a homestay

(continued from previous entry)
That evening, most of us went to do a homestay with the mother of Konzo, one of the camp staff. We went with Isaa, another staff member, who was to act as our interpreter. Since it was very uncommon for older Maasai to have attended school, particularly the women, a younger guide is necessary when doing visits. Isaa is my age and is a great guide, telling stories and pointing out interesting sights along the way. Konzo’s mother, a beautiful woman named Anna, was very welcoming and friendly, despite the fact that we had no shared language. She had built the manyattas on her husband’s property herself, as is customary. Though they are the ones to construct the homes, it is extremely rare for a Maasai woman, or for any woman living in a rural area to actually own property herself. Property in most Indigenous and rural communities is passed through the male line, though ideas about women and property ownership are slowly, slowly changing. There was a large goat pen on Anna’s husband’s land, and a number of dogs and a cat hanging around as well. There were also four curious children, ranging in age from about 3 to 15. It is customary for the head of the family (that being the man, of course) to leave the homestead of find somewhere else to sleep when there are overnight guests, so the father was not around.

Though from the outside, manyattas look impossibly tiny, inside they are actually quite spacious and charming. The layout is always basically the same – there are two beds on opposite sides of the house, and a bench-type seat adjacent to the entrance. In the middle of the room is the fire, where all the cooking is done, and dishes and cutlery are lined up on shelves along the other wall. Having the fire inside of the hut ensures that it is warm and relatively insect-free, and I imagine in times of conflict, it helps to have a hidden fire. The problem, for those of us who aren’t used to it anyway, is that the tiny windows positioned halfway up the manyatta walls don’t allow the smoke to escape, and it constantly stings the eyes, especially if you have to stand up. But I love visiting manyattas and having the chance to chat with the mamas. We talked for a few hours with Anna, Isaa and Richard, Anna’s neighbour who came to visit. After a meal of ugali, cabbage and chai, it was soon time for bed.

As there were quite a few of us visiting, Richard had offered to let some of us sleep in his mnanyatta. It was lucky that he did, because I don’t know how on earth we would have fit six of us in one bed. I headed over to his place with the two guys, leaving the rest of the women at Anna’s. I had stayed with Richard’s mother the first time we came to Elangata Wuas, and he was working as a staff member at the camp when I last visited. Since then, he’s been a busy guy; he now has two children, a large plot of land with an aloe garden, and a huge house along with the usual manyatta. He also has an outhouse, which is an improvement over his mom’s place where we were to go out somewhere in the property. I vividly recall having to go out in the middle of the night and being terrified that I would be attacked by a leopard while relieving myself (one had killed a goat in a nearby compound the previous night). That didn’t happen, thankfully, but I was spied on and giggled at by the young boys who were minding the livestock overnight. It was a good thing that I was skilled at going outside while covering myself with my leso.

This time I didn’t expect any kind of animal to disturb me in the outhouse, so I nearly had a heart attack when I shined my flashlight in there and saw a dark shape lurking in the corner. It turned out to be a rooster – an angry rooster who was not at all happy to be disturbed, and who was clucking and shifting around the entire time I was in there. I guess it had been put there so that it wouldn’t be snatched by a predator in the night. I tell you, I’ve been in some uncomfortable bathroom situations in my time in Kenya, but squatting and trying to aim for the small hole in the ground, while simultaneously attempting to soothe and back away from an irate rooster was pretty hilarious. I tried to think of how I might defend myself without injuring my host’s animal in case it decided to attack the intruder, but there was no pecking or biting involved. I’m sure we were both relieved when I made it out without incident.

The sleeping situation was equally uncomfortable and (to me) comical. Traditional Maasai beds are basically just structures made out of branches and covered by a cow hide – not exactly designed for comfort. They’re also usually shared, by necessity. There were three of us sharing the bed that night, me being by far the shortest of all, and even my feet were hanging off the edge of the bed. I can’t imagine how uncomfortable the guys must have been. I suspect that because I was the only woman there, they gave me wide a wide berth, and were probably crammed together like chickens in a Nairobi market all night long. It was also quite hot because of the dying coals and the body heat, so it was a bit of a restless night. It’s such a great opportunity that you just can’t pass it up, though. It’s just always so interesting to be able to see how other people live. The funny part was that in the morning, Isaa was the one who was complaining the most. I guess he got used to sleeping on a mattress at the camp!

The next day, we headed back to the chaos of Nairobi. It always seems twice as hectic, dirty and vibrant when compared to the slowness and remoteness of the rural areas. I’m hoping to head back to Elangata Wuas in a couple of weekends, but we’ll see how the time goes.