Elaine’s story in her own words:
“In July 2003 I paid my first visit to Rombo, the most southern part of the Kenyan Rift valley and an area populated by the Maasai tribe. Prior to arriving the only thing I was sure about was that I would have a clear view of Mount Kilimanjaro every day and that most people would not be able to speak English. So after a 9 hour journey covering only 250kms (on roads that left every bone in my body rattled) we finally arrived in Rombo. I had travelled with my Maasai friend, Elijah, who had been living in Mombasa and with two other Maasai friends also from Rombo. I now freely admit I was totally ignorant of how people's lives can differ. I was over awed, over dressed and totally unprepared for the sights that met me.
It’s one thing to read the travel brochures look at the pictures and hear the stories of the Maasai but meeting them in their home ground is something that no book can prepare you for.
We arrived at the village. Now I thought a village was a collection of houses and shops where a minimum of 10 families lived. I discovered the village was two houses and one family and not a shop within 10 kilometres. I use the term HOUSE very lightly, for the house of Elijah’s grandmother was the traditional Maasai mud and cow dung, one room set in the middle of an area reserved for the cows and goats. The other structure was a wooden 3 room house with about 6 people living in it and that was where I would stay. It was a far cry from my beautiful 2 bedroom semi-detached bungalow in the suburbs of Dublin, but I came to love that little wooden house as much and maybe more than my house in Ireland.
The people seemed to appear from everywhere and before I knew it I was surrounded by 30 or 40 ‘mamas’ spitting on me and singing to me. Yes I did say spitting on me, you see that is the traditional Maasai blessing. Each one wanted to touch my hair, rub my arms, examine my eyes, check-out my clothes and in general give me a good going over. While I was a little intimidated at first, I found them to be most charming and good humoured and very innocent. The women wore the traditional Maasai red and blue and white clothes and the men red and black. The men's clothes are just a piece of material tied at the shoulder and left to hang down then clasped at the waist by a belt which in most cases contained a HUGE knife. Over this they wore another piece of material which was slung around the shoulders. The women have two layers of clothes, a red under skirt/dress with a blue and white over dress and then like the men a piece of material over the shoulders. Each and every man, woman and child was adorned with rows upon rows of beaded necklaces, row upon rows of beaded bracelets and earrings which hung from enormous holes in their ears. The singing and dancing went on until the early hours of the morning and even though I was exhausted I found it hard to drag myself away from the party.
Next morning, I woke very early and needed the toilet badly. I asked Elijah where it was, he told me ‘there’ pointing his finger. Looking in the direction of the finger I saw nothing only trees and the penny dropped that the ‘bush’ was the toilet. While I never admitted it to anybody at the time I was terrified, I was imagining scorpions, snakes and various other insects running up my legs. When I got back I decided to make myself some coffee. It took me an hour to get the fire going, the smoke nearly blinded me and having done all that - NO WATER. The nearest water is 5km away and somebody, always a woman, has to go carry a container on her back and bring the water. Needless to remark it was not me who volunteered. Later in the day when asked if I would like to shower I jumped at the chance, ‘get in the car so’ I was told. Of course I wondered where we were going and eventually found myself at a stream filled with cows and goats that were drinking, urinating and God knows what else in the water, along with young warriors washing their clothes and a group of Mamas washing cooking utensils. This was where I was to shower. Going round the bend of the stream I found there was nobody there and the water, since it was flowing from here to where everybody was, was a little cleaner. Being a little shy, I decided not to remove all my clothes and stripped down to a pair of shorts and my bra. I proceeded to wash myself and my hair in this cold but refreshing water and then I heard it - tsk tsk tsk tsk. Looking up I found I had an audience, a group of warriors openly sitting watching me and chatting about my progress. Since they didn’t seem to be embarrassed, I decided no need for me to be and I continued.
Later that day, I was invited to my pal Jonathan’s village for food. This time the village was a collection of 5 mud and cow dung houses all occupied by his brothers and their wives and one occupied by his mother. Entering her house, was like entering a black hole. There was no light at all apart from the fire in the centre of the room. I was told to sit on the bed, which was made of a cow skin stretched over wooden posts, extremely comfortable and beautiful to look at when my eyes finally adjusted. Chai (tea) was served as it always is in a Maasai village. The tea is made mostly from milk, tealeaves and sugar with a drop of water. After tea I was given a plate of the most delicious food I had ever tasted, chicken slaughtered in my honour and rice. I couldn’t have eaten more tasty food in a top class restaurant in Europe.
