an NGO enterprise known as Semadep (SEkenani MAsai DEvelopment Project).  Among the partners in this entity are the global computer giant, Cisco.

It is the job of the women to carry water from the well to the individual family huts.  To do the cooking.  Collect the firewood.  And build the huts.  The huts are made from vertical poles driven stoutly into the ground, interwoven with horizontal saplings, with a sturdy pole or small timber roof.  This frame is covered with a “sticky mud” combination of dirt, water, cow dung, and ash to promote water repellency.

Interestingly, women build the huts.  It is thought by the Masai that a man would go insane building such a hut or attempting to climb on or repair the roof.  I had to work very hard not to snicker at this revelation.  It seemed very convenient, for starters.

The men, in turn, herd the cattle and sheep and goats.  They protect the animals. They build and repair fences.  They build the fires.  And they provide the leadership (chief, blacksmith, and medicine man).  Only the midwife is in a position of female based authority amongst the Masai.

Cattle are everything to these vibrant folk.  A wife costs 10 cattle.  A good female cow that can provide both milk and continuous offspring will bring $500 from cattle traders in Nairobi.  A large steer may bring $500 also.  The average cow is likely to bring in $250 to $300 on the average.  The grazing land (entirely owned by the Masai, who covertly use the National Park lands also, but only from dusk to dawn) is entirely free.

The cattle provide meat, milk, hides, blood for food supplements, and eventually cash to the Masai.

The men and women dress quite a bit the same.  Men wear a Shuka or outer robe, around both the waist (over underwear or swimsuit type jams) and the shoulder.  They also wear mostly car-tire sandals (James, being the innovator that he is, wears desert type chukka boots instead).  Their kit is completed with a knife, a walking stick, a Rungu or “knocking stick,” bows and arrow when on walkabout or herding, spears, and beaded jewelry with tiny metal plates that makes a very pleasant chime when in motion.

Women differ with the addition of a marrida or skirt.  In addition, defying the agelessness of the Masai uniform, these days a cell phone is part of any kit carried or worn by a Masai -- no matter what their gender.  This serves two purposes.  To act as a walkie talkie when communication in the presence of wild animals is necessary, and to serve as a money system with electronic transfer of funds through a digital system known as M Pesa.  Thus cash is often not necessary in Masai circles.

It takes awhile to see the pattern.  But the vast majority of Masai are missing two of their front teeth, either top or bottom.  This began 200 years ago with the outbreak of disease.  The teeth were removed so afflicted Masai could take medicine without having to open their mouths.  It has since become a custom.  The practice also helps to identify Masai from 42 other tribes that take up residency in Kenya.

During the first night – though I am quite unaware of it – we experience a number of visitors.  Zebras this time.  They generally will come in or near the villages, knowing it is safe territory – an area the lions and other predators are reluctant to enter.  The first warning comes from Masai dogs.  They make one type of growl with harmless animals such as Zebras.  Quite another (angry with high pitched urgency) when lions are present.  In that case, each able bodied male quickly makes his way out of his family hut, fully armed and prepared to drive the intruders off with deadly force.

“Family” is a rather loose concept with the Masai.  It is not always nuclear family based.  Many times, a close relative will reside within a family hut, even though their own parents or siblings may not be all that far away.  Many young men are sponsored by families not of their own blood.  Marriages are either arranged, or worked out naturally amongst couples themselves, but always from a different tribe.  Intermarriage between members of the same tribe (and especially if you have the same surname) is strictly forbidden).

My Swahilo style meal the first evening consists of thick maize dough ugali (like a very solid mashed potato mixture), endless chai African tea, spaghetti type noodles with an overlay of thin-sliced carrots, cabbage, green peppers and tomatoes, and a mash of lemon soaked kale that tasted in the end very much like spinach.

I pass on any goat/sheep/steer meat as protein content, being disposed toward a very strong seafood preference.  My second dinner was fried potatoes and pop (a doughy mashed potato mixture made from maize flour) and a stew combining onions and tomatoes and small portions of goat meat.

Breakfast is composed of thin pancake chapatis with a distinct garlic flavor, more chai tea, coffee, bananas, bread and butter, sausages, and fried eggs.  The luncheon meals consisted of noodles , chai tea of course, and either tomato and onion sauce, or the previously described mix of carrots, cabbage, tomatoes, and green peppers.   In all cases, the food is substantial and very tasty, without being filling.  It was prepared by Angela, the village pre-school teacher.

