Maasai Faces

Maasai Ceremony

Saturday am. We awake at 4.30 am, picked up a friend and drive south. We were attending a Maasai ceremony. It had rained the night before so once we turned off the main road it was a mud bath—thank goodness for 4 wheel drive. We made it to a remote, lovely spot—to a Maasai boma and there was a sea of red—the Maasai. The ceremony was the graduation of Maasai Warriors to the junior elder class, this only happens every 12 years. Maasai have various age classes that they move through in their life—and today they move from one to the next. We were very fortunate to be able to witness the ceremony.

The event was rich with tradition and there is so much attention to details and symbolism. In the morning a sacred cow is selected—one without any blemishes or scars. The cow is led into the centre of the boma. The warriors surround the cow and sing, their guttural song, which puts the cow in a trance. The cow is then slaughtered and the blood drank. The warriors can only eat the right side, so they are cooked separately. The skin of the cow is stretched out do dry by the women. Each woman has a sacred stick they use to peg the skin to the ground. If a woman is not faithful, they are not allowed to peg their stick on the skin. If they are found unfaithful, they go back to their father and get nine cows to present to their husband to seek forgiveness. As the skin is pegged and the meat cooking on the fire, there are hours of dancing and singing. The warriors are covered in red ochre (the red paint) which shines in the sunlight and they are all elaborately dressed with beads and red shukas. Senior guests are welcome with song and dance. Once the meat is ready, the group of warriors gather, they kneel and 9 elders give them a blessing. Then they are led into a hut where they are fed by the women meat. The meat has been carried into the hut by the women on leaves, the women are not to touch the meat—this is the first time the men will eat with the women—ever. The men hold their heads high with great pride.

The ceremony was four hours from Nairobi. It is astonishing that so close to Nairobi this culture endures, against all odds. The mixing of tradition with contemporary life is evident in the white USA socks and NIKE sneakers that some of the women wear, or the safari boots that the men wear and the mobile phones everyone carries, but despite the blending of new and old, they maintain the tradition. A true privilege to witness the graduation.

Grumpy

There is a woman at the end of our street who we call grumpy. Actually, her real name is Margaret, but as the name suggests, she is a bit grumpy. She and her friend sit at the end of our street selling produce: carrots, potatoes, onions, tomatoes. It’s hard to judge age here in Kenya. Life is tough and people age quickly, so I cannot even guess Grumpy’s age. She has a classic round wrinkled face and one tooth. Right, one tooth. She wears a colorful kanga (a wrap that is tied around your waist like a skirt or wrapped around your shoulders like a scarf) and a worn t-shirt. She usually has a scarf tied around her head. Her reputation as a grump comes from her tough sales pitch. As you drive by, if you do not buy anything from her, you try to avoid her grumpy look. A friend of mine claims she even threw a potato at her car for not buying her produce. We try to buy all our vegetables from Grumpy, not because we are worried that she will throw something at the car, but because like most Kenyans she is probably supporting about 15 other people. It feels good to support her as opposed to the big supermarkets. Actually, because I buy from her, she even gives me a smile every once and a while, and shrugs her shoulder when I tell her we are still working on the bag of carrots we bought the other day.

“Grumpy is a rip off,” says a friend. Yes, ok, so I pay $1.00 for a big bag of carrots, as opposed to .35 cents, but seriously, does it matter, am I really rocking the economy? We have not seen Grumpy in a while. Her friend said she is sick at home. The neighborhood is not the same without her and we wish her good health.

Blending of Cultures

Nanyuki is a small town that rests in the northern shadow of Mt. Kenya. It is a spectacular blend of settlers, Samburu, and agriculturalists. The land to the north includes community land for pastoralists and large ranches mainly owned by white Kenyans, Kenyan cowboys as they are called, and foreigners. We are at the Nanyuki Sports Club, an old institution in town. The British Military is based here in Nanyuki. This is their last stop before being shipped off to Afghanistan—it provides a good desert combat training site. In the morning they are training in the fields outside the club. It’s a rich assortment of culture. The Samburu man in his red shuka, beads and tire sandals—a goat tied to a string, coming to market for sale; the agriculturalist in her colorful kanga wrapped around her waist selling produce from the slopes of Mt. Kenya; the Kenyan Cowboy driving his landrover in his short khaki shorts, button down shirt and safari boots; and the military folk in their green camo uniforms, black boots and buzz cuts. It’s the co-existence and blending of these contrasting cultures that make this town rich.

They Call Him Bob

To the World he is known as Mugabe. Robert Mugabe. But here in Zimbabwe they call him Bob. Probably one of the most well known African leaders whose grip on power is world renowned, he has served as President since 1987.

I am traveling in northwestern Zimbabwe with Zimbabwean colleagues who have experienced their country through war, rebound and turmoil. A beautiful country with fertile soils, winding rivers and diverse landscapes. The former bread basket of Africa. We drive through rural towns and it is as if you have stepped into a history book. Lovely roads lined with jacaranda trees. Abandoned homes. A country that once flourished. Bob is committed to running again. One more go. He will win. He will use his old tactics, violence. In the small town of Vic Falls during the last election Bob got 23 votes, MDC’s Morgan Tsvangirai 3600. The final election numbers have never been released. They never will be. After the coalition government was formed with Tsvangirai, a man who has risked his life for his country, things stabilized a bit. The switch to American currency last year helped steady the country after record inflation crippled the economy. The coalition government is tenuous at best. Investors have come back to Zim in the hopes things will turn around. We all hope.

Human Wildlife Conflict

Livingstone airport. Zambia. A one room international terminal. It is packed with tourists who have just enjoyed safaris to Victoria Falls, Chobe National Park in Botswana and boat trips along the Zambezi River. Boarding the airplane there is one scanner, we wait in the long line. A tall striking looking man walks in, a nurse follows him. She is holding a young boy with a cast on his leg and bandages on his head. He is six years old. He rests his head on the nurse’s shoulder. Sad eyes. They go through the security, the man is clearly flustered, his mind elsewhere. He walks through the scanner with his bag, has to back track, forgets to remove his shoes. The man just buried his wife. Yesterday. She was killed by an elephant. The boy survived the attack. Human-wildlife conflict. A major issue in Africa on which we work. With proper planning, there is plenty of space for wildlife and humans to co-exist. Corridors need to be large enough, animal pens (bomas) need to be lion proofed, herding practices need to be adjusted, farms lined with chili fences (elephant do not like chili peppers) and villages need to be properly located. With an increase in population and habitat fragmentation, the challenge continues to escalate.