Drought

It is hard to describe the effect the drought has on every aspect of life here. It affects one’s sense of wellbeing so completely that it’s almost as if people dry up as well as the environment. It’s like aesthetic starvation in a colourless desert.

Then it rains, the grass grows, new shoots appear, there is colour again and everyone has a new spring in their step. Our village is already green and lush but sadly it isn’t so everywhere yet.

We heard that it had rained in Maasaini and that the goats were better and the cows starting to eat again. Sadly when we went out there with food, we found it as dry and barren as ever. We were struck suddenly by how welcome the splash of reds and blues on the Maasai is in an otherwise brown land.



When we were camping there earlier in the year, we drank our early morning tea watching herds of cattle and donkeys walk past with gazelle and zebra in the background, all munching as they went. It was one of those moments that imprints itself on your heart because it’s almost too perfect to digest.



This is Melau with his first wife Tito. Then comes Nini, Naramatesho, Namayani, Natemuta, Satuma and Nosikito – yes seven wives, who have 37 children between them. And what is even more amazing is that they all say he is a good husband – an incredible feat for one man! Added to the 45 of his immediate family, are his blind mother, his daughters in law, his grandchildren, his brothers and aunt................ and those are just the ones we managed to identify.

Sadly, they have lost all 350 of their cows during this drought but when we turned up with food for the boma, there was nothing but smiles and genuine gratitude. They even killed one of their precious remaining goats in our honour to say thank you. It would have been great to have shared the privilege and the goat with all you givers!




We are not talking about starvation here, we’re talking about daily hunger, the sort that makes a man pick up every last grain of maize that falls to the ground as we pour it out.

Cows are like a savings account. Goats and sheep are the current account that you dip into as you have need. Some keep chickens as ‘loose change’ to buy and sell although they don’t actually eat them.



In one boma we found people so fast asleep that we had to shake them awake, having walked in through the open door of their huts. It was a Saturday afternoon, they had eaten on Friday and were passing the time until Tuesday when they could take a goat to the local market and buy food.

In another we were given a mug full of cold maize gruel as an expression of their appreciation – there is never any hesitation in extending their hospitality and sharing what little they have.

Again, thank you so much all of you who have given towards this food distribution. We wish we could 'beam you in' for an hour or two to be with us there!

A Sunday in Maasailand

The Maasai are considered a very romantic people by those of us whose lives seem drab in comparison. They are sometimes depicted advertising some earthy or exotic product that will stand the test of time in extreme conditions. There are many European women who have found romance with a Maasai ‘warrior’, chasing the exotic dream of power, rugged strength and pride, taking their place in the boma alongside their hero. It rarely lasts for long though. In truth, they are strong and proud but like every other people group, they have to ensure their survival in the unpredictable environment in which they live. And right now, there is little many of them can be sure of.



There is nothing romantic about living in the area we visited yesterday. The landscape is littered with dead or dying cows as people watch their beloved wealth fade away before their eyes. In the last 12 years I have never seen it looking as bad as it was yesterday. Where there was once grass, albeit dry grass in the dry season, there is now nothing but bare earth. Forgive us for such pictures, but it affected us deeply.



This is the scene outside the church at Baraka.



Thanks to the generosity of people back home, we were able to do another ‘food run’ yesterday. Everywhere we went, we were met with grateful thanks while we explained that we are only the channel through which the help has come. Whilst the Government is giving out maize to the very needy, the distribution process doesn’t always run smoothly enough for it to reach them.



Each family was given maize and beans and we have found soya beans that can be ground and made into soya milk porridge. This will be great for the children who have not had milk now for several months. We will have to teach people what to do with them as they had never heard of such a thing or seen the sample we took out to show them.

As we drove back to Arusha, it poured with rain in random patches. Even once the rains start properly, it will take 2 or 3 weeks for the grass to grow and then much longer for the surviving cows to return to health. Thankfully, we have not heard of people dying, but it will take a very long time for the Maasai economy to recover.

We've been to market!

There is much in the news at the moment about the drought in East Africa and many people are indeed very hungry. For the Maasai, the drought has caused massive losses of their most valued asset – their cows. We hear stories of huge numbers of cows dying, of herds being reduced from hundreds to tens and of some bomas losing their entire herd. Outside most bomas there is a place where they are burning their dead.



One woman this week arrived on our door step having walked over 30 miles looking for food. Her husband has left her with their 6 children and all three of her cows have died.