Every day brought a new surprise and treat. A Maasai wedding, a ceremony for warriors, a goat slaughtered in my honour and on and on it went. I felt as though I had been propelled back in time, no electricity, no running water, no cars, no noise and a sky at night that twinkled with stars. Entertainment consists of sitting around the fire telling stories with much laughter and an occasional tear. The radio is a luxury and a TV is a wonder to behold. Life is simple but tough yet everybody seems to be smiling and making the most of a very hard life. The women sit with the women and the men sit with the men. Youths stay on their own and children with their parents. Girls know nothing of eye shadow or lipstick and nobody worries about the hair salon - they simply shave their heads!
Having stayed for a week, I found returning to the ‘modern’ world extremely difficult. I saw all that I saw through the romantic eyes of a person falling in love with a people and a place. While I saw the hardships, they didn’t seem soooo bad. After all they didn’t have to worry about phones ringing, bosses shouting, cars breaking down or any of the other modern day problems. What I didn’t see was that people were starving, children were malnourished, women were suffering extreme back pain from carrying all that water and firewood, illness was rampant since the same water was used by the animals and the people. And while they suffered all this with smiles on their faces, the future for the children didn’t look good. So I returned to the modern world of Mombasa and returned to the village of Rombo as often as possible, each time I visited I was thrilled by the sights and each time I was more aware of the hardships the people suffered. After a year I went home to Ireland for a 3 month visit. It was then I decided to come back to Kenya and pitch my lot in with the Maasai and try to make a small difference for the people I have come to love and respect.
These people are noble and proud and open and innocent. I hope that the ‘modern’ world never comes to destroy them as it has so many tribes in Africa and I hope that in some small way I can improve their lives without disturbing their culture. They gave me a Maasai name – Narikuinkerra (‘Nariku’ for short) – this means brought by children. I hope I can not only live up to this name by helping the children but somehow help to shape a better future for the future generations of Maasai children.”
“In July 2003 I paid my first visit to Rombo, the most southern part of the Kenyan Rift valley and an area populated by the Maasai tribe. Prior to arriving the only thing I was sure about was that I would have a clear view of Mount Kilimanjaro every day and that most people would not be able to speak English. So after a 9 hour journey covering only 250kms (on roads that left every bone in my body rattled) we finally arrived in Rombo. I had travelled with my Maasai friend, Elijah, who had been living in Mombasa and with two other Maasai friends also from Rombo. I now freely admit I was totally ignorant of how people's lives can differ. I was over awed, over dressed and totally unprepared for the sights that met me.
It’s one thing to read the travel brochures look at the pictures and hear the stories of the Maasai but meeting them in their home ground is something that no book can prepare you for.
We arrived at the village. Now I thought a village was a collection of houses and shops where a minimum of 10 families lived. I discovered the village was two houses and one family and not a shop within 10 kilometres. I use the term HOUSE very lightly, for the house of Elijah’s grandmother was the traditional Maasai mud and cow dung, one room set in the middle of an area reserved for the cows and goats. The other structure was a wooden 3 room house with about 6 people living in it and that was where I would stay. It was a far cry from my beautiful 2 bedroom semi-detached bungalow in the suburbs of Dublin, but I came to love that little wooden house as much and maybe more than my house in Ireland.
The people seemed to appear from everywhere and before I knew it I was surrounded by 30 or 40 ‘mamas’ spitting on me and singing to me. Yes I did say spitting on me, you see that is the traditional Maasai blessing. Each one wanted to touch my hair, rub my arms, examine my eyes, check-out my clothes and in general give me a good going over. While I was a little intimidated at first, I found them to be most charming and good humoured and very innocent. The women wore the traditional Maasai red and blue and white clothes and the men red and black. The men's clothes are just a piece of material tied at the shoulder and left to hang down then clasped at the waist by a belt which in most cases contained a HUGE knife. Over this they wore another piece of material which was slung around the shoulders. The women have two layers of clothes, a red under skirt/dress with a blue and white over dress and then like the men a piece of material over the shoulders. Each and every man, woman and child was adorned with rows upon rows of beaded necklaces, row upon rows of beaded bracelets and earrings which hung from enormous holes in their ears. The singing and dancing went on until the early hours of the morning and even though I was exhausted I found it hard to drag myself away from the party.
