The Masai

Our camp was about a 5 minute drive from the Masai Mara, a game reserve owned by the Masai people. The Masai are THE people you think of when you think Africa if you’ve ever seen a National Geographic. They have the big, stretched earlobes, lips plates (but I didn’t see any of those), wear plenty of beaded jewelry and red cloth wraps. The men’s scrawny knees are forever visible, with the cloth draped across their upper body and falling short. When I asked our camp guard if his legs ever got cold, he said no, but that if he wanted, he could pull down his shawl as a blanket.

The Masai are traditionally nomadic people, tending herds (but never raising chickens, for some unexplained reason—don’t eat them or their eggs and this way predates bird flu!). They have been allowed to bring their livestock into the game reserve because of the severe drought, but they bring them back home to corrals each night. Just outside of our campsite, a cow fell down, ribs visible. The Masai man walking with 2 Canadians and me went to help the other Masai, but it took all 5 of us numerous tries to lift it to its feet. I was so surprised that it could stand and even walk, but hadn’t been able to get itself up. When the cow dies from starvation, the Masai skin it and leave the meat for scavengers. The normal dowry for a Masai marriage is 10 cows.

The lions are supposedly scared of the red that the Masai wear (why a bull charges at it and a lion is scared of it, I couldn’t get explained). The Masai also reputedly have a certain smell that the lions can detect. My coworker’s conjecture is that it’s the smell of the cow’s blood that the Masai drink. They tie the neck of the cow and insert an arrow and fill up a pint or more of blood into a horn-cup. They drink just like that, warm, or sometimes mix it with milk. The Masai generally drink blood about twice a week, but not when the cows are weak like they are now.

Sitting by the campfire, “Fast” was anything but that (the translation of his name). He kept closing his eyes, slowly, tortoise-like, because of the smoke. He’d take his time in answering a question, often speaking with eyes shut. He was gentle and spoke so softly we all had to lean in to hear him. The guards at the camp made me feel better, even though they were only armed with short wooden clubs. “It won’t kill a lion, but it’ll help you to delay it so you can run away,” Fast told us. I had seen the sticks at the gas station gift shop in the town before the park and joked that it was a ‘bopper’ against animals. I couldn’t believe I was right! There’s hardly any handle on that thing, meaning you’d have to be close to use it.

The Masai men around our camp wore traditional clothes, with Western style accessories (belts, sneakers, wrist watches). Seeing one on a cell phone was a bit like seeing an Egyptian in a galibayya in front of the Pyramids. Fast told us that the elders are worried about the influence of the church on the culture of the Masai—the elders say that to become Christian invariably would mean an end to certain traditions (e.g. multiple wives). The Masai don’t allow photography, originally thinking that the flash would cause harm but now monopolizing on paid tours to their villages, during which pictures are conveniently permitted.