December 4, 2008; Arusha, Tanzania — Our group is back in Arusha and we are about to complete the last full day of the program. Right now we are luxuriating in a five-star hotel near the center of town just days after the end of an entire month on safari. It is too soon to process fully the experiences we have had—although I must say that lounging by the side of a pool, eating meals in a hotel restaurant, and sleeping in the comfort of a king-sized bed is as good a place as any to start. In fact, just being back in the urban intensity of Arusha and surrounded by every sort of modern amenity has, for me at least, led to a feeling of sensory overload. As happy as I am to be comfortable, pampered, and connected to the rest of the world, only now am I starting to fully appreciate the existence that the students and I have led this past month and just how extraordinary it really was.
On November 24th we arrived in Ololosokwan village in Loliondo, a rural area adjacent to the eastern boundary of Serengeti National Park. The safari was over and we were spending the final phase of the program in a Maasai community, each of us living with a different family. Our first two days were spent at the campsite, meeting with representatives of the Pastoral Women’s Council, a group that acts as legal and educational advocates for the Maasai in the area and who coordinates homes stays for visiting students. We also had presentations from the men and women in the community about the dynamics of Maasai life and what we could expect once we went off with our adoptive families. The group meetings had to be translated since many of the Maasai, especially the older generation, speak only Maa (the Maasai language). Apart from English, even our rudimentary Swahili was of limited use. On the day we were to be introduced to our families, we were led to the village and asked to stand in a row. The host mothers came along and selected us one by one. It was a bit like being picked for kickball back in elementary school. This was the first of the three home stays in which I participated, so like the students I was led off by my host mother.
Living in Maasai family for three days was incredible and I’m still not sure if afterwards I have learned more about the Maasai or about myself. I lived in a boma, which is a small compound of huts adjoining a cattle pen. Each hut houses a woman and her children. Each of these women is one of the wives of the man of the household who is in charge of the boma. Even after three days, I wasn’t sure whose children were whose. My host mother, Nadupo, appeared to be my age or maybe younger. Her children were often joined by their cousins who, because of their schooling, spoke Swahili and even some English and served as my conversation partners. We had translators assigned to us who would visit the various bomas and help the students and me communicate with our host families, but for me at least it was mostly the children who took me around and explained how I was to do my various chores.
Often I was glad to get outside the boma and do some work. The windowless huts are not exactly the most conducive places to healthy living. The walls and floor are made from dried cow dung and the roof is a wooden frame covered in dirt and thatch. There is almost no light inside and very poor ventilation. The interior was hot, smoky, dark, teeming with flies, and I could not stand up without hitting my head on the ceiling. I slept on a wooden board eighteen inches above the ground and with two baby goats living underneath (no joke). Getting outside was a relief from all of this, except of course for the flies. That was probably the part of living in the boma that took the most getting used to. The flies were everywhere and only continuous movement at a quick pace could keep them off—and even then just for a few seconds. The constant buzzing and the sensation of flies crawling all over one’s body and face was, I must admit, no small distraction. But like many things we confronted during our time in Africa, what at first seemed unbearable become bearable and then eventually routine.
My chores included helping to mend the branch fencing of the cattle pen directly next to the boma and helping to milk the cows. Actually, it is highly doubtful how much help I really was at the latter of these tasks since it took more effort for my host mother and one of the younger wives to show me how to do it than to do it themselves (and I was never much good at it). I also helped the younger boys plow a nearby field—which is backbreaking work, as it turns out. And just in case you are wondering, herding cattle apparently was considered work too important to be entrusted to someone like me, even under supervision (this was communicated to me in no uncertain terms when I asked, and it was a humbling moment indeed). But occasionally I would accompany the men and boys to watch them wash their cattle. The cattle washing station is a giant elongated water trough filled with a chemical solution and covered by a shed roof. The herds are assembled in front of it and the cattle driven through it a few at a time. Each cow or bull has to be washed every two weeks to get the ticks off it. It is vital that the herds be clean and healthy since everything in the life of the Maasai seems to revolve around their cattle.
