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.

The suitcase

On a recent trip out to Maasai land, we stayed at a boma belonging to a man named Saigare. As you can see in the picture, the area is very dry so he had separated off the thinner cows to send them off to better grazing where there had been rain. Three or four warriors went off with them and the lad in the picture above was the ‘suitcase’ who followed after them!

Chai dilemma

With no prompting from any adults, these two little lads shared their chai, taking one sip each and then passing the cup to the other one. The dilemma now was – who was going to finish off the last little bit?