The Maasai of Arusha

We have been here, Snake Park campground, for four nights and can’t seem to find the strength to leave. We’ve met a very friendly Maasai guy with a very contagious laugh named Jonathan. The first day we arrived he gave us a tour of their museum and a brief tour of the education center, behind the park, built by this one British guy, named Max, who lives here in a tent at the park also. That is a separate story which deserves its own blog. We were so impressed by Jonathan that we asked to see his village, which flattered him, so the next day we set out on a 30 minute walk to meet his family, a path that he walks twice a day to and from work.

Walking with Jonathan was pleasant and it wasn’t hard to see how proud he was to have us join him.  When I used to think of the Maasai people, those couple of times, I imagined just a bunch of people living off the land wearing only dirty red robes but when I looked closely at Jonathan I could see just how intricately he was dressed. Apart from his brilliantly tire-made shoes, he was covered in tiny beads and jewelry which hung around his arms, legs and neck. The bright red robes were loosely wrapped around his waist and over his shoulder.  Almost Roman like. He was spotlessly clean and wore a large knife that looped around his beaded belt and carried a stick, in the case of a hyena meeting. Other than Arusha’s progression and expansion, hyenas are the major threat to their land and livestock. Arusha is the nearest city approximately 25 km to Meserani where the snake park is located and where he lives.

He is married to a young, beautiful Maasai woman who is expecting their first child and lives on a compound (called a Boma) with his brother and his three wives and their four children and, finally, their mother.  They welcomed us whole-heartedly.

Jonathan is the only child out of five that went to school past primary. He speaks fluent English, Swahili and Maasai. He is hoping to learn Spanish and Chinese and to study tourism so he can start his own company here in Meserani.  He is also the only family member that works since his brother has children and must stay home to herd the cows and sheep.

When I asked him how many wives he would like, he laughed and smiled saying that his one is more than enough. It’s a tradition for men to have multiple wives but that’s not how he sees it. He wants only a couple of children which he can put through school and carry on the tradition of their people. Recognizing that their old traditions are becoming impossible he has learned to adapt and will past that on to his children. One of the major traditions that are now illegal in Tanzania is female circumcision.  There was a depiction of it in the museum we toured and even Jonathan shuttered. 

The males still get circumcised at age 18.  It is a stage which they must pass to become men and able to marry.  He said that if the boy cries during the surgery then he is shamed for life.  If he doesn’t, he gets to wear a head piece made out of feathers and have his face painted for the party afterwards.  Now I’m not entirely sure what Jonathan meant by “but don’t worry, we make sure to train ourselves how not to cry” but I probably don’t want to know anyway.

Jonathan invited Heath and I back anytime we come to Tanzania again. We can pitch our tent under one of the newly planted shade trees and live like Maasai’s for a while.

Walking away from this experience is a happy me with a handmade beaded necklace and a killer recipe for honey beer, the traditional Maasai drink for only elders.  I will invite you all over for my first batch when I get back to Portland. It’s made from honey, obviously, and aloe vera roots.

If Heath and I do return for a visit I can always send Jonathan an email.  He’s got an email address. And a cellphone.