It is raining in Arusha but the rains have not reached all the outlying areas yet and cows are still being sold for a song. Once the rains hit Maasaini – which we are hoping they will very soon - the prices will rocket with so few cows left in the economy. With this in mind, we have been to market – several times – and this herd of scrawny specimens is the result. They will take a long time to bring back to good condition and we are feeding them up slowly and carefully. Some will be ready to give sooner than others.



Today’s total is 23 enabled by supporters of this project.

The black stone remedy

This woman had been stung by a scorpion on her foot and was in considerable pain. She is sitting here with a black stone on the wound which Lekoko had opened with a knife. The stone sticks to the wound and as she sat there for an hour or so, she said the pain was slowly drawn back down her leg until it left her foot all together and the stone dropped off. Black stones are an age old remedy for snake bites, stings etc all over the world and are made from animal bones. No scientific study is known which proves them to be effective and their value is debatable. However, this woman was happy with the result and that’s all that matters! Scorpion stings, although not fatal in a normal healthy adult here, are extremely painful and we have found that the stone helps every time.

Graham and Norman's August safari

Graham writes: We started the safari buying some Kenyan cows for the project – better stock and one a young bull calf for breeding purposes. The man was quite reticent but when we started bargaining he came alive, like most Maasai do, to extol the virtues of his cows and why they should be such a high price!
We put our usual marks on the animals that we had bought - the Laiser clan markings across the face and the Big ‘G’ on the rump.



We drove up the Rift Valley and cut across country into the dust.



As we drove near one boma, a young man and a load of children ran out begging for water. Their womenfolk had gone off in the morning and not yet returned. It was after 4 pm and they had had no water. Most of them had been sleeping to pass time and conserve energy. Lekoko opened up the maize sack and gave them some - about 40 kilos - and then gave them water which was gulped straight down.
Everyone was happy and waved us off thanking us and God profusely. It must have been so unreal for them that a couple of white men would come over the hill with food and water out of nowhere. We were to experience this again in several other places.



As the light was fading on that first night, we set off towards Saigare’s boma with him showing us the way. He began to take us through trees and dry river beds while he and Lekoko ran ahead in the headlights to make sure that the Land Rover could get through. A man who is used to walking everywhere and doesn’t know how to drive isn’t the best person to choose the path ahead in my experience! It was incredibly dry and dusty with a terrible following wind that obliterated everything from time to time.
In the end even Saigare lost his way home and asked us to stop and turn the headlights off. Way behind us we could see a dim torch light which was the boma signalling to us that we had passed so we did an about turn and found them. It is a ronjo boma - a dry season temporary boma - made up of a thorn fence and huts of leafy twigs through which the wind and dust blew mercilessly.



Luckily we were given a sheltered spot behind one of these with a couple of cowhides on which to put our mattresses.
Despite the late hour Saigare wanted to kill a goat for us. We had fallen asleep when someone came round with the liver so we chewed briefly through it with our host. We slept again and were woken up a second time for the meat! Sleep was again interrupted when some moran (warriors) came to the camp late and woke up the woman in the ‘hut’ right next to our heads asking for chai. They talked and joked whilst it was being prepared and drunk. There is no whispering in Maasai except to tell secrets it seems. Apart from that we only heard the laboured breathing of a baby with a bad cold!



The dawn was a wonderful display of light and warmth, although I tried hard to keep my eyes closed and catch up on my sleep. When I did open them I found an audience of four women standing watching me!



I soon forgave them when I had a cup of hot chai in my hand, which I make a habit of sharing with the children so we had an attendant flock of eager-eyed young ones. One of them was told to greet us and then between deep shy gasps gave us all the news of the boma, just as a grown man would do, whilst his father watched proudly in the background!



Next stop was the wells where they water their cows. The wind was still blowing relentlessly whipping up clouds of dust as the various flocks headed off in search of patches of grass to eat. The cows are being hit hardest as they need grass whereas the goats can graze on young leaves off the trees. We came across dead cows along the cow trails in many places.



It is reputed that the British dug the first wells to help the Maasai who have continued digging them since then. Each one is variously owned by a group of men with bomas and flocks in the vicinity. There is a small group of young men from other tribes who live and work here doing all the digging on contract. Saigare’s well had run out of water the night before so he had asked to water his cows at a neighbour’s well. He waters the cows in the evening and the goats and sheep in the morning. The water is thrown up in a half galloni - about 10 litres - in three hands up to the trough where the animals come down a path to drink.