It is no exaggeration to say the cattle are central to the Maasai since these people own very little else and the main determinant of wealth and status is the size of their herds. Every day at sunrise, the men drive the cattle out to graze while the women remain at the boma to tend to the children and take care of the chores. While most of the cattle are kept in the main pen, the cows nursing calves are kept in a separate area just outside the huts. The women milk these cows twice a day: once at sunrise before the herds are driven out to graze and again in the evening when they return for the night. The fresh milk from these cows forms a major part of the Maasai diet and is served with every meal. It is taken straight from the cow to the boma where it is churned inside a gourd, heated over an open flame, sweetened or salted, and then served up warm. The end result is delicious and cannot be improved upon in any way. The milk is never more than a few hours old and comes from cows with no growth hormone injections or any other genetic modifications and which are allowed to graze out in the open on wild grass. I could certainly taste the difference and after the program is over it will be hard for me to go back to drinking refrigerated, pasteurized milk from dairy cows.
Three days with the Maasai allowed the students and me to experience a fundamentally different way of living. Notions of family, work, wealth, and even time in the Maasai culture are so unlike what is the norm not only among foreigners like us but for most other Kenyans and Tanzanians as well. It is impressive how the Maasai have managed to preserve their culture into the present day and the respect they enjoy from other Africans and the people who visit the region from elsewhere. Yet it is also readily evident how much their way of life is experiencing irreversible change. The younger generation is going to school and learning Swahili and English. Many of them are taking up farming in addition to their traditional herding and many of the younger men nowadays are taking only one wife. Cell phones are a recent addition to the material culture of Maasai life and have proved invaluable in coordinating the movement of herds, but for the younger generation they are also a means of staying connected to the outside world.
After the final day of the Maasai home stay we returned to the camp. At this point, there was a sense among the group that the program was unofficially over. All we had remaining was a two day transit back to Arusha and the Swahili oral exam. It was (and is) a great feeling to be done and to savor that sense of accomplishment. The final two days were taken up by a long but enjoyable journey across Northern Tanzania from Loliondo back to Arusha. Along the way we stopped at Lake Natron (an alkali lake bed that is a breeding area for thousands of flamingoes), hiked to a waterfall near our campsite, and even spotted a cheetah as we drove back to Arusha. The last of these experiences was especially thrilling since it occurred outside a national park and so it somehow felt more authentic than any of the lions or other animals we saw in Tarangire or Ngorongoro. At sunset we arrived in Arusha and settled into our hotel. Tonight we have our final dinner and tomorrow we go our separate ways. In a few hours, the East Africa program will be over, but my adventures here and in other parts of the continent will continue.
Maasai men herding cattle in Ololosokwan village, Loliondo, Tanzania
On November 24th we arrived in Ololosokwan village in Loliondo, a rural area adjacent to the eastern boundary of Serengeti National Park. The safari was over and we were spending the final phase of the program in a Maasai community, each of us living with a different family. Our first two days were spent at the campsite, meeting with representatives of the Pastoral Women’s Council, a group that acts as legal and educational advocates for the Maasai in the area and who coordinates homes stays for visiting students. We also had presentations from the men and women in the community about the dynamics of Maasai life and what we could expect once we went off with our adoptive families. The group meetings had to be translated since many of the Maasai, especially the older generation, speak only Maa (the Maasai language). Apart from English, even our rudimentary Swahili was of limited use. On the day we were to be introduced to our families, we were led to the village and asked to stand in a row. The host mothers came along and selected us one by one. It was a bit like being picked for kickball back in elementary school. This was the first of the three home stays in which I participated, so like the students I was led off by my host mother.
Living in Maasai family for three days was incredible and I’m still not sure if afterwards I have learned more about the Maasai or about myself. I lived in a boma, which is a small compound of huts adjoining a cattle pen. Each hut houses a woman and her children. Each of these women is one of the wives of the man of the household who is in charge of the boma. Even after three days, I wasn’t sure whose children were whose. My host mother, Nadupo, appeared to be my age or maybe younger. Her children were often joined by their cousins who, because of their schooling, spoke Swahili and even some English and served as my conversation partners. We had translators assigned to us who would visit the various bomas and help the students and me communicate with our host families, but for me at least it was mostly the children who took me around and explained how I was to do my various chores.
