Saturday, August 13, 2011

Country of Contrasts - Visiting the Maasai tribe at Ol Donyo Nyokie

Still processing: hard to believe that in the same day, I visited a tribe in rural Kenya (picture colorful robes and beaded jewelry - brilliant spots of color against the drab scrublands)... and sat at a café using the wi-fi only a few hours later.

And I'm still processing the sight of a Maasai tribal leader welcoming us into his manyatta (tiny homes of mud/clay, sticks and brush)... and then excusing himself to answer his cell phone!

Yesterday a group of us from HEART drove three hours out from Nairobi into the country to visit the Maasai village of Ol Donyo Nyokie, where HEART has helped implement several projects. I spent the whole drive in rapt conversation with Huma Kaseu (HEART's public relations manager) and the McGregors (a family also volunteering with HEART), soaking in all their stories and laughing at cultural differences.

At the same time my wide eyes were absorbing the things rushing past our hurtling vehicle (driven by the intrepid Jackson, who has no fear - if you possess any timidity whatsoever, you better not drive in Nairobi!). We passed an ornate Hindu temple, and then dozens of beautiful homes surrounded in green, set behind stretches of stone wall interrupted by beautiful sections of ironwork. We passed men running, men working, tall thin tropical trees with drippy leaves, the occasional guard carrying a rifle, women selling produce and painted jars and vases, people setting up small tables to sell newspapers and even baskets of candy - and then suddenly slums with corrugated tin roofs crammed up against each other, and people in scruffy clothes sprawled around makeshift fires burning in the middle of a used tire, their collection of belongings piled or scattered nearby. Tiny tin stalls no bigger than a walk-in closet served as stores and shops for every kind of product and service imaginable: electrical items, phone charging, “cafes,” auto parts, and anything else you can think of. Couches and furniture sat out in rows for sale right there on the dirt, at the side of the road. The dichotomy between the clean, colorful fabrics of the couches and the mud beneath them was startling – and the salesmen could be seen sitting on them, making use of their product as they waited for customers. Slums blurred by, then suddenly a nicer shopping center and a KFC – and back to slums.

Then we were leaving Nairobi behind, traveling out into the country and the scrubland. Scanning the landscape with all its sandy shades of brown and tan layering out to the horizon, my eyes felt dusty, thirsty, aching for color.

Tree we passed - you can barely see it though the mist
But then a Maasai child would appear alongside the road, blazing orange and red cloth wrapped over one shoulder, staff in hand, herding cattle or tiny little goats through the bush. Or it would be a group of young men, their clothes a blend of modern and traditional – or a lone elderly woman, her neck and ears dripping with colorful, beaded jewelry.


This visit to Ol Donyo Nyokie helped me understand a bit of the Maasai tribal structure, as Vickie Winkler (HEART’s founder) explained it to me: there is an Assistant Chief, under the Chief, under the Counselor (an elected position), under the District Officer, under the District Commissioner. We were there to deliver food and water to Counselor Jackson and the Lodokilani clan, as well as to visit his manyatta. The Counselor introduced us to his wife (we could call her the Mama), brother, and children, and welcomed us into his home. Sitting on the bed area – a flat section in the closet-sized home covered in cow hide – we found it surprisingly comfortable!

The others asked the Counselor a few questions while I just sat soaking it in – my first time in such a home. I’ve seen photos often enough, but sitting there with the smell of wood and animal hide and smoke around me was quite a bit different. “If you want to come one day to sleep – guest house!” the Counselor told us, laughing, gesturing around at the manyatta.

“You have a beautiful home and a beautiful Mama,” Catherine told him. She was beautiful:

The Counselor's wife inside her manyatta

The Counselor also told us a bit about their lifestyle, including the fact that his home is located 20 kilometers away from any water – really, there is none. Especially during this current drought ripping through East Africa, life is hard for the Maasai. He told us that they now buy their food, instead of hunting like they used to; but they still retain pride in their tribe’s reputation. “We Maasai, we don’t fear animals,” he said. “But no animals here. Maybe some hyena… but hyena, we say, it fear everything.” He also said he now employs people to take care of their animals so that his children can go to school.

Counselor Jackson’s children were lovely… the little ones sat shyly on the rocks, gazing at us with a mix of fearful eyes and big grins (especially when we handed out some chocolate granola bars!). One little one, probably no more than two or three, started crying and waving his hands when Huma came near, telling him in Swahili to “go back, go back to the bus!” Huma cracked up at that one. The older daughters (and the Mama) sold us some beaded jewelry they had made, strung up on display on the branches of a bush.

Passing out granola bars to the kids




Next, we drove down the road a little ways to visit the Chief’s office, currently manned by the Assistant Chief. Today, the tribe had just received a donation of 60 bags of maize and 9 bags of beans – meant to feed 600 Maasai families. As we arrived, we entered a crowd of brilliantly dressed women and children, all waiting in line to receive their portion of the food: one bucket’s worth of maize.




The bags of maize to be distributed to the families
Down the path we visited the tribe’s clinic, built and supplied partially through HEART contributions. A young girl, Evelyn, was introduced to us as one of the managers of the clinic (though they said she had received almost no first aid training). 
 
Evelyn, who works at the clinic
Evelyn's daughter Abigail.
Before entering the clinic, the Assistant Chief showed us a chalkboard they had used for record keeping. It listed things such as how many children had come in to be de-wormed, how many kids had received immunizations, how many mothers had come to the clinic to deliver their babies and how many had delivered with unskilled attendants, and more. You can see the numbers for yourself: 


The clinic at Ol Donyo Nyokie


 Finally, they showed us the school HEART had helped build, as well as the girl’s dormitory they are in the process of building (so that the girls don’t have to walk such far distances each day to attend class). School is not in session during the month of August, when the children take a month break, but the facility was pretty nice for being out in the middle of nowhere. They could use more supplies – but it’s a start.


We had only visited a few hours, but considering everything we had learned and absorbed, it felt like far longer. On the way home, to complete the afternoon, we drove straight through a herd of cattle. Surrounded by a mooing cacophony, I couldn’t stop laughing. Kenya is a country of contrasts and dichotomies, it seems, retaining its traditions while assimilating certain inevitable parts of modern life – cars, cell phones, internet. Case in point – a member of the tribe in traditional robes, wearing a modern hat, leaning absently against our truck: