Elangata Wuas

(continued from previous entry)
Mirey and I also managed to make a trip out of town while she was here – we actually went back to the first place we had visited outside of Nairobi, and met another one of our old classmates, so it was a bit of a nostalgic trip. On Friday, we took a matatu for about an hour and a half out to Kajiado town, a little place on the edge of Maasailand that has one main street lined with small cafes and shops. There we met up with Allison, who also took part in the Canadian Field Studies in Africa program in 2005. This summer, she’s doing an internship at the International Criminal Tribunal on Rwanda in Arusha, Tanzania. She was accompanied by four others who are also working in Arusha, either at the Tribunal or with NGOs. We all piled into the back of a truck and drove out to Kudu Hills in Elangata Wuas.

EWuas is quite a traditional Maasai area. Of course, there have been the inevitable cultural changes over the decades. Most of the people living there are either semi-nomadic or completely sedentary, instead of being seasonally nomadic, and many children now attend school instead of spending their days fetching water or tending to the livestock. However, most of the homes here are traditional manyatta huts, and many older people still dress in shukas and lesos (colourful cloths wrapped around the body), adorn themselves with heaps of gorgeous beaded jewelry, remove the two middle teeth from the lower jaw and stretch their ears. It is very common to see people mixing “traditional” and “Western” styles of dress, a juxtaposition which I love. You might see an old man who has matched his red shuka with a red Fubu baseball cap, for example, or a mama who has created a beaded pouch to hang her cell phone around her neck.

Actually, almost everyone here has a cell phone now, though there are only a few spots in town where you can get reception. I don’t know what percentage of adult Kenyans now own cell phones, but I have hardly met anyone without one, even in the most remote areas. There are always one or two spots where one can get reception to check messages or make the occasional phone call. When I was volunteering in Trans-Mara district a few years ago, the only way to get reception was to climb to the top of one of the highest hills in the area, dubbed “Telephone Hill”. It was common for residents to walk up Telephone Hill once a week or so to check messages and call friends and relatives in the city. I know that in some areas, nomadic pastoralists who may not have access to any news source to use SMS (texting) to keep track of weather patterns and livestock market prices, which helps them to make informed decisions about when to travel and when to sell, without having to guess about conditions and prices. It would be interesting to do a study about the impact of cell phone technology on various Indigenous cultures of Kenya.

The place we were staying in Elangata Wuas is called Kudu Hills. It’s a gorgeous camp with several dorm-style houses, and a couple of more private houses. There is a curio shop, a dining hall, toilets, and even solar-powered hot showers, which is astonishing considering the remoteness of the area. I believe that the centre was originally built for eco-tourism purposes, but they seem to get more researchers than tourists these days. I stayed there in 2006 when doing research on female genital cutting/mutilation for my honours thesis, and I can see why it’s a popular place for researchers – it’s perfect since it’s all set up, is right in the community, and the staff make excellent interpreters and research assistants. All you need to bring is some food and drinking water, and you’re all set! McGill usually sends a couple of interns here during the summer. They help out at the school and the camp and with AfricaSOMA, an education-focused NGO started by Caroline, a McGill post-doc, and her husband who teaches at another university in Montreal. This year, McGill opted not to send any interns to any part of Kenya because of the violence early on, which was unfortunate for me because we were supposed to get two interns at Indigenous Information Network, who I had interviewed before leaving. But there were interns from a Dutch university at Kudu Hills this year, so at least the centre didn’t miss out. On our first night visiting, we stayed at the centre and got caught up with the staff and with each other. As Mirey said, the funny thing was that it felt completely normal for Allison, Mirey and me to see each other in that setting.

On the Saturday, we all trekked out to the weekly market. It’s a decent walk (I think it took an hour or two), and a lovely one, through the dust and thorn and acacia trees, past the school and the clinic. When we reached it, the market was a mass of red (a very popular colour for the Maasai). I was very surprised to see a dozen trucks parked around; last time, there were maybe two or three, so it seems that the market is becoming popular. We were the only foreigners there and received many stares, some friendly, some confused, some wary. I didn’t take many photos, as it would have been inappropriate. I’m lucky that taking photos is part of my job at IIN and I usually receive a positive or neutral reaction for doing so, but some Indigenous populations are concerned about having their images sold or exploited by outsiders. It’s not surprising, considering how many calendars, postcards and tourist and promotional materials feature the Maasai or other “exotic-looking” Indigenous people in traditional dress. Not to mention all those pricey coffee table books. It’s anyone’s guess as to how much most of these people are compensated for the use of their images, if at all. Anyway, imagine how it would feel if you were doing your shopping one day, and some stranger suddenly pulled out their camera and starting snapping away without asking, as if it was their right. Though the people at the market were beautiful and I would have loved to have taken photos, everyone deserves privacy and respect. Some may even allow you to take a picture or two if you ask nicely.

The market is where most people in the area get their everyday goods – produce, lesos, soap, tea, sugar, shoes, etc. I bought a leso and a couple of bracelets, then we wandered down to the dry riverbed. There was one borehole (an open well) there, and another one in the process of being dug. These would act as the water source for most of the community. In arid and semi-arid regions, it’s invariably the women and girls who are responsible for fetching water, as well as firewood. Depending on the region and whether or not a borehole has been created, they may walk for hours, sometimes taking the entire day just to find these necessities. The jerry cans which are used to carry water can be quite heavy, up to 20 kilos (about 44 lbs.). These are balanced on the head or waist, or strapped onto the head or back, frequently resulting in neck, back and hip pain and injuries. Those who are well-off enough use donkeys instead of carrying the water themselves. Elangata Wuas is quite dry for most of the year and the wells are privately owned – one must pay a small fee to access them. As in the rest of Kenya, water is a precious resource here.