Ancestral guides in a modern world. 

In the beginning, the Earth and Sky were one: Ngai. One day decided, tired of the same, that they should be apart. He noticed, very worried, that there was no one to attend his flock. With this reason, and no other, Ngai, sent the brave Maasai to be its maximum guardian. I didn’t look at my watch, I couldn’t, letting  myself fall in the blood colored Kenyan afternoon. Without any shame, I suspected it would be the last anxious  glance I would take to the little machine clenched around my wrist. At the end of the road 1500 Km of pure Africa, awaited for me. I overflew the Masai Mara natural reserve, located in the southeast of Kenya, in the grand Rift Valley, and when I say grand I do not exaggerate at all. Like a deep wound, it cuts the country from north to south, and has an extension of 60 to 80 km; fenced by lateral walls of up to 600 meters of height, in the interior of this natural pot, volcanoes, amazing lakes and untraceable igneous stone plains are cooked. Yes, in this same place, one of the major geographical accidents on earth, the Maasai found their destiny.  

 

 

I had arrived. Morning in the savanna is intense, the sun crouching on the prarie. After what felt a oniric flight over the Kenyan sky,  we headed ourselves by bus, to the camp located inside Masai Mara. We crossed the pastures that gifted us with the presence of some elephants. As we came closer a man mumbled a few words. He was tall, lean and wore a red tunic that rested on one of his shoulders; I was immediately captivated by the owner of such absolute tranquility and generous gaze. I knew later, led by my tireless curiosity, that this intriguing character belonged to the Maasai tribe, which by the way, is one of the most ancestral and representative of Africa; a warrior nomad tribe, of which almost a million are distributed between Kenya and Tanzania. A culture full of pride and courage, that was exactly what I had noticed in the eyes of the first Maasai I saw in that bus. 

The heat slowly began climbing up to my forehead. I sharpened my view and noticed, far away, the camp site. I can say the apprehension, not the heat, made me jump out of the bus. The idea of a safari had chased me for years. Luckley, Juan received us in an attentive manner.He was the owner of that camp; a happy looking, heavy bearded Spaniard that had lived in Kenya for 5 years. We went scouting, he showed me some of the facilities and introduced me to his helpers. I ,was more concerned for my appetite and a good bath. The place was cozy. I rested in a tent, elevated 5 meters above the ground, with extended textiles elegantly placed as doors and equipped with all the necessary commodities. As night fell, other travellers, the owner, a few Maasai and I gathered as a family around the huge white table adorned with linen for a banquet. 

 

 

Juan, being a great host, hugged us all into his intriguing stories and explained other costumes and curiosities of the place. On my part, I took my time and talked with James, a Maasai who with a serene smile, told me he  had 25 years of age. He slowly took out of a little pouch, acacia herbs, which he handed me over upon a comment of stomach pain, a gesture I deeply valued. The Maasai, have an excellent reputation and wisdom when it comes to seeds, leaves, and bushes, which are destined to medicine. I accepted, in good grace his suggestion and interest in my care. I felt in the Kenyan night a bond of friendship beginning to stretch between us. After a superb dinner, built of the local, most exquisite meet, the night began to lighten up. I had the idea of taking out my harmonica, fact that was cheerfully celebrated by all, once the sound of the first musical notes became present, immediately the curiosity of the Maasai was tangible. The first one, John, approached me and respectfully asked to play it, but in vain tried to make a clear sound come out of it, which cause the general laughter of the group. After a few attempts, it passed whistling from mouth to mouth. 

The party was full of happiness. From the darkest of the night, some of them began to chant with a hypnotic ability (ability and characteristic taste of the Maasai celebrations), without us noticing, we all began to involve in the orchestra and the dance, jumping constantly, in such a way, the bliss was total. The wine kept flowing, the chat, the jokes, and the food was sculpted into the night like a show for the wild beasts.I begged Juan for a visit to their village, he only nodded, without saying word. When the party had ended, lying in my bed, and feeling a relief from the Maasai medicine, my mind stopped to wonder what it would be like to live a life so different as that tribe. Little by little I encountered sleep, although after the stories told that night, I was a bit scared by the idea of crashing. Maybe, very close by, a lion might be wide awake...that night, and with no shame in confessing it, I proved to have a sleep so deep, that if any fear or elephant might crush it, any monster from hell itself, would only make a fool. 

