Three Towns in East Africa

Kenya and Tanzania are all about the animals, and there are certainly plenty of close-encounters of the animal kind to talk about, but there have been unique opportunities to learn about their cultures on our trip. We have visited three towns that I would like to share with you: a small rural village in Tanzania, a Masai village in Tanzania, and the city of Nairobi.
  First, it never really occurred to me that a developing country meant that not only is there no infrastructure (read: paved roads), but people are living as they have lived for a great many years. The small village we visited in Tanzania was broken into tribal trades, that is, there were four tribes in the town (of the 125 that compose the land of Tanzania), and each specializes in a specific expertise. We first visited a family living in a normal stick and mud house with four kids and their extended family, surrounded by banana trees and stray dogs. These were obviously banana growers. Through the mosquito ridden grounds of this family's house, we saw the expanse of rice patties that another tribe farmed, spending hours each day in the field with small huts for small children to play in while parents worked a 100ftx100ft plot of rice seed that would eventually yield 100 kg of rice. Across the street of the town, and past multiple ladies carrying 30kg+ bags of potatoes on their head (it is quite a sight) we entered a thatched roof tent surrounding the wood workings of the 7 men whose tribe specialized in carving all of the traditional African wood work that one sees in souvenir shops. We purchased a pair of candlesticks from the gentlemen who made them for a paltry $18 for his three days of work. Some pieces took these men 1.5 months to make and the men must make any animal that they see in a dream! Their wives, as it seems is the case everywhere here, took care of pretty much everything else in their lives such as family, food, and shelter. Our fourth tribe were beer makers. Not regular beer mind you, but banana beer that was made from some drying process of bananas. It was amazing to see the hard work and craft person nature of this small town, which was only surpassed by seeing the unique tribe in Africa, the Masai.

  We were greeted in the Masai village of 250 people by 40 men and women dancing and singing to a traditional tune that was punctuated by a guttural male chant and a female song that reminded me of the opening of the Lion King. The Masai are like the Amish of the African world. They are one of the largest tribes and have not integrated at all into modern society. They wear traditional clothing including elaborate jewelry, extreme earrings, colorful blankets that are worn as robes. Each Masai carries a stick to herd his cattle, the life blood of the Masai way of life. They are nomads who construct homes for 1-6 years before moving their cattle to another area. After the typical jumping contest during the greeting ceremony (some of these guys could have been in the NBA, seriously), Michelle and I were taken into a typical home by the son of the town chief. This home required us to squeeze in, and was made of sticks and cow dung for waterproofing (again, it was completely constructed by women, while the men herded cattle or stole cattle from others because they believe that all cattle are for the Masai). The house had one small hole for ventilation, two beds, a wood fire for cooking, and a small pen for baby animals. In this space of approximately 80 square feet, four or more children, parents and perhaps grandparents would live. An unbelievable feat, and an unbelievable experience to see a people choosing to live this way. The son of the chief who escorted us was proud that he, at 24, was about to ascend to chieftainship because he was well liked, and his father would soon step down (although, this son was only one of the many that the chief had by his four wives). Interestingly, the government supplies water to the Masai and allows them to graze in national parks so as to keep any conflict with them to a minimum and to prevent their cattle from destroying farm land. Meeting the Masai was an extremely strange experience that left me the proud owner of a beautiful beaded talking stick (another accessory held by males to accentuate their points) in lieu of my watch that I traded with the son of the chief. Apparently, I should have just been glad that I was not offered any traditional Masai food: sour milk and cattle blood.

The third town experience was seeing modern Kenya. Nairobi is the center of East African government, commerce, and population. The city has 4 million residents, 2 million of which live in Africa's second
largest slum, Kibera. Initially, the presence of about 4 high rises, a beautiful parliament building, and a gorgeous private road connected the house of the president to one of the nicest hotels in the city seemed lovely. A drive to the hill in the middle of the city showed us the headquarters of Coke, Citibank, Barkley's Bank, the British Consulate in beautiful areas. We also saw myriad enormous government offices that were almost as ugly as Boston's city hall including the Ministry of Fisheries and the Ministry of Road (after days of Kenyan roads, my back and butt have insisted upon the emptiness of this particular building). Nairobi seemed like a normal city with a lot of extra security, a lot of people walking, and horrible traffic. But we toured the slums today, and there is nothing like it. It is a mini world that is inaccessible by cars and if completely full of mud and stick buildings, children, and sewage in ditches on the road. We walked in the slums for a full 2 hours along the main roads that were lined with flies, stray dogs, and fish, chickens, and beef slabs sitting on the street. Small health clinics by aid agencies dotted the alley ways as did cafes and people frying the fly invested fish. Children called out "white person" in Swahili, and said the only English they know "how are you?" every five seconds. A small group of children wanted to shake our hand and follow us as we wandered the every winding roads (we didn't dare go off the main path, for even our guide said that he would be lost in a moment).
  Everything could be bought second hand here, including OSU sweatshirts or N'Sync 2002 tour t-shirts that were certainly donated in the US at some point. We passed the Cincinnati Limited store, specializing in cheap phone cards (apparently, this Ohio city has an appealing name to Kenyans wanting a store name). We passed stores specializing in herbal medicines and we passed hair salons suspended above 3 feet of rushing sewage water. Kerosene and coal was being sold for cooking, and everything could be found within this fascinating little world (including Halal meat) either in the stores, in the trash or in what
comprised the ground cover. Few people seemed to mind our presence, although one women seemed angry and embarrassed that our guide would take white people to see this area of her country. After a thorough shower, I reflected on what I found most striking after the total lack of sanitation...the community and life of the slum tenants. These people who pay no rent, and may even have a satellite for TV but not enough money to rent even the $100 apartments that are readily available lived in dignity. They sat in salons and had their hair done. They lived in filth, but ALL had pressed shirts that were cleaner than mine. There were hung plants for beauty, and gardens to grow vegetables. There were movie houses, and there was a large dirt area filled of kids playing soccer, waiting for the newsman to come to the public gathering area to fill in the details of the preceding day (the same area in which the President comes to give speeches). People were joking, kids were playing everywhere, and life was moving along, dare I say, even vibrantly in the world of the slum.