With the Maasai

During my first assignment in Tanzania, I was working with Maasai and Arusha people in rural villages, mostly but not always with school kids.  Both are proud, traditional tribes and it was a privilege to work among them.

Tanzania is not so well known, and many people struggle to locate it easily on a map. Here in New Zealand, because we have a sporting association with South Africa, people assume that’s where we worked. Tanzania is actually part of East Africa, the country south of Kenya, and with Lake Victoria to the north. Across the lake is Uganda, better known for Idi Amin as well as its gorilla population, and to the northwest is Rwanda famous for gorillas and infamous for the genocide and Burundi as infamous for genocide.  

History is important so will indulge in some: Tanzania gained Independence (Uhuru - meaning freedom) from the British in 1964 and became Tanzania by the joining of Tanganyika and Zanzibar. Julius Nyerere, the first president remembered reverently as The Father of the Nation, made some changes post Britain that he deemed were necessary.

Under his villagisation program the nomadic way of life was to cease and people were grouped into newly formed village areas where there was to be schooling, health services and churches. In some cases, soldiers forced people to settle and again sometimes the villages were not situated in the best environment. The only building materials these new village people had available came from the local vegetation, and so environmental degradation was accelerated.

It was natural the tribal peoples joined with their kin in these villages, and while today there is intermingling of tribes within villages, very often there may be only the one tribe. This is especially so within the more remote rural villages.

It is perhaps confusing to the uninitiated that ‘our’ main city was Arusha and there is tribe that is ‘Arusha’. The names were not made for the convenience of English speakers, in Swahili the plural suffix for people is Wa, so the tribes people are WaMaasai and WaArusha. [Even now I’m not sure that the second capital letter should be used, but for me it is a mark of respect.]

Around Arusha and beyond the Maasai have grouped mainly in the less arable land, for after all the Maasai were not traditionally arable farmers - though many are today. Thus as herders they lived in the drier areas.

The Maasai culture is much more traditional compared to most of the other tribes and the Arusha tribe is less so but in many respects they are similar. Other tribes see them as backward, because they keep to their tradition rather than accepting modernity, but that is perhaps intertribal banter. As far as clever, wise and forward thinking goes, the Maasai and the Arusha people are no different to any other people on this planet.

They simply love their culture and thrive within their traditions. I knew kids from my work in a primary school and on a later visit to bomas, I would meet the same kids who could not wait to take off their school uniform to don their traditional dress.

Close to the village of Kisongo, we picked up a young woman, dressed up in her traditional regalia, she had a shaved head, circular burns on her cheeks and was nothing short of beautiful! She spoke perfect English and had studied in Germany. She was back to marry a Maasai and live in a boma because, in her words, ‘It is a much better way of life!’

My co-worker for two years was a young Maasai fellow who had trained in forestry and this was his first forestry-related job. His training had been excellent and his knowledge was extensive. Joshia and I had planned that our first village visit would be to the village of Likamba, but first we would have to meet the village chairman, the Mtendaje (village executive officer), and the village elders. Joshia told me that the elders would be the toughest nuts to crack and final approval, or not, would come from them!

I had hatched a plan, but I needed to practice some Swahili to put it across, so I asked my host family to help.

One of the key environmental problems is erosion caused by wind and rain. The Swahili word for erosion is mmomonyoko, a word that rolls off the tongue!

At the meeting we all introduced ourselves and after each name an 'oyay' was called out by all! Put me in mind of an old-time union meeting!  Josiah whispered to me that they has decided to use only Swahili, so I would know what was said – Maasai have their own tribal language that  they enjoy using. I picked up some and asked Josiah to translate what I thought was important. I could tell all was not going too well and some complained that the trees attracted birds and other wildlife, which caused damage to the wheat crops grown there.

Josiah was asked to speak and he received respect and was listened to, but obviously he had not won the majority of them over. He took his seat and the chairman asked me to speak.

I had not warned Josiah what I intended to do, so I stood up, greeted them all and told them that all living things were part of nature and to remove one part out may jeopardize another. My advice was to respect the birds and other wildlife. I reminded them that the road into Likamba was damaged by erosion and that dust that choked them and blew across their land was fertility disappearing forever. Erosion was also those channels the rains gouged, so deeply that if a cow fell in there, it would be last.

I called one of the elders to join me at the front, and asked him his name. After he told me, I said that his name was now soil, a part of a farm. He laughed, embarrassed. The meeting was hushed. I told him that a farmer had cultivated him (the soil) for sowing and went to town for some special, expensive seed.

Next I asked him if he knew my name, but he could not remember, which embarrassed him in front of his fellows. I told him that my name was wind, and all there laughed, probably thinking I had muffed my Swahili!  I told him that the wind’s job was play gently and I pushed him lightly. He smiled back at me, not too sure about the manhandling. Then I said that the wind can become strong (the Swahili word is the same as angry) and I gave him a firm push! Surprised, he nearly fell over, taking some quick steps to right himself making his fellows laugh, nudging each other. I told him this was erosion and all their good top soil (fertility) was blowing away to Kenya!

I then called three more of the elders up and introduced each as the name of a tree and told them that their hands and arms were the roots of the trees. I asked them to hold firmly to the 'soil'. They gripped the man. Again I was the wind and of course they held the man firmly when I pushed gently. When I pushed hard, putting effort into my face without actually using it, the tree roots held the soil firmly. They did not want to show any weakness, Maasai don’t have any!

In the face of strong wind, the 'soil' held firm and I said that the trees had done their job protecting the soil and the farm from erosion.

There was back-slapping and handshakes, as well as laughter, the players had become heroes! The elders embraced our project and offered us their support.

News travels swiftly and the surrounding villages soon heard about the role play. We had instant access even to areas we had not expected to go.

Later I used this role play in all the villages and schools, especially the schools because the kids love to perform. It was one of those small things that worked well and was always fun to do.

Except for one remote village where I had chosen a little girl as the 'soil'. Always I picked boys, because I did not like the idea of pushing girls around. I chose this girl by mistake, and her teacher later told me she had a slight mental disability.

Anyway, the role play started well, but when I said 'the wind became strong' the literal translation is and then I become angry - the poor girl thought I was for real and took fright, running off to hide.

Of course the other kids laughed at her misfortune, but it embarrassed me! On the brighter side of this experience, I was able to console her to some extent with a tee-shirt that I was carrying as a prize for best tree planting.