our maasai goodbye

day 4 with the maasai

we’ve joked a lot about there being many men in lengasti in search of more wives. gladness will playfully ask how many cows we’re asking and we always say some absurdly high number it would be impossible to come up with. That’s how they do it here, if the men can offer the number of cows the woman (or rather girl in most cases) is asking, then they will be married. can you imagine if that were the way marriage happened in the states?!

breakfast was as filling as every. they make a variation of chipati for the morning that has more egg in it, very much like a crepe, and it is delicious!! we also had my new favorite treat, they cut these small, buttery avocados in half, fill the middle with honey straight from a hive nearby, and you eat it with a spoon. an unlikely combination that could not possibly taste better! I think I’ve broken my ability to feel full. we eat breakfast outside, im comfortable in my fleece and the day looks like it’s shaping up to be sunny. gladness pulls up her truck and starts blasting some local music to wake us up. we’re eating breakfast with the maasai warrior who saved my arm and I smile at him so frequently I think he’s a little creeped out. gladness eats meat for breakfast, pigeon, two to be exact. we saw the birds alive last night, the ladies who work in the kitchen buy them from the children who catch them for fun. I finish my avocado and feed the leftovers to simba, the small dog that lives at gladnesses. she’s pretty cute and ironically tiny to be named lion, but she has a fierce personality :)

poor jennah’s been feeling sick. she hasn’t traveled much and has shown no caution when it comes to eating the food here. not that we really have, but three of us have traveled enough that our bellies are used to insult – at least so far. thu and I are shocked we have yet to feel even remotely strange after all of the crap we’ve eaten here, street food and all, and amy’s had a few tough stomach days but for the most part has done well.

after breakfast we head out on our final mission… we walk out to one of the bomas, past donkeys and cows and goats (some with plastic plates tied to their bellies to prevent them from mating – it’s pretty interested and confused us at first, but gladness says some of the goats are not meant to make sex with the other goats). if you want to cause a frenzy in a maasai village, here’s what you do… walk to the center of one of the larger bomas carrying several non-descript bags filled with candy. just being mzungu will draw attention of the children and adults alike, so when they come over to investigate have your maasai speaking translator (in this case gladness), tell them there’s lots of candy in the bags and it will only be handed out once the children have been gathered from all of the nearby bomas. it also helps if you show some of the candy, and maybe hand out one piece or two to whatever lucky child happens to be bold enough to approach you. it shows you mean business, and you’re not bluffing about the goods. this is what we did today and I have never seen children run so fast. their tiny, tattered shukas streaming behind them, they split off in every direction to spread the word.

we stood abandoned, making eye contact with each other that could only say ‘what have we gotten ourselves into?’. it was like the calm before the storm. everyone gathered on the front step of one of the nicer huts, preparing for the children to return. I moved away from the group and stood atop the front hitch of a wagon to take in the chaos that was about to ensue. And sure enough, the children returned in force, outstretched hands desperate for a piece of mint or buttermilk candy. I had grabbed a large bag of lollipops and held it hidden between myself and the wagon. the children hadn’t really noticed me standing a distance away, and I would take out a piece at a time and hand it discretely to any child who passed by. they would in turn go whisper to a friend or sibling, and the next child would come to receive a piece. It took longer than I thought for word to spread to the point where I was being swarmed, but soon I was relieve I had chosen to stand on the hitch, it gave me some advantage on the crowd and endless outstretched hands below. In the beginning I tried to remember the faces of the children I had given candy too, but soon I couldn’t tell which had went with which child, and I was trying to make sure everyone got some, especially the littlest, their hands overshadowed by the taller, stronger children. it was good, clean mayhem and I was having a fine time being the mzungu candy ferry.