Saigare showed us the skull of a hyena he had killed. It had large heavy incisors a couple of flat topped teeth and the back teeth which should have been molars were incredibly sharp and long single teeth. He took us to where he had tied up a piece of cow hide through which he had threaded two sharp sticks with meat on. Directly below it he had dug a stake into the ground and tied his sime (bushknife) to it pointing upwards. The hyena had come along and jumped up for the meat and come down right on top of the sime. Suddenly Saigare was grunting fiercely and running backwards and forwards waving his stick and sime agressively. He was apparently showing us how he saw off a lion that had come after his goats - very impressive show of psychological testosterone! I’ve often wondered what I would do if I met a lion. Statistically it has to happen at some stage if I keep going out into the bush.



We set off again through blinding sand finding a new way through the scrub. We had just cleared the thick scrub when the exhaust came apart and the engine started to roar so we made for a tree and cooked up some tea. I managed to make something up from a tree root and with Lekoko’s help we tied it in place - it lasted until I fixed the thing properly a week later!



At our final stop we found it was market day and as we were desperate for some water and to have a good wash we also headed for the water trough. We stayed again in Norikito’s boma in a hut that was partially built and very comfortable.





Jenny and Lisa joined us here and arrived just in time to dance with the women whilst the men slaughtered the goat under a tree out of sight of the boma - morans (warriors) can’t eat meat that has been seen by a woman.
We were given a portion that we set out on some leaves and sat and ate with the men of the surrounding bomas. It was very tender and we all relaxed and enjoyed it.

Memuti

Memuti is married to Nablo, has five children and lives at the foot of the Rift Valley Wall. He is a committed Christian and leader in the church whose wise counsel is greatly valued. He helps us with the Cow Project, looking after cows and advising us and has given us a small plot to demonstrate Foundations For Farming in his area.

Nosikito

Nosikito is a Maasai Christian woman who has a great heart for her people. She has a pastoral ministry in her community including two small churches and always has an open home. She is a widow with two adult sons and a daughter still in Secondary school. Although Nosikito didn't go to school herself, she has a sharp mind and has learnt to read as much as she needs to. She is very involved in all we do and is a key 'doorway' into the community.

Lekoko, Graham's right hand man on safari

Lekoko is a Maasai moran (warrior)of Il Korianga age set. He has worked for us as our night watchman for 7 years and now travels with Graham on all his Maasai trips, cooking, setting up the camp and interpreting both language and customs. He has also learnt the principles of Foundations for Farming and sets an excellent example on each demonstration plot to those Maasai who are more accustomed to putting the world to rights in the shade of a tree! He is here with his wife, Lande and their son Samwel

Land Rover - a man's best friend?

How hard can it be to take a 200Tdi engine out of an old Land Rover 110 and put it into a Land Rover 127 to replace its thirsty and increasingly sick V8? Simple said one expert, no problem said another, it’s just a question of lifting one out and putting the other in said the third. Should take you 3 or 4 days max said a knowing friend. And everyone agreed that it’s done all the time and is a simple job........................





Today is day number 15 and night number 6. By night I mean one of those days that starts at 8am and finishes after midnight. Those are the days when Graham is so tired that he grinds right through a vital cable.





And has it been simple? Perhaps we are the only people in the world who own a specially adapted Land Rover into which nothing, absolutely NOTHING, fits normally. So everything has been re-adapted, lengthened, shortened, twisted, bent, moved, new bits made and old bits cut out.

And what do I contribute? I take out endless cups of tea, adore, encourage, hold spanners and crawl underneath with a torch every now and then to retrieve washers or nuts that have dropped through so the work can carry on uninterrupted above.

And in 3 days time it needs to be ready for a bush trip with visitors who are arriving from the UK....................... simple, no problem, 3 days max!

The Battle in my Mind

We were given a Land Rover Discovery by some very kind friends nearly two years ago and I love it every time I use it. It is comfortable, I can listen to music and sing, I can lock the doors and windows when I go into town and feel safe, it’s automatic so my left leg no longer aches when I am in a traffic jam, which is EVERY time I go into town, and if I’m really honest, it’s a little bit of ‘home’.

Today the pick up was misbehaving and the old bush Land Rover can no longer be trusted for long journeys so we went to Maasai in the Discovery...............

