What an adventure filled weekend. Anika and I teamed up with a group of med students (Aussies of course) and arranged to visit the volunteer house security guard Zaki’s Massai village. My only experience of Massai so far is of men dressed in the distinctive vibrantly coloured robes paired with staff-like sticks walking around town. I just discovered that every 7 months the Massai hold circumcision ceremonies in which the entire tribe must walk a designated path every night and I was lucky enough to witness the procession. Admittedly I was hugely intimidated when I hopped out of a taxi one night to find a mob of stick yielding men marching towards me, their eyes and teeth glowing in the dark.
During the 3 and a half hour journey to the village, we slowed to avoid a huge roadblock which turned out to be a horrific motorbike accident. I’ve never witnessed anything so raw; a crowd had gathered of wailing women and unattended bodies were strewn across the road – one of which I’m certain was dead. The med students questioned amongst themselves their ethical obligation to assist, but I remembered what another volunteer told me when they came across a corpse on the street a few weeks ago: “Don’t ever put yourself in a situation where you might be questioned for your actions, you’ll certainly face moral dilemmas but you already attract enough attention without endangering yourself.” Feeling awful, we drove on knowing that no ambulance was coming and feeling slightly less secure crammed into an over-packed van without seatbelts.
I was so impressed how Zaki was able to navigate us for hours of off-track driving through dusty nothingness to at long last the Massai village. Quick run down of Massai culture – Massai are Kenyans who live nomadic lives in small communities eating only the cattle and goats they herd. Women walk for 12km for water and sleep with all their children (husbands sleep apart) on cow leather inside huts made of mud, cow manure and sticks. Children are educated in the Massai language and may only marry other Massais, girls often at the ripe age of 14 or 15.
Stepping out of the van, we were greeted with hundreds and hundreds of flies and a procession of jewelry clad villagers chanting and singing in a way I can only describe as hypnotizing. Adorning us girls with necklaces and taking us by the hands, we were lead (doe eyed I’m sure) to dance, jump, chant and laugh with the Massai – such a joyful experience! After much singing, we were invited to explore the tiny houses which were almost suffocating and very dark (no power of course) and then welcomed with soft drink which the Massai kindly de-capped for us using their teeth.
We had heard it was customary to buy a goat from the flock, kill it and share the meal, so a goat was chosen and Michael went off behind the houses to do the deed whilst the rest of us pondered the fate of the goat and whether to drink the blood, a grand tradition for Massai. Following some tears from Anika, Michael returned to report that we in fact didn’t have to kill the goat but could instead make a donation to each of the families in the village. This news was received much more warmly and thus our goat lived to see another day. Or at least another afternoon until dinner.
In parting, the women decorated the tree branches with jewelry right off their necks for us to purchase, and I’ll admit the presentation made the beads and bangles much more alluring. Always keen to barter, I made some beautiful authentic purchases.
Mount Meru Waterfall Trek
Mount Meru looms over Arusha, and whilst I have absolutely no desire to climb it, the waterfall hike was highly recommended to escape from the dust and pollution of the city. I probably should have considered bringing joggers with some tread or perhaps exercised sometime in the last, say 5 months, but the peaceful walk I envisaged was quickly replaced with 6 hours of pain. Whether stomping up the mountain trail or scrambling down steep muddy cliff faces, I don’t think my heart rate dropped below 100bpm for quite some time. The rash provoking plants we were told not to touch seemed to line the path and inevitably I went sliding down the slope clutching at foliage and ended up itchy and battered. I feel that when guides, foot-holes and rough wooden railings are a necessity, the word “trek” should be replaced with “adventure mountaineering.”
That said, the hike along the river leading to the waterfall was really beautiful; I’m pleased to have seen the lush, green, jungle side of Tanzania. For dry season, I was impressed with the torrent. The hike back was strenuous to say the least, but I thoroughly enjoyed passing the large group of age 50+ disgruntled tourists who were slipping and sliding down the trail. Our guides lead us back down to Arusha through many small townships, and this was really a highlight of the trip. I’d been wondering where all the locals were living after only seeing the heavily gated homesteads on the main roads, so it insightful to observe the variety of wooden houses complete with corn crops and a smattering of cows in the front yard. Some locals wanted money in exchange for photos of their homes and let’s not forget how children flung manure at us when passed by without distributing gifts!
It was clear to see the townships growing closer to the main roads; I’ve never observed so many advertisements for “hair cutz” in my life. I treated myself to ice-cream as a reward for burning all those calories – dairy is a rarity with most products made on powdered milk. I remained in a lethargic state for most of the afternoon, which was spent chilling at home with roomies Monica (Canada), Hlin (Iceland) the neighbouring kids and our homestay siblings until the pinnacle of each day – dinner. Not looking forward to the aches of tomorrow.
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