unfortunately the men did not feel the same way and soon stepped in to assist. here’s what happened next, and I couldn’t do a thing about it except keep handing the candy in such as way as to try to put the children in the least danger of getting hit. yes, he started beating at the crowd with his wooden stick. that damn wooden stick that all the men carry around, I hate that stick. I saw the children disperse frantically before I realized he was beating blindly into the crowd. he would violently grab the wrist of a child and pull it forward for me to set candy in the hand. you could tell the children are used to be being threatened and beat with these sticks, they swiftly and skillfully avoided the blows, for the most part. one young girl approached with her lip split and I gave her extra candy, I felt so bad, filled her hands with more than she could carry. leave it to the men here to ruin a fun time. what was interesting, however, is that the children were so desperate for the candy that they were willing to risk a beating just for a piece. they would keep an eye on the stick, dive in for a handful when they thought it was safe, then retreat quickly, trying to avoid a blow. as the chaos died down it became more of a game. the feeling of terror settled and the man who had decided to take control of the situation began laughing as he flicked playfully at the children who had returned for seconds and thirds one too many times. they do the same thing with the candy that they did with the pilau, but this confused me even more because, though they don’t seem to have pockets, just as fast as you’d place some wrapped candies in their hands, it would disappear and they’d reach again with empty palms. some came up with mouths so full they couldn’t close their lips, other had stashed the candies somewhere on their person, and we had to be carefully not to give a majority of the candy to a few of the very tricky candy hoarders.

once all the children had more candy than they could stuff in their mouths and carry, we moved on. we knew there were other kids who hadn’t received the candy memo. we walked from boma to boma handing out candy. the children are mostly scared of us because they haven’t seen wzungus before. we would have to wave the candy around as a peace offering to convince them to allow us to approach. kurt was having a blast with it, he would see some kids in the distance and sprint over with such speed that they would literally cling to each other in terror or cower onto the ground, horrified at what this mighty mzungu might do to them. then he would come to an abrupt stop and offer candy and they’d realize he’s a rafiki and follow him around for the rest of the day. I kept giving seconds to the kids who had already gotten candy, and I would give it to the women too (it’s well known that women have a sweet tooth :) there was this one little boy who walked cautiously over to me, hand outstretched, I reached out to give him the candy at the last second said ‘psych!’ and pulled it away playfully. but as went to immediately place it in his hand after, he was already crying and running away so fast I didn’t know what to do. kurt, who had been next to me and had seen the whole thing, was laughing so hard he was almost on the ground. I felt so bad, but couldn’t help laughing too, I walked after the boy and handed him extra candy. understandably, candy distribution is no joking matter here.

we gave out candy until it was gone, hoping we had reached as many children as possible. it was a good time to be sure, despite the men getting involved. after, we headed to see an old bebe (that’s what they call grandmas here) who was allegedly 104. not sure how accurate this is, but she’s definitely old. they don’t have birth certificates and mothers never remember when their children were born. gladness has no idea what her birthday is. she knows the year based on her mother telling her that remembers being pregnant during some particular event, and she knows the season because her mother remembers the weather, but that’s about it, so she arbitrarily picked a date in november. It’s this way with almost all of the people in the village. so this bebe was sitting in her hut, quite plump for her age. she can’t see but she can talk, is what gladness told us. we stepped inside and were instantly overwhelmed with the terribly thick smoke. my eyes were watering and I was choking despite doing everything in my power to act like it didn’t bother me. we took in what we could see of the hut. it’s so dark, and with the smoke and black tar covering the inside of the roof (an indication of what their lungs must look like), you can’t see much. the window is about the size of a small cup, and there is no chimney. miserable! it was absolutely miserable and I hardly lasted three minutes inside. my eyes and lungs are still burning. I cannot imagine living in such terrible conditions for 104 years!! how she is still alive baffles me.

that pretty much sums up our time with the maasai. our long trip back to arusha was bumpy to say the least, but im happy to have a warm-ish shower, less food being shoved in my face, and a climate that is less dusty and dry. it was an unforgettable experience and I feel fortunate to have experienced a culture so very different than my own. staffing the clinic was also a great opportunity, and I hope we’ve helped at least some of the children we saw. there’s so much that needs to be done to improve the quality of life of these people, fortunately they have gladness and dr. lace working to make their lives better. we hope to do more in the future with the lengasti and we will certainly send next year’s students to dr. lace to help out.