We arrived in the boma and immediately a conversation started in my head between Lisa from the UK and Lisa in Tanzania and it went something like this:

L-uk : Oh no look at those kids all over the car, I’d better get someone to guard it while we’re here.

L-tz : Don’t be silly, if you fuss about your lovely shiny green car, it only widens the gap between you and them.

L-uk : But look at that one, he’s investigating how the light guards are fixed and I bet he’ll pull them off next...........

L-tz : Yes but you can’t expect to show them how to trust God when you ask one of them to guard your car against the rest of them.

L-uk: But it’s my lovely car.................

L-tz – Stop being stupid, relax and go and enjoy yourself...............................which I did and off we went to drink tea, chat, sing, pray and talk about John 3 – all with the car in view I have to admit.

Time to go home and what do we find? Names, and plenty of them, meticulously carved with a rusty old nail all along my lovely car. It seems that small people, not much higher than the bonnet, so well hidden from our view, wanted to show off their writing skills and we had provided a lovely green shiny board for them to do so. One side was clearly for Primary and the other for infants – and the prize in Primary goes to whoever carved ‘malaria’ so beautifully over the front wheel arch. On the infants’ side, the prize goes to whoever did that very imaginative extended swirly pattern above the sill.



The next conversation in my head cannot be recorded – psychologists call them hot thoughts for a reason and they are the ones that are best filtered before we open our mouths. Suffice to say that L-uk took the floor in that conversation!

I forgave the parents because they were equally outraged. They had seen my face and their consequent care and concern was pure kindness. It was when one woman, desperately searching for a remedy for me, suggested that I could fill the writing in with a green crayon or a small pot of paint that I let the hot thoughts go.

L-tz took over the conversation in my head and I wondered why I would expect people to behave according to my own principles – why should they? If I was in the UK, it might have been vandals smashing the windows, stealing the music machine or simply scratching the sides as they walked past. At least, I have a car that has been carefully crafted with the names of the people I was with today.

Branding cows at day break

I woke early enough to hear every rooster in Kikongoni crowing just as the sky was beginning to light up over the hills in the distance. Arriving at Ormondere’s boma, I found several women out milking and a couple of men standing wrapped up in their rubegas against the cold. Balozi and Lekoko, my two helpers, stumbled out of their houses muttering about ‘sweet sleep’, found the branding irons and we set off for Orlakaswai’s boma where the cows are kept. It was a cold clear morning.



There was no wood to be found so a fire was kindled using dried dung around which several young boys gathered to warm themselves while the men of the boma all stood wrapped in their blankets at the boma entrance and discussed the various cows that were to be branded.



As the small herd of youngstock, including our heifers, came within striking distance of the boma our animals were singled out. Stealing cows is still common and where people rely so much on income from their livestock, it’s vital to 'insure' their belongings by branding them.

When the irons were hot in the fire a heifer was taken by the head and the tail and with a twist of the head thrown onto the ground and pinned down by the neck with a hand inside its mouth firmly grasping the lower jaw. The back legs were then tied together and another person leant against the body holding the tail which was pulled up between the back legs.











The first marks were made under the eyes around the face and over the bridge of the nose. This caused the animal some pain and to distract it the person holding the tail would slap the sides of its stomach hard several times and say something comforting in Kimaasai.

I was trained in agriculture and enjoy sharing knowledge and insights into cattle and I have come to respect these people whose whole lives are based on their stock. It is amazing that from a very early age you can find small boys with a whispy stick herding flocks of goats and sheep in the middle of the bush. They have respect and care for their cattle and no fear although, from time to time people do get killed by their own animals.




Each of the animals received the marking of the Laiser clan. I had bought the right to use the Laiser brand from Ormondere, Nosikito’s father, for the price of a heifer. Thereafter he greets me by calling me ‘endaho’ (heifer) in Kimaasai and I, in turn, greet him the same way, showing that we have exchanged a significant present between ourselves and cemented a relationship.

As a final way of identifying the animals, they were all branded on the flank with a big ‘G’ to denote my ownership. This is done to deter the head of the boma, where the women are living, from selling the cows over their heads.



If a cow was a little frisky then a lassoo was made and hung along a stick and used to catch one of the back legs. Maasai always catch a cow by one of it back legs and then another man will pile in as soon as possible to catch the head and twist it around to put it on the ground. With bigger animals this can take some time and requires several people to join in until it is finally floored. One young heifer was very flighty and took off like a gazelle the minute it felt the rope around its leg. It jumped the thorn hedge and raced through the boma amongst the huts with a trail of young boys and murrans chasing it. It was quite a hew and cry until it was finally caught in the corner of the cattle kraal and dragged out to the branding area.



