Masai in Kenya: National Geographic meets Modern Consumption

The Masai are a gorgeous example of a resilient culture. For my part, I find I walk a delicate line with resilient indigenous cultures like the Inuit, Australian Aborigines, Korowai: I want to protect their way of life, whilst simultaneously want desperately to go see them, visit with them, learn from them. OH and I don’t want anyone else to get to do that either. Because these people should be allowed to live autonomously and not as zoo animals besieged by throngs of observers from the first world.

. . . The hypocrisy and self-centeredness is not lost on me.

But lucky for me, and the rest of the world, the alternative is not as dark as we think. I know the overall assumption is that if we expose an autonomous culture to modern society, they will inevitably assimilate and leave their traditions in the dust. But this fear operates under the assumption that “our” way of life is so undeniably awesome that OF COURSE anyone would want to assimilate as much as possible. Because we surely know better.

Ha ha, funny story. We don’t. And not everyone in the world would prefer to abandon their culture, their traditions, their history for a crack at living the “modern life.”  More often what I have observed (in my albeit limited experience) is that certain modern conveniences (like the cell phone, vaccinations, internal combustion) are helpful enough to warrant integration, while the rest of what the first world has to offer (Tivo, minivans, the Snuggie, Jersey Shore) is completely abandoned.

And from what I’ve learned in Kenya, the Masai are a solid example. 

(Photo taken at 5:30AM on the outskirts of Masai communal land).

The Masai are what I would call a celebrity culture. National Geographic conjures up images of mud huts with thatched roofs, women in humungous bright beaded jewelry dancing in unison, men draped in bright blankets readying for a lion hunt. And from what I can tell, this a fairly accurate depiction of ONE facet of the modern Masai culture.

In town I’ll run into the rare Masai tribe member. I should clarify that many many people will tell you they are “Masai” to sell you something. But few Masai who come into the city dress obviously, and the rest don’t really care if you know they’re Masai or not. General rule = If they tell you they’re Masai, they’re not.

Waiting for a matatu with me in town last weekend was an older woman traveling with her daughter and grandchildren. Her family was dressed in jeans and muted colors while she sat in stark contrast. Shaved head, lime green shawl, bright red blanket. Beautifully beaded earrings made of wire hung from several ear piercings and hung low past her neck. She stood out quite plainly and I suppose garnered some respect because there were thousands of us waiting in the cue for an outgoing matatu that afternoon and she was the only one with a chair.

In Nairobi (and probably in the whole of Kenya) the “Masai” tag has been totally commoditized. The flea markets are called “Masai Markets.” Vendors will claim to be Masai, even if they’re selling tupperware. When you roll up to a guide station in the national parks, a slew of men await you, many wearing Masai garb because who wants to get a regular guide through the park when you could be guided by a “real Masai warrior”?! A closer look reveals the 4” gauges in the ears of the barefoot guy to the right, wearing jeans and a t-shirt, smoking his hand rolled cigarette and not giving one shit if you know that he’s Masai.

Our guide was John. About an hour into our hike through Hell’s Gate he revealed he lives in one of the Masai villages. My favorite thing about John is that while we were all in our canyon spelunking gear, he escorted us wearing a tattered suit and plastic shoes. 

 

Not rubber. Plastic.

You can, for a price, even secure a “Masai Warrior” prostitute in downtown Nairobi. Can’t tell you if they’re the real deal. That was not a rabbit hole I wanted to go down.

This is the Masai mystique within greater Nairobi. A commoditized money making ploy used largely to manipulate tourists. But I was heartened to see this woman at the matatu stage on Friday. Respected, self-possessed, wearing traditional flair and simply traveling home with her daughter and grandbabies for the long weekend.

We were destined for Masai Mara, an absolutely amazing wildlife reserve in southeast Kenya. It also happens to be nestled deep in the Masai tribal communities.

The Masai in southeast Kenya are predominantly pastoralist, and by pastoralist standards, incredibly wealthy. Pastoralist livelihoods, to over simplify, are based around their livestock. Your herd of cattle represents your wealth, social status and quite literally serves as your savings account.

(These photos were taken from a moving car window so they’re terrible.)

From what I could tell, most Masai families out there owned upwards of 20 zebu cattle. More often in pastoralist communities you see more stratification: 3 cows here, 45 over there, the family down the street owns 14 . . . But across the board, this community seemed incredibly wealthy. And by wealthy I mean that an adult Zebu can sell for $3,000 - $10,000. And if each family has at least two dozen . . . How much do you have put away in your savings account, hmmmm?

We drove through early in the morning Saturday and it was everything Nat Geo had promised. Widely spaced compounds of rectangular mud homes, dried and cracked by the sun. Small groups of tall, lanky men herding and tending cattle. Women gathering with their children, chatting and laughing. Their brilliantly vibrant clothing was all the more beautiful against the monotone, brown dirt landscape.

 

The morning was impressively windy, bright and sunny, and just the lightest drizzle turned the dirt to a red clay color.  The road was entirely eroded by the rains, and the sound our rickety van was making absolutely ruined the peaceful morning for everyone, but beyond that I would have characterized the scene as picturesque.

As we approached the Mara, herds of zebras, groups of guinea fowl and lone giraffes began to appear amid the villages.

I mean, seriously. Eat your heart out Discover Channel.

At the park gate, however, we were beset upon by throngs of Masai women forcefully selling yet more Masai kitsch. I was totally expecting it, and kind of hoping they’d be peddling authentic wares instead of more of the bulk blankets, bracelets and necklaces available in downtown Nairobi. . .

They weren’t. I don’t know where this stuff comes from. The best theory I’ve heard is that it’s all made in the slums and someone from the villages drives in once a week to buy in bulk. Then it gets sold back to the visitors from Nairobi. One big circle of consumption. I guess if anyone should be selling it though, it’s these women.

Masai Mara was amazing by the way. I expected to see maybe a couple of Africa’s Big Five from a barely discernible distance and come out with some poorly focused photos. Not the case. Oh my goodness. Black rhino, 4 different breeds of giraffe, two families of hippos, crocodiles, herd of elephants right on the road, lions and their lionesses, and wildebeests wildebeests wildebeests. Highly recommended.

Unfortunately though, we learned that the uptick in tourism due to the migration was aggravating the animals. In particular, the elephants. And one of the women from the villages had been trampled last week. Which is depressing all on its own, but then to realize post facto that I was part of the problem, was quite disheartening and reminded me of that delicate line we walk.

When we left the park, we made a snack stop at the strip of Masai store fronts nearby. We bought fruit, shot the breeze with a few store owners, I had the most AMAZING hardboiled egg stuffed with kechumbari (I actually had three. It’s delicious. I’ll make it for you sometime) and watched the women selling kitsch descend upon a private school bus full of children. It was irksome and entertaining simultaneously and as I watched and ate my delicious egg snack, I meditated on how, even with the best intentions, it’s so hard to know what kind of harm or good I am doing on days like this. 

 

·      Support a wildlife refuge? Check

·      Become an unwelcome presence in the day to day shenanigans of said wildlife? Check

·      Potentially aggravate the wildlife and endanger the lives of locals? Check

·      Support local businesses and livelihoods? Check

·      Educate myself? Big check

 

I know it’s impossible to live without having any negative impact on the world around you. The best I think I can hold myself to is to try and be smart about it.