The dashing of preconceived ideas

I’d rather imagined when signing up to walk with a young Maasai warrior to be walking in the tracks of lions and the big beasts of the African plains. I pictured walking with a tall and elegant man, wearing a tandoor red shuka draped over his shoulder, carrying a spear. I imagined him telling me of his herding and hunting and of drinking large quantities of blood and milk. Perhaps he’d tell me a few stories around the embers of a fire.

I got the tall and elegant Maasai. Sam was wearing his traditional garb and he carried his spear. But rather than the lion killing, blood drinking warrior, I walked instead with a smartphone carrying, university educated man with a degree in Social Care and a fluency in several languages along with an encyclopaedic knowledge of plants. Each bush and tree that we passed was introduced by its botanical Latin name, followed by its uses. Tarchonanthus camphorates, Vachellia drepanolobium, Euphorbia ingens - with uses as diverse as, fly repellents, deodorants, sandpaper, poison, beer, toilet paper.

The earth is raw like a wound
Huge herds of sheep and goats, mingling around an almost suburban settlement of zinc huts each bordered by wire and thorns were also not part of my preconceived idea of a Maasai lifestyle. The earth within these kraals is raw like a wound. Poverty with all its ugliness and squalor is everywhere, incongruous against the vast vistas of the African plains. These people, themselves invaders some three hundred years ago and who have learnt to live alongside the fiercest of the beasts, are now living sedentary lives on marginal lands outside the great reserves. “Over grazing is a real issue. Traditionally a man’s wealth and status has depended on the heads of cattle he owns. The Maasai need to understand that a few heads of animals are better than many. It is not easy because our culture depends on the number of animals a man has. It is leading to conflicts with the elders”.

These fenced kraals that we walk past upset him. “We do not have private land’, he says. All this - he sweeps the far horizons - is our land. “It is hard to go forward without loosing who we are”. Further along the gravel track, we come to a lake which is fed by hot springs coming from deep within the dense vegetation to our right. There are women collecting water in yellow containers. A man washes down his motorbike. ’There are many dangers here for these women.’ says Sam. He goes into story-telling mode.

The elephant who came to bathe
“Just over a year ago, an elephant visited the springs. He put his foot into the soft soil and it sank into the hot waters. His great weight pushed him deeper and deeper and the more he struggled the deeper his leg went. His other foreleg beat the land, his trunk swayed and he cried out. Agonising pain and the sheer will to be free of it gave him additional strength and with his foot now free, he charged here, to where we sit, where he wailed, his foot boiled. It was a piteous sound and nothing could be done. The elders telephoned the Kenyan Wildlife Service who came and shot him to free him from his pain”.

“And not so long ago, a young male hippo came to this lake. He was in search of a new home for himself. The local women would not wash the clothes for the fear of the hippo, which you know is very aggressive. I think they kill at least 500 people in Africa every year. It is easier to shoot a hippo than to move a village. Come, let me show you his remains”. We walk around the lake and there, drying in the sun his bones, scattered by ravenous hyenas and passing vultures.

‘Hello, how are you?’
Stepping over a jaw and a pile of drying hide, we walk on towards Sam’s village. Here the huts are most closely packed, but still bordered by wire on which the washing dries. Children with red stained teeth (due to the minerals in the local water) emerge from every door to shake hands and shout, ‘Hello, how are you?’ Women stop their work to shyly smile and stare at the white man passing through. “The young thirst to be part of the smartphone, broadband culture, but the job opportunities are scarce out here”, said Sam.

Once we are at the far end of the village, Sam continued, “I want to start a support centre, when I have the money where I want to help families who have crippled children. Many people here believe that a crippled child is a curse from God. The families with these children cannot work, so life is very hard for them. I want to help people understand that it is not a curse and that we can help them. But the government will not give me the money for this. So first I must work as a guide and make some money”.

Imagine the new beginning
We leave the village and take the path that leads back up the hill to camp passing yet more wire and acacia barriers around the kraals. Young flowers burst out of the soil, fed by the late rains. Goats rummage around the candelabra trees and the sun shines on.