After the work, we drank chai and I paid off the young warrior from whom I had bought one of the heifers in the neighbouring boma. He had been forced to sell it as his young wife, the last of his late father’s nine wives in fact, had been in labour for four days. I increased the price of the heifer in order to help him out and agreed to give them a lift to the local hospital. He told me that she had been moved to another hospital and had successfully been delivered of a boy and that they were all home again and doing well.
As we left, the sun was well up and the main herd was making its way back from its early morning grazing towards the boma to be milked.

A trip to Nondoto

Our safaris usually involve loading the pickup with a couple of trunks with all the cooking stuff and food in them, dry sacs with bedding in, tents and a bag of clothes. Lekoko, one of our Maasai guards, comes with me on most safaris and takes his essentials with him - a blanket and his rungu (Maasai club)!



We set off, wallowing through the mud, in and out of puddles all down our lane to the tarmac road. It was a safari of faith as our lawn was under about 10 inches of water and it was cloudy and raining every day but the report was that it was dry and dusty in Maasaini. We had also heard that people were hungry and had 10 bags of maize flour on board. This is the rainy season and so it should be raining everywhere but this year is already different with intermittent rain and people have either planted three times or not at all. Maize is already up to 50,000/- a bag from its harvest price of 15-20,000/-.

As we climbed up over Monduli mountain where the tarmac runs out, it began to pour with rain. Lekoko and Nosikito were soaked in the back but the rain was so loud, no words could be exchanged and we just pressed on hoping that we would pass through it quickly and into the dry valley below. There were a few comments about maybe turning back rather than just going to get stuck out in the bush - a safari of faith with an unbelieving wife on board!



As we had hoped, the rain stopped as we came over the top of the mountain and began descending into ‘korna saba’ (seven corners in Kiswahili). Winding our way downhill -accompanied by the smell of burning brake linings – and onto the plains, we came upon a group of ostriches who took fright and ran down the road in front of us for some distance. It was a traffic jam that cheered us all up.



Our first stop was at a boma belonging to a man named Melau who lives with his 6 wives and 41 children, along with quite a few in- laws and grandchildren. Nosikito and Lisa chatted with the women about life and discovered that there had been enough rain to change the balance of existence, so that there was grass for the animals and the milk was beginning to flow again. They live mostly on a diet of milk and blood in various forms. They spoke highly of their husband who they said ‘Stays around here with us and doesn’t drink.’ They appeared to get on well because “If we argue and fall out with each other where will we go?” The children were fat and happy, although covered with the inevitable cloud of flies.



The next boma is where Norikito and her old mother live so we had a warm welcome. I was held onto by the old koko (granny) like a long lost son returning home. We went through the same procedure as in the previous boma greeting everyone according to their status in Maasai society. This is quite involved as there are many social distinctions and each has their own greeting that bestows identity and respect upon that person.



I had met Koko through her granddaughter who has a terrible skin condition who we helped to treat through a hospital in Arusha. On one of our visits back to the boma to check on the girl, as we were driving along ‘in the middle of nowhere’, we suddenly heard this shouting and whistling from behind. I looked around surprised, as there were no signs of human life around, no bomas and no herds anywhere in sight. We saw the koko’s son in law running along in his bare feet frantically waving us down. He took us to a nearby tree under which koko lay in an exhausted heap. They had been coming down from the hospital at Monduli Juu and she couldn’t go any further. It had taken them two days to get this far going from boma to boma – a journey of less than a couple of hours in the pickup.



We managed to get her into the front seat with me on one side to brace her and Lisa driving. As we drove off she looked up and thanked God in a very wobbly voice. As we bumped through potholes and bounced over rocks I put my arm around her to brace her as she slumped against me. I thought she might die right there in my arms so I prayed fairly earnestly for her. However, as soon as we got her home, her spirits revived enough for her to ask me for money as we were leaving! I was so surprised I laughed. Of course from then on I was her son with all the duties that go with that honour.

We sat round the fire under the light of a full moon and chatted about this community who appear to live happily because their way of life is unsullied by outside influence. They work hard to keep other people groups out and to define their boundaries, recognising the value of their own traditions. Nosikito remembered her childhood when they didn’t use maize but also just lived on milk and blood in various forms. She was thrilled to find people for whom it still works.