The Maasai

The Maasai

We are driving along a barely marked road.

As usual, Glad sits beside the driver and I hog the back row with all my camera gear.

We are heading for a Maasai Kraal, on the invitation of one of the family elders, whom our guide knows personally. It is the last opportunity to meet this family here in the Serengeti National Park in Tanzania.

Tomorrow they will start their return hike to the Kenyan Masai Mara and later to the Amboseli National Park.

Along the way we are about to overtake two tall, lanky men, wrapped in red Toga like cloths. Their legs are a uniform gray from the sand whirling about them.

Our guide brings the Landrover to a halt and rapidly speaks to the two men in what I assume is Suaheli. Then he turns to me and asks permission to give them a ride.

The SUV is certainly large enough and I look forward to meeting these Maasai Warriors personally and up-close.

It turns out that both speak English quite well. One of the men, in fact, is a Veterinary doctor, having studied in London, while the other functions as his assistance.

A further lucky break is the fact that the Veterinarian is a Son of the family elder we are supposed to meet shortly.

A Maasai Veterinary doctor

and his assistant.

I particularly liked his hair decoration. 

The Doctor, med.vet.

with an ingenious (right ear) storage of his earnings.

“What are your names?” I ask. The veterinary tells me something which sounded like 'Lemuani' and his assistant's name was 'Sironka'.

“Since your families' wealth is judged by the number of cattle they possess, your job as a veterinarian must be very important” I said.

“Yes”, he replied: “Very important. I am called from family to family. It keeps me on the go. All the time.”

Pointing to his ear, where rolled-up bills are stored, I said with a smile: “Your job must also pay very well.”

“Not really” he pursed his lips. “I am a Maasai and it is expected that I help my people as much as I can. Mostly I am paid by being given a cow or a calf, so that when I need money I can sell them for a good price.”

For some time we drive in silence.

Out of the blue, Sironka says: “The name : 'Maasai' was given to us by God. It means: 'Work of God' ”

Lemuani just nods his head.

After an hour ride and some conversation we arrive at the Kraal. This semi-permanent structure is left in place to be used again on their return trip about a year from now.

Sturdy branches of an Acacia Thorn Tree surround a number of huts.

The construction material is cow- paddies, applied over a wooden inner structure.

Not all Maasai are 6 feet tall.

It is most disappointing that the Clan-elder and most of his men are out on the hunt for provisions for the up-coming hike. Only a few of the men are left behind to sell spears and trinkets to any tourists chancing by.

Did I buy some of these trinkets? You bet I did. Didn't buy a spear, but some necklaces."

The women folk, while they too are busy with the preparations for this move are, however, more than willing to talk to us, via the translations of our Guide and the newly found Veterinarian friend.

Glad referred to her as

The Sarah Bernhard

of the Maasai

This Lady seemed to be the "Clan-Mother".

When, through our Guide,  I asked her for permission to photograph,

she said with a sly smile: (in English)

"Okay! Hunnerd Dollars".

Our Guide told her that this was much to high a price.

She restated her demand:

"Okay! Ten Dollars."

This is what happens to your ear lobes

when your ear rings are too heavy.

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“You'd be surprised how much you can learn in a grave yard” I tell Glad.

She gives me to understand that she would rather not be part of this visit.

“I'll stay in the Rover” she assures me, “until you come back.”

I turn to our Guide and ask him to relay my request to visit a grave yard.

He slowly shakes his head and turns from the Vet to look at me.

“There isn't such a thing” he says softly.

“There isn't?” I ask in surprise.

“No” he says, “there really isn't!”

“When granddad dies, his body is covered with cow blood and fat and either placed atop a platform in a tree, or placed in an easily accessible place on preferably rocky ground for the 'scavengers' to come and in the shortest time there is nothing left of granddad.

The Vultures, Hyenas and similar will have done a good job.”

In the beginning this sounded pretty barbaric. On second thought I had to admit that our method of leaving the remains for the worms underground is not much different, nor more  "civilized."

Somehow the Maasai, men as well as the women, exude a sense of “Self”,   of “Pride” which makes it easy to believe that they consider themselves as “A Work of God.”

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