My second day with the Masai begins with a visit to the local pre-school.  The 3 and one-half to 12 year-olds, divided into three ranks, start at approximately 9 AM and continue until early afternoon.  Theirs is a combined single classroom, and very spartan.

Sixteen desks seating two students each (three in a pinch) serve as focusing platforms when the children are not in motion.  Which they frequently are.  I did not see a blackboard.  Nor much evidence of writing materials, or pencils.  Angela (the cook) is a very enthusiastic teacher.  The youngsters are only too happy to get a break from their regular learning, to entertain the Mzungu with singing, poems, recitations, the Kenya National Anthem, and an amusing question and answer period.

A walkabout is the next order of business on my partially arranged agenda.  We tour the vast areas outside the village where cattle are herded and watered.  Most of the grassland at this time of year is dry and brown.  What water remains for the cattle is a slow, brownish trickle.  They drink enthusiastically from this meager resource anyway.

I am introduced to the “Sausage Tree.”  It has pod-shaped fruit, which, when mixed with honey and water and sugar and left to ferment for five to seven days, results in Masai beer.  Quickly followed by the “African Green Heart Tree” – for cleaning the teeth, and providing antiseptic relief to minor cuts and burns.  The “Sandpaper Coder” Tree follows.  Its rough leaves are used for cleaning stained fingernails, smoothing walking sticks as a sort of sandpaper, and acting as a friction agent in the start of fires from scratch.

Of much greater interest, is having a huge ball of fresh elephant dung pointed out.  Then being told it is often boiled, and the residue liquid utilized to soothe the bellies of babies with upset stomachs.  I find myself thinking: Who was the genius who first figured this solution out as a remedy for indigestion?

Lessons with a Masai bow and arrow soon follow.  The bow doesn’t seem powerful enough to have much draw to it.  And the practice arrows seem to float and fall back too much into the wind, like a plane in the process of stalling.  But when armed with iron tips, they become lethal weapons.  I fired one about eighty yards as if targeting a lion that never went more than four feet off the ground, steady as she goes all the way.  I came away with renewed admiration for primitive technology.

There is hardly any rest time back at the village before James has a venture in to “town” organized.  This consists of a short walk, first to what is termed the small shopping area where basic meal necessities are available, followed by a ten-minute walk to the large(r) shopping area.  Here one finds more substantial foodstuffs, cold liquids (including beer, mercifully), auto parts, small engine repair facilities, and the departure point for most public transport back to Narok, Kisamu, and Nairobi.

100 yards beyond is the Sekenani Gate to Masai Mara National Park.  This is Kenya’s most famous animal reserve.  I am lucky to be here in the quieter and reduced-cost low season.  The high season, from roughly June to October, is already sold out.  All lodge space is gone for this upcoming tourist rush until almost Christmas.  It is one of Kenya’s cash cows, in the same way that The Serengeti and Ngorongoro Crater is to Tanzania.  Park entry fees cost $80 per person per day.

The Mara Masai has the Big Five in abundance – lions, leopards, water buffalo, elephants, and rhinos – but it is “The Migration” which draws visitors here as opposed to other nearby parks.  Each year, starting in April, 1.3 million wildebeest follow the green grass sprung loose by seasonal rains northward from their December to April base in the southern Serengeti to the Mara Masai.  Then return come November in a 2000 kilometer round trip.

 

There are legendary pictures (both still and moving) of these herds being so massed together at the Grumeti and Mara Rivers, that they trample each other attempting to cross.  In some years, twenty to thirty thousand of them will drown in rain swollen waters or be eaten by waiting crocodiles.  Yet the Circle of Life continues.

The crossing takes place regardless year after year, both coming and going according to the season.  It is the greatest mammal migration on the planet (though the 10-million strong fruitbat migration is numerically superior).  I am saddened that it will not be within my window of opportunity to see this grand spectacle.

On the way back to the village, James rather modestly points out three samples of his leadership initiatives from the last decade – the multi-village well, the internet/learning center, and the health center.  Along the way, I witness a rare planting of olive trees, their carefully organized and irrigated rows well-protected from four-legged poachers by a strong wire fence with stout wooden anchors every eight feet or so.

