I traveled to Africa for the first time in 2004 forced to ration their backs myths. Among them was not the least the fascination with the Masai, the warlike tribe that had kept at bay the white man in the eastern savannas of the continent until the late nineteenth century. Their ferocity was legendary and not even the relentless Stanley dared to cross their domains when Royal Geographical Society he proposed to lead an expedition from Mombasa the Lake Victoria field to inspect the possibilities of implementing the British dream of building a railway through the heart of East Africa to the Great Lakes region. Stanley, true to, claimed a veritable army to get going. Was too expensive. Dead Livingstone, the Royal Geographical Society noticed Joseph Thomson.
The Scot was the antithesis of Stanley. He never saw himself as an explorer, but as a simple wanderer. Since pegar one shot, became the first white man to cross the Masailand, a feat that posterity, always ungrateful to the humble, called with the utmost neglect. In December 1883 finally reached the shores of Lake Victoria. No shot in the air with vehemence and bathed naked in the water, wore only a kilt and danced in memory of their ancestors.
They put all possible obstacles, because there was no more interested in walking for two or three hours the Masai savanna
In case you did not return to Africa (I did not know that it is impossible not to return), wanted to go to Masai Mara, and Kenya, at all costs and, as far as possible, asomarme briefly to a Masai poblado. I did not think best way to do that with a walking safari. They put all possible obstacles, because there was no more interested in walking for two or three hours the Masai savanna. An armed ranger must accompany, We were warned, to prevent possible encounters with wildlife. A Nativity scene not the ride was not funny, and less when, early in the morning, made us sign a document that eximíamos every living creature of all responsibility for an accident (I guess that ranged from an unwelcome twist to devour us a pack of hungry lions).
The first myth, of a permanently scorched continent from north to south and from east to west, soon vanished. It was half past six and, savanna in any cracks that a bush was a start, care was freezing. The fleece there was not enough at all. We kept the ranger with a town then visit. In their place are two young Masai, Karo and Kurewal, with their spears and red dress. When we understand that the ranger will never come (a retinue of two tourists do not expect a hearty booty tips), Troncha guide a branch with the foot and, esgrimiéndola as a defensive weapon, shouts: "Come! Bethlehem's face is a poem. I think it's the closest I've never divorce.
I, truth, credentials had in mind much more epic than a handful of weeds to treat constipation
So, developed with two Masai fifty meters to monitor the ground, guide to scanning the horizon with binoculars and sleeping drunk ranger who knows where, walking between bushes and droppings of elephants and hippos, listening to explanations on the use variegated that the Masai are different medicinal plants. I, truth, credentials had in mind much more epic than a handful of weeds to treat constipation: young people forced to kill a lion to join the tribe, breakfast with milk and cow's blood that do want to Getafix, he Druid of Asterix. On the other side of a trough, a herd of wildebeest up the dust of the savannah, while trace fingerprints and shelled Masai confidences.
We come back to town after more than two hours of walking. One of the Masai stops us dry. Have you seen something in the bushes, about 300 meters. I look around for the best place to run. I'm not for heroics. Suddenly, I hear a laugh. Karo and Kurewal are breaking the shaft. What moves the bushes are white ass two squatting tourists looking for some privacy before visiting the town. There is a larger group next to the fence that protects the huts. When we get there, a dozen Masai warriors are jumping, couched lance, to the delight of visitors. Some dare to imitate them with pathetic results. Nothing is free. Each one has had to pay to the village chief twenty dollars for the entry (we also, the chief does not miss a). It embarrasses the show, perhaps because it anticipates the dissolution of the myth that has brought me here, and walk away a few yards seeking the company of a child under an acacia. His school, a barracks, is a few meters below.
The sandals of some tourists, equipped with beach attire, sink into the mud to fill your fucking fingers
We entered the town and a huge puddle of cow dung stands between us and the huts. The sandals of some tourists, equipped with beach attire, sink into the mud to fill your fucking fingers. Although they seem more concerned to check if your camcorder is recording, can not avoid a gesture of disgust, but there is no other way to get to homes, also built with clay kneaded with feces.
Most huts have two small rooms and a main kitchen where a fire. Just no light, because only tiny little windows open in the walls. You have to walk hunched over the carpeted floor of goatskins. Flies in the tens and the smell is quite repulsive.
That image of so warlike tribe adocenada caused me some uneasiness
Outside, two young men strive to make fire with sticks to rub on the blade of a knife in search of the spark that illuminates life. A little further, village women have set up a souvenir market. The Masai have sacrificed their privacy, and perhaps the pride of his race, the golden calf and the turimo, probably, there is nothing to reproach. It is much money left for safaris in the Masai Mara and is just a small part to benefit the Maasai villages. When after all it is their land. But outside equity criteria, adocenada me that picture of such warlike tribe caused me some uneasiness, even increased when, evening, a group of Masai women went to the hotel to give to clients with tribal dances.
But after all, I then clairvoyance giving a few Tusker, nothing has changed. Thomson was able to enter the Masai country without resorting to violence because it was laden with trinkets that was paid as tolls from local caciques. More than a century later, our trinkets are the tickets from Uncle Sam. Everything else is part of the show.