I woke up in the clear essence of the African morning. The noises of the animals at that hour of day, are revealing. I was ready for the trip or safari - in swahili- Juan, attentively, explained to me that some Maasai would join us. According to him, they knew the essence of things and places, like  ancestral guides and guardians. Those words had woken up something inside me, and they seemed to curl up underneath the shadows of scattered acacias and get confounded with the spots of the leopard. From the Land Rover, we could see lions waking up, the fun hippopotamus in the river, and a leopard having his lunch. I thought, with the look steady over a soft hill, the remoteness of that life, compared to my life in a city, and stood there admired by the tremendous power 

 

 

of those human beings who could, not only live, but dominante a terrain full of lurking predators. We came back before sun down. The Safari had exceeded my expectations, the unapproachable plains, the most dangerous animals in their intimacy.  

But those who stole my thoughts, were the Masai accompanying us, whom Juan treated so well; since I was very little, I had a curiosity for the human being, and being in front of them, that strength was unavoidable. During supper, Juan explained to me a bit of Maasai history, their philosophy of thinking and feeling which were so different, and why was that he was so  esteemed by them.

The sun was at it’s highest peak, and although I had a terrible headache, I jumped out of bed to recall Juan of the pact we had made the night before. He was awake, sitting with a Maasai, having breakfast, I sat with difficulty, without wanting to spoil the colors and sounds of the morning. He turned his head, and confessed in Spanish, that this Maasai, William, sitting in front of me, was whom he trusted most and that he would gladly take us to his village. Said and done. We finished breakfast and began the long walk toward his home, Juan, two of them and I. The journey on foot lasted two hours, and in repeated occasions we had to stop or wait under the warning of danger. Although I was excited, I had not forgotten that our only defense against lions, elephants and other loose felines, were two lean and tall Maasai, gifted with a spear and a machete.  I thought it was funny the fact I had a rough time killing a mouse with a broom, and they, with their ragu, would be encouraged to confront the king of the jungle and and who knows what else. 

We moved along the bushes and climbed up with caution hills that weren’t too steep. One of the Masai swiftly warned us of what would have been a sad episode. I was a centimeter of stepping on (given my luck), and being bitten by a snake, William held my arm with a quick movement and avoided the attack of the reptile camouflaged in the bushes. For everyone else, it would have been a daily obstacle,for me was the beginning of a heart attack. Juan handed me a drink of gin. We kept walking, but my perception, after this episode, had accentuated. I felt com penetrated to the place, as if some kind of knowledge had been revealed, and now I  was a part of everything. 

We soon reached the village. From a distance I perceived a fence surrounding it completely, a very sensitive precaution due to the wild kingdom amongst them. A smell of manure invaded me. In measure of our approach, I heard a diffuse sound of female voices. I regarded, not without curiosity, the first group of Maasai men. Standing,  with one leg flexed and supporting the weight with their canes, as if imitating the passive posture of a crane. I smiled, imagining the expression of furry and scolding my mother would have given them.  Urging them to correct their posture in a straight alignment, as she did with me in so many occasions when I was a kid. A light drizzle wet the faces, the damp season was starting, and the mud made it harder to walk. We were all relaxed. They received us fraternally and said their hellos: - Sopai, Sopai, Jambo.  A little girl came close to me and bend her head, I stroked her, this was their way of greeting respectfully an adult. The courtesy of the little girl and men, made me feel at ease.

 

It caught my attention the variety of trinkets over their body, so common to them. I watched that both, men and women pierced their ears with hoops and toothpick looking objects; they are frequent in using a series of bracelets on their arms and necklaces of colorful geometrical figures. Everybody shares the use of tunics resting over their backs, where green and red prevailed. The Maasai, obviously, are a very refined and elegant tribe. 

From one moment to the other, the chief of the village came to our encounter, Juan and him had a bond,astonishingly for me, very close, fact that opened a window of trust toward them. 

After a brief talk, jokes and all, taken by the hand, like a couple of lovebirds, they took me to a tour around the village.It seemed strange to me, I wasn’t from around, everyone has their costumes and I wasn’t going to judge...everyone laughed about it, or better said, everyone laughed at me.   They explained to me, that physical contact is quite natural amongst the Maasai; people of the same sex can be touching each other , hugging or walking with their hands held together. When in rome.. 

