Today was definitely full of unique experiences. I went out into the areas around Lake Manyara to conduct interviews with the Maasai pastoralists there with two other students, Ana and Brandon, and a local guide/translator, Theobald. The way we conduct the interviews makes it interesting: They are not set up ahead of time, and we find people by wandering across the plains and approaching bomas where we see human activity. This time we were in a beautiful area surrounded by far off mountains and next to the lake. We made very slow progress, since we were wearing sandals and the ground was covered in low thorny brush instead of grass. After a few steps, the bottom of my flip flops were already completely covered in burrs, and every few feet we had to stop because someone had a thorn in his or her foot. When we finally reached a boma, we approached and asked permission to talk to someone, first explaining who we were and why we were conducting the interviews. The man at the first boma was extremely friendly, and answered our questions patiently while all his children (it looked like he had three wives) came up to us and petted our hands and tugged at our clothes.
Our quest for a second interview was more eventful. As we approached the next boma, a group of women crowded at the door of one of the bomas and watched us disapprovingly. I greeted them, but they didn't really respond. Our guide introduced us to the women, who finally greeted us but immediately asked if we had money for them, or at least food or sugar. We told them that we didn't, and that we were only students collecting information. They looked at us disapprovingly and said something about not wanting to see us. The eldest lady, who was seated by the door of the hut, prodded Brandon's leg with a long walking stick and said "Wewe!" ("You!") and then something that sounded relatively unpleasant. Our guide told us we should leave quickly, and we did. As we walked away, the thorns stinging again, we heard a deep voice call us back. We all hesitated; it didn't exactly seem like an inviting idea. Oh well. We walked back after Theobald called us over. A regal-looking man with a kind of scepter hanging from his neck greeted us warmly and sent all the women away with a wave of his hand. "Their behavior is very bad," he told us in Swahili. "They don't know anything." It was starting to rain, so he invited us into his hut, where one of his wives was sitting and cooking something on the fire. He explained to us that he was the Oloibon, or the leader of all the Maasai bomas around the area. He told us about his duties as Oloibon, and how he counts stones inside a calabash each morning to determine what the danger level for all the bomas was each day, and oversees the animal herding. He gave Brandon the special guest's chair and asked us all to sit down. I wasn't sure whether it would be polite to accept, especially as a woman, so I offered that his wife should sit first and we stayed standing and thanked him.
We all talked until the rain stopped, and then interviewed him outside with the help of a few other Maasai warriors who chimed in from time to time. Next to me, the old grandfather sniffed tobacco that he got out of a small plastic container which he kept hanging in the long loop in his ear.
The interview was fascinating, and we learned that unlike most pastoralists, he made hundreds of dollars a week (most seem to make about 20) and had over 400 cows, 200 goats, and 200 chickens. After the interview, he thanked us profusely for the visit and for the work we were doing, and invited us to come back again any time. If all goes well, I'll be returning to interview him for the video I'm starting, which he seemed happy about. As we left, he directed us to another boma to visit next and told us that we should mention to anyone who gave us trouble that he had sent us. What an experience.
No comments:
Post a Comment