Following a leisurely breakfast, it was time to hit the road again to The Pioneer Camp in the Serengeti National Park. This was going to be a four-plus-hour, grueling day in the safari vehicle (a.k.a. shake ’n dust chamber). We drove back up to the crest of the Ngorongoro Crater and then followed the Eastern ridge road for several miles before traversing down the outer slope. Leaving greenery behind, we descended to the very flat, very barren southern tip of the Serengeti National Park. During our descent we spotted several groups of three or four boys whose faces were adorned with white-painted designs, waving at us.
Maasai boys who have passed the ceremony to become a warrior
To answer the immediate question, these boys, typically aged 12-20, had recently undergone an important rite of passage, leaving boyhood to become warriors. The critical component in this ceremony is circumcision. Their shaved heads, black clothing, and painted faces are the markings for having completed the circumcision ceremony.
Why were they waving and yelling at us as we drive by? They were looking to make money by charging a fee for taking their photo. As we slowed down to get by a rough patch of road, a group was trying to get us to stop. Somebody in our group raised their camera to take a picture. They became very agitated and began to yell at us to stop and pay them money. Elly and Nicholas yelled back and drove on and explained what these painted young men signified.
The encounter sparked Daniel to begin a lengthy discourse of the Maasai history and culture. The Maasai number about 1.8 million, split evenly between Kenya and Tanzania. The nomadic Maasai originated in the Nile Valley and began to migrate south into what is now Kenya and Tanzania in the 17th century, displacing resident ethnic groups along the way. As described by Daniel, the encroachment of other ethnic groups and the ascendancy of legislative rules have dramatically reduced the territory available to them. The shrinking of their available land continues to this day, as National Parks and Conservation Areas, as well as towns and villages, are carved out of the traditional grazing land, bringing restrictive rules which impact the Maasai way of life.
It’s not just restrictions of physical movement but restrictions on their culture. For example, the Maasai believe that they are the owners of all cattle in the world. A Maasai man’s wealth or value is measured by the number of livestock they own. Their culture sanctions warriors to steal cattle from other villages or owners. Kenya and Tanzania have laws that disallow appropriating of cattle, which means wealth can only be increased by purchasing more cattle. But where do they get the money to buy? They work or sell handicrafts. Or they give up specific cultural practices in exchange for cash from the government. So the ever-diminishing spiral of their culture continues.
The pressures on these people appear elephantine (seems like an appropriate word for the land of elephants). If we consider the two dimensions of the dilemma: Change/Preserve, and Internal/External, attempting to navigate these forces is huge, and more importantly, which is right? Is there a right?
The External forces of Change and Preserve:
Change
They may only move through designated areas
Their cattle may just graze in specific areas
Cattle stealing is not allowed
All children must attend school
Abolish the killing of lions as part of the ceremony to become a warrior
Female genital mutilation (FGM) is banned
Augment the traditional diet with vegetables, fruit, and grain. School lunches for the children do not include their traditional food. In order to eat the new diet at school, consuming these foods at home encourages them to accept the new foods.
Preserve
International pressure to preserve their culture
Sociology’s drive to encapsulate their way of life
The Internal forces for Change and Preservation:
Change
As children learn in school, they see new things, new ways and don’t want to adhere to the old ways. One child gets a Nike T-shirt, then all of them want one. Very normal.
Schooling demands they abandoned their nomadic lifestyle…at least for the women and children. The men continue to move around to graze their cattle.
Educated girls don’t want to grow up and collect cow dung, mix it with soil, to build or patch their huts.
They have or want smartphones
They want to live in permanent housing, not the dark and dingy shelters with tiny chambers that are shared with their goats.
Preservation
Many Maasai want to maintain their traditional lifestyle and values.
Rebel against outsiders imposing change. For example, FGM remains widely practiced, they just hide it.
Some still kill lions as part of the warrior ceremony. The occurrence is frequently shrugged off by government officials.
Maintain their diet of cow blood mixed with cow milk, and goat or cattle roasted meat. No grains. They are not farmers.
Men may marry several women, may have relationships with unmarried women who have passed the FGM ceremony.
The girl’s parents will select the man she is to marry. She may not marry a second time.
The road ahead for the Maasai people is as bumpy as the African roads.
A Maasai male’s life-cycle is divided into several stages: boyhood, warrior, junior elder, elder, senior elder, and ultimately Venerable Elder. Young Maasai boys endure a harsh upbringing. They are generally held in low regard, left to tend cattle, goats, and do all the menial tasks in the village. Every two to four years, the village elders decide that it is time to bring on a new group of warriors, which allows the current warriors as well as the other levels, to be promoted to the next upper level.
The ceremony and transition from boyhood to warrior is the most important and most valued. Several nearby villages proffer candidates for this ‘class.’ Once the members are identified, the ceremony, which takes two months, is scheduled. The candidates let their hair grow and ignore hygiene, wear grungy clothes…sort of the last ‘slob’ hurrah, maybe like a bachelor party. They eliminated the requirement to kill a lion to achieve warrior status. The day before the ceremony, the candidates’ heads are shaved, their bodies are washed and scrubbed. They wear black cloaks. On the ‘big’ day, each enters a small tent where an elder performs the circumcision. The boy may not flinch, show any pain… remain silent… If he reacts in pain, he is dishonored, cursed and cast out by his family as well as the village. No drugs to reduce pain or infection may be used. Healing will take 3-4 months. This group of new warriors will live together in a compound near the village for the next 3-5 years or until a new class is planned. During their life in the compound, they are taught how to fight, to protect the village, hunt, etc.
