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.