Most fruits and vegetables at the villages have to be imported.  The soil nearby is fertile enough, and water is in sufficient quantity for at least semi-regular irrigation.  The problem is free-range animals.  Zebras, goats, sheep, rabbits, the occasional wildebeest, giraffes, and especially elephants will strip a garden bare before it gets two inches off the ground.  There is not enough fencing to go around (or sufficiently strong enough) to protect against such intruders.

Before another of Angela’s pleasing dinners, I get a chance to watch the local children play soccer.  They do not have an inflatable leather ball.  Which is probably fortuitous, considering the profligacy of thorny acacia bushes and trees nearby.  Instead the children fashion what is called a Juala Ball – ingeniously prepared from rolled up plastic bag wrappers, covered with elastic socks for the bounce and shape factor, and bound evenly with nylon string to keep the whole package together.  It is surprisingly reactive and live as a sporting utensil.

The evening concludes with more chai African tea, and a Masai Holy Fire – fire begun with a Sandpaper Coder Tree twig, spun back and forth into a red cedar plank base, until the resulting friction gives off a spark or two.  This is carefully screened from wind, cultivated with breath, and fueled with a bird’s nest, dried grass or clump of dried-out elephant scat.  The ceremony is saved for special occasions, and to keep Masai youth in contact with traditional means of survival.  For the bulk of occasions, matches are used to create fire.

Around the campfire, I learn of a major issue amongst the Masai people from James’ nephew, Kermut.  He is one of those well-traveled and multi-lingual Masai, who went to school for two years in Utah, completed his Bachelor’s Degree at the University of Oregon in Eugene, and is now working at his Master’s Degree in Conflict Resolution at the U of O as well.  He hopes to work for the United Nations or The Gates Foundation in Seattle eventually.

That issue as explained to me was that, even though the Masai are the most visible of the Kenya population groups (and the most heavily promoted), as a collective they do not benefit economically from the hordes of tourists that come to Kenya and her national parks – ironically in large part to see the Masai.

This is because the Masai are relatively poor, they are said to generally lack the education and skills needed by lodges and other provisioners of the tourist trade, and many of the jobs are filled by decision makers who are decidedly not Masai.  These bureaucrats and managers from Kisamu, Narok, Nairobi and elsewhere generally operate on the nepotism system.

They perform favors for friends and relatives and engage in the “I’ll scratch your back, you scratch mine” framework for handing out jobs.  The Masai end up on the losing end, even though they are the locals living closest to park lodges and have the greatest knowledge of the local landscape.

The only jobs that engage Masai in numbers representative of their portion of the population within the Mara Masai are park rangers and safari drivers.  The park ranger job is difficult (let alone dangerous, since it involves battling armed poachers) and requires special knowledge of park lands in detail.  The driving jobs are seasonal.  This is one reason James is working on improving educational initiatives for Masai on the village level, so that tribesmen will qualify for more employment opportunities.

On my final day in the village prior to an afternoon departure for Nairobi, I get a chance to see seven Masai warriors perform traditional dances for my exclusive benefit.  Included in this performance is the high jumping “Lion Dance.”  Watching the vertical leap of these colorful and bejeweled youth, I could not help but think: Where are the NBA scouts hiding? The show was quite athletic, if not artistic.

The young men are all graduates of the circumcision rites of passage, which each Masai male must undergo around the age of 15 or 16 (instead of one week of age as in the United States).  There is quite a ceremony surrounding this transition to manhood. He is prepped in advance, washed, and given special clothing.  When facing the knife itself, the youth must not cry out or flinch his muscles.  To do so humiliates himself and his family, and ostracizes him from society up until the age of 30 or so.

The operation takes approximately 30 seconds.  The young men tell me they hope the knife has been sharpened and the procedure is over quickly.  Afterward, they are honored at a great feast, and given gifts of cattle and sheep.  They are not allowed to do difficult work, but instead are given about 21 days to heal, and then isolated for the most part for up to 3 months.  Upon return from this less-than-complete isolation, they are ready to take on the full complement of adult responsibilities.

Upon parting, I am made sport of a final time by these engaging, hard working, humorous, personable, and highly affectionate people.  They call me a “Olkirokoi.”  That means one who is a traveler, who doesn’t stay home, doesn’t have cows or sheep or goats, and does not worry about their family (or preparing for the future).  It is a tag I take with much light heartedness.  If only they knew how strongly I am considering having this tattooed on my forehead!