I perceived, during this tour, a group of women surrounding a hut, whispering phrases to it’s interior, they were the voices I heard before entering the village. The rain had passed. William commented that inside the house, a boy waited. I then realized the words said by those women, were of encouragement. They were preparing the boy for one of the most important events in the life of the Maasai: the ritual of circumcision. Kids between fourteen and eighteen years of age, stop being boys and become men. Girls too, must be circumcised, to pass from tender years into womanhood. 

 

 

 

 

 

Objects which remind them of their childhood are taken away, and don’t belong to this new stage of their lives. The courage wished to this boy, was that of bearing the pain of the operation, and remain still and brave, without showing suffering, nor screaming, if he did , it would mean disgrace to his family. In a couple hours, sunset would begin to color the pastures. William took me to one of the huts or manyattas, where they lived. In general, the ceilings at their home were low, and rectangular. Built with a structure of branches, barks, livestock manure, and  are destined to be inhabited by only one family.  Inside it was very dark, the illumination was natural, and ventilation was nonexistent except for a few cracks in the walls. The smell of humidity was penetrating, treatment which was given to the walls, absorbed me unpleasantly. There were two rooms used to store goats and their babies. Nothing really seemed too elaborate and this resulted quite normal to me, since I understood their condition of nomade village.  They invited me to sit between two Maasai who drank milk in a sort of horn with a portion of blood, I learned later...luckley. The flavour is so bitter and intense, I didn’t like it, to be honest. My face seemed to divert one of the elderly men. For them it is usual to drink, the not despicable sum of 15 glasses a day.  We walked out of the manyatta, my eyes used to the darkness, resented given the light of the afternoon.  We walked a few steps, and William took the chance to introduce me to one of his wives, Diara, followed by two friends  of hers.  Yes,  I said one of them. Polygamy is a acceptable social form between Maasai men and women. I acted normal, disguising my surprise, and not because of jealousy, my mind wandered an instant in several possibilities which don’t even deserve mention.  We walked across the plain, populated with green grass, and under the the shadow of the tree, we sat to talk. 

Apparently, at the moment, William had three wives. contemptible quantity, since the number of women depends on the solvency of affording them, or in Maasai language, the number of cattle owned.

Three wives is the equivalent of having a certain amount of cows to provide for the family. That is how the cattle defines, limits and creates the economic and social relations.  All of these people depend wholly in their cattle; in such a way that they take care of it as a son. they are their best veterinarians, give them food and water, and even sleep a few inches away from them. For this reason, it’s divine character is completely understandable. It is because of this, the firm believe, due to its animistic religion, sent by Ngai, all the cows of the world belong to them, therefore, are sacred. 

With the passing of times and several adaptations, this tribe had to redesign its development. Their orthodox idea was to live exclusively on cattle, today they are learning to farm, cultivate and extract some earning from tourism. 

Before heading back to the village, on a side of the hut, I observed a pretty new construction, the Maasai don’t seem to close themselves to the reality which surrounds them, maybe for need or lack of alternative, I saw it was a little school. In it, children learned English, Maa, Swahili, amongst other subjects. For my surprise, I saw the sincere opportunity of learning more from them, and establish other type of bonds, so, that afternoon, I didn’t hesitate on consulting William abou the possibility of participating in the education of the children and bring myself closer to their culture, which was pre disposed with good spirit to my intentions. 

 

 

Before sunset, and after saying our goodbyes with immense pleasure, we walked back to the campsite. I returned bewailed. Impulsed by the experience I decided to stay and help out Juan in the camp, fact that made him happy, since he would have a worthy chess opponent. 

I stayed in Kenya a year, in collaboration with the Maasai, specially in their education, and I can be a witness to their courtesy, the affection they emanate, the wisdom each and everyone of them owns, and the pride they feel to know they are hearers of ancestral warriors. Currently, they have suffered systematic displacement of their lands,  deceptions, and people who wish to take their hunting grounds. All of this, adds to the water shortage, and the loss of cattle, dragging the Maasai to diminish their numbers and adopt sedentary ways of life, to search for jobs in the city, and sell their culture for a few dollars, to foreigners that observe their attitude without understanding it. Their current challenge as a society is to think about a way to adapt to the world as it is presented to them, with out losing their ancestral identity.

 

Text: Emanuel Alday ± Photo:serazur / enkewara / Nuno Ribeiro / Philippe_Boissel /eriagn / esacademic / PRWEB