Often I was glad to get outside the boma and do some work. The windowless huts are not exactly the most conducive places to healthy living. The walls and floor are made from dried cow dung and the roof is a wooden frame covered in dirt and thatch. There is almost no light inside and very poor ventilation. The interior was hot, smoky, dark, teeming with flies, and I could not stand up without hitting my head on the ceiling. I slept on a wooden board eighteen inches above the ground and with two baby goats living underneath (no joke). Getting outside was a relief from all of this, except of course for the flies. That was probably the part of living in the boma that took the most getting used to. The flies were everywhere and only continuous movement at a quick pace could keep them off—and even then just for a few seconds. The constant buzzing and the sensation of flies crawling all over one’s body and face was, I must admit, no small distraction. But like many things we confronted during our time in Africa, what at first seemed unbearable become bearable and then eventually routine.
My chores included helping to mend the branch fencing of the cattle pen directly next to the boma and helping to milk the cows. Actually, it is highly doubtful how much help I really was at the latter of these tasks since it took more effort for my host mother and one of the younger wives to show me how to do it than to do it themselves (and I was never much good at it). I also helped the younger boys plow a nearby field—which is backbreaking work, as it turns out. And just in case you are wondering, herding cattle apparently was considered work too important to be entrusted to someone like me, even under supervision (this was communicated to me in no uncertain terms when I asked, and it was a humbling moment indeed). But occasionally I would accompany the men and boys to watch them wash their cattle. The cattle washing station is a giant elongated water trough filled with a chemical solution and covered by a shed roof. The herds are assembled in front of it and the cattle driven through it a few at a time. Each cow or bull has to be washed every two weeks to get the ticks off it. It is vital that the herds be clean and healthy since everything in the life of the Maasai seems to revolve around their cattle.
It is no exaggeration to say the cattle are central to the Maasai since these people own very little else and the main determinant of wealth and status is the size of their herds. Every day at sunrise, the men drive the cattle out to graze while the women remain at the boma to tend to the children and take care of the chores. While most of the cattle are kept in the main pen, the cows nursing calves are kept in a separate area just outside the huts. The women milk these cows twice a day: once at sunrise before the herds are driven out to graze and again in the evening when they return for the night. The fresh milk from these cows forms a major part of the Maasai diet and is served with every meal. It is taken straight from the cow to the boma where it is churned inside a gourd, heated over an open flame, sweetened or salted, and then served up warm. The end result is delicious and cannot be improved upon in any way. The milk is never more than a few hours old and comes from cows with no growth hormone injections or any other genetic modifications and which are allowed to graze out in the open on wild grass. I could certainly taste the difference and after the program is over it will be hard for me to go back to drinking refrigerated, pasteurized milk from dairy cows.
Three days with the Maasai allowed the students and me to experience a fundamentally different way of living. Notions of family, work, wealth, and even time in the Maasai culture are so unlike what is the norm not only among foreigners like us but for most other Kenyans and Tanzanians as well. It is impressive how the Maasai have managed to preserve their culture into the present day and the respect they enjoy from other Africans and the people who visit the region from elsewhere. Yet it is also readily evident how much their way of life is experiencing irreversible change. The younger generation is going to school and learning Swahili and English. Many of them are taking up farming in addition to their traditional herding and many of the younger men nowadays are taking only one wife. Cell phones are a recent addition to the material culture of Maasai life and have proved invaluable in coordinating the movement of herds, but for the younger generation they are also a means of staying connected to the outside world.
After the final day of the Maasai home stay we returned to the camp. At this point, there was a sense among the group that the program was unofficially over. All we had remaining was a two day transit back to Arusha and the Swahili oral exam. It was (and is) a great feeling to be done and to savor that sense of accomplishment. The final two days were taken up by a long but enjoyable journey across Northern Tanzania from Loliondo back to Arusha. Along the way we stopped at Lake Natron (an alkali lake bed that is a breeding area for thousands of flamingoes), hiked to a waterfall near our campsite, and even spotted a cheetah as we drove back to Arusha. The last of these experiences was especially thrilling since it occurred outside a national park and so it somehow felt more authentic than any of the lions or other animals we saw in Tarangire or Ngorongoro. At sunset we arrived in Arusha and settled into our hotel. Tonight we have our final dinner and tomorrow we go our separate ways. In a few hours, the East Africa program will be over, but my adventures here and in other parts of the continent will continue.
Maasai men herding cattle in Ololosokwan village, Loliondo, Tanzania
28 November 2008
Maasai Boma in Ololosokwan village, Loliondo, Tanzania
Maasai Boma in Ololosokwan village, Loliondo, Tanzania
29 November 2008