Next morning, I woke very early and needed the toilet badly. I asked Elijah where it was, he told me ‘there’ pointing his finger. Looking in the direction of the finger I saw nothing only trees and the penny dropped that the ‘bush’ was the toilet. While I never admitted it to anybody at the time I was terrified, I was imagining scorpions, snakes and various other insects running up my legs. When I got back I decided to make myself some coffee. It took me an hour to get the fire going, the smoke nearly blinded me and having done all that - NO WATER. The nearest water is 5km away and somebody, always a woman, has to go carry a container on her back and bring the water. Needless to remark it was not me who volunteered. Later in the day when asked if I would like to shower I jumped at the chance, ‘get in the car so’ I was told. Of course I wondered where we were going and eventually found myself at a stream filled with cows and goats that were drinking, urinating and God knows what else in the water, along with young warriors washing their clothes and a group of Mamas washing cooking utensils. This was where I was to shower. Going round the bend of the stream I found there was nobody there and the water, since it was flowing from here to where everybody was, was a little cleaner. Being a little shy, I decided not to remove all my clothes and stripped down to a pair of shorts and my bra. I proceeded to wash myself and my hair in this cold but refreshing water and then I heard it - tsk tsk tsk tsk. Looking up I found I had an audience, a group of warriors openly sitting watching me and chatting about my progress. Since they didn’t seem to be embarrassed, I decided no need for me to be and I continued.
Later that day, I was invited to my pal Jonathan’s village for food. This time the village was a collection of 5 mud and cow dung houses all occupied by his brothers and their wives and one occupied by his mother. Entering her house, was like entering a black hole. There was no light at all apart from the fire in the centre of the room. I was told to sit on the bed, which was made of a cow skin stretched over wooden posts, extremely comfortable and beautiful to look at when my eyes finally adjusted. Chai (tea) was served as it always is in a Maasai village. The tea is made mostly from milk, tealeaves and sugar with a drop of water. After tea I was given a plate of the most delicious food I had ever tasted, chicken slaughtered in my honour and rice. I couldn’t have eaten more tasty food in a top class restaurant in Europe.
Every day brought a new surprise and treat. A Maasai wedding, a ceremony for warriors, a goat slaughtered in my honour and on and on it went. I felt as though I had been propelled back in time, no electricity, no running water, no cars, no noise and a sky at night that twinkled with stars. Entertainment consists of sitting around the fire telling stories with much laughter and an occasional tear. The radio is a luxury and a TV is a wonder to behold. Life is simple but tough yet everybody seems to be smiling and making the most of a very hard life. The women sit with the women and the men sit with the men. Youths stay on their own and children with their parents. Girls know nothing of eye shadow or lipstick and nobody worries about the hair salon - they simply shave their heads!
Having stayed for a week, I found returning to the ‘modern’ world extremely difficult. I saw all that I saw through the romantic eyes of a person falling in love with a people and a place. While I saw the hardships, they didn’t seem soooo bad. After all they didn’t have to worry about phones ringing, bosses shouting, cars breaking down or any of the other modern day problems. What I didn’t see was that people were starving, children were malnourished, women were suffering extreme back pain from carrying all that water and firewood, illness was rampant since the same water was used by the animals and the people. And while they suffered all this with smiles on their faces, the future for the children didn’t look good. So I returned to the modern world of Mombasa and returned to the village of Rombo as often as possible, each time I visited I was thrilled by the sights and each time I was more aware of the hardships the people suffered. After a year I went home to Ireland for a 3 month visit. It was then I decided to come back to Kenya and pitch my lot in with the Maasai and try to make a small difference for the people I have come to love and respect.
These people are noble and proud and open and innocent. I hope that the ‘modern’ world never comes to destroy them as it has so many tribes in Africa and I hope that in some small way I can improve their lives without disturbing their culture. They gave me a Maasai name – Narikuinkerra (‘Nariku’ for short) – this means brought by children. I hope I can not only live up to this name by helping the children but somehow help to shape a better future for the future generations of Maasai children.”