In contrast to the many stages a man passes through during his life, Maasai women have only two stages: Married and Unmarried. They are circumcised when they are 11-13 years old, in secret, and encouraged by the mothers in the family. They may cry during the procedure.
This started many discussions in our group over the next few days. What is or was the purpose of circumcision? Why is it part of the Jewish culture? “It is tradition” is not an acceptable answer. What was the original intent, started centuries ago? Must there have been a reason to mutilate? What problem was it meant to solve? We finally agreed that none of us were knowledgeable to offer an answer….including Daniel.
I took Daniel aside at one point to ask him about FGM. It is widely practiced and is practiced within the circle of women. Men have no role in it. So what is the legend behind the start of this practice? It is a tradition! Ok, lets put that aside, why do women willingly subject themselves to this practice? I’m going to stop the story here. The answer he gave was so male-centric, so preposterous, that I can’t repeat it without chuckling and shaking my head. Bribed with a glass of excellent wine, I’ll reveal it, one-on-one only.
Surviving this segue, let’s return to our drive down the side of the cauldron’s rim. After several more groups of boys with painted faces, we encounter a caravan of camels, tended by four Maasai. Camels in this part of Africa? Well, they are not wildlife, but rather an alternative to horses for transportation. Most of the camels are committed to tourist safaris and are trained for that purpose. The oddity of seeing camels prompted us to stop, pay the camel herders a few dollars to take photos, and pose for a ‘tourist’ group shot. Barbara was so fascinated she walked up to one of the young camels and began talking to it…camel whisperer? She may have queried whether riding a camel would be a more pleasant ride than our safari trucks. The camel nodded, ‘yes’ with a grunt.
Group photo at the camel depot.
Barbara, demonstrating her hidden, Camel whisperers talent.
Resigned to our current plan, we returned to our vehicle and started on the 80-mile drive across a dust bowl. The dirt road resembled a washboard, but every couple of miles, we would pass through a soft desert sand spot, that required us to slow down to a crawl as we picked our way through the ruts without tipping over or getting stuck. Clear of these soft spots, Ely would speed up to about 50 miles per hour. He explained that going really fast across the washboard was actually much less rough, less jostling than going slow. Really? Our vehicle screamed with pain, rattling so loud that we could not hear each other. If the sound level of a jackhammer is 100 dB, we must have been experiencing a sound level of 140 dB…an aircraft carrier deck. Without earmuffs! Behind us, we left a cloud of dust. Our second truck stayed back at least a mile so they wouldn’t eat our dust.
Driving the bumpy, arid, dusty Serengeti savanna
The air inside was stifling. We rolled down the windows (no power windows on this puppy). As soon as we saw an oncoming vehicle, Donna on the left side of the truck, and I on the right would quickly roll up the windows. This modified truck, of course, wasn’t configured to give us a lot of clearance to crank the window handles. My finger knuckles were scraped and bruised…just a half turn at a time, please. A half mile after passing the on-coming vehicle, we would roll the windows back down. So the rhythm became: Go fast; roll-up windows; roll-down windows; slow to a crawl thru a soft spot; go fast! This is exhausting.
The grand entrance to the Serengeti
We stopped at the entrance to the Serengeti National Park, a signed arch out in no-mans land as the sole marker, to get a photo as proof that we were indeed in the park. As the sun was setting, we entered an area with drought-stricken trees in front of two rock faced hills. Our destination, The Pioneer Camp, was tucked up against the mountains. As we approached the camp through twisting turns, boulders, and rocks, we saw several three-foot, square, blue cloths hanging from trees. Ely explained that these clothes are saturated with an insect killer. The Tsetse fly is attracted by blue and is the carrier of the sleeping sickness. Oh Great! We quickly ran a mental inventory of how many blue clothes we packed. None. We are safe!
Our Pioneer Camp’s private tent.
Finally arriving at the very rustic Pioneer Camp, just after sunset, we went to our assigned, personal tents spread throughout the camp property, all separated by more than a couple hundred feet. Ours was the furthest out, down the hill. As is the norm, we cannot make our way to or from our tent unless accompanied by an attendant. Each tent is furnished with a walkie-talkie to request an escort. Our tent was really a tent, with a rubber floor or sole, sitting on the ground. Hot water was only available in the evening…forget any morning shower. I was thrilled. This was just like real camping. The low ceiling in the tent demanded I keep my head bent down at all times. The nicely provide mirror above the wash basin was only functional if I knelt on my knees. The few battery operated lights were bright enough to avoid running into things, but not enough to see very much. Our room attended reminded us: Make sure your tent is zippered up at all times!
As we unpacked and settled in, we could hear animal sounds around us. We took imaginary security in the canvas tent. It will keep everything out! Right? After hailing an escort, we collected Barbara and Mel from the tent above us and made our way to dinner at the central gathering point. I use ‘gathering point’ rather than ‘lodge’ because it was just a large tent to cover the tables. Our dinner was set up outside the dining tent adjacent to a warm, snapping fire. Looking up, absent of light pollution, it was amazing to see the vast number of stars. It is regenerating for the soul. A peaceful ending to a ‘loud’ day. Quiet. Serenity! Except for…what is that sound…is that a lion roaring?
Dining outside the first evening at Pioneer Camp.
The food: Good, the ambiance: Wonderful, the company: Exceptional
No worries, the tent and darkness will protect us.
Preparing to retire to our tents, first, we need to hook up our phones, computers, and camera batteries inside the ‘Charging Tent,’ because there is no power in the tents. Thirty plus devices piled on top of each other, tethered to sets of power strips. Will they be safe? Will they still be here in the morning? Hakuna Matata, with a smile!
The plan for tomorrow calls for a casual breakfast, then heading out for our first exploration of the Serengeti.
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