After our breakfast of chapattis and coffee, Baraka and I went out to the road to wait for a dala dala to take us to Kimokouwa. I swore I would steer clear of this means of transport this trip after nearly being killed during last year’s visit. I have done pretty well but it is nearly impossible to get from A to B without using some form of public transportation unless you have your own car. I figured a short distance couldn’t be too eventful.
There were only a few people in the run-down white van called “Sweet Babes” when we were picked up. But in Tanzania, you never pass a potential fare on the road. Soon the vehicle began filling up as we stopped to pick up Maasai carrying wood and other things it is probably best I don’t know about. I think I counted 14 people in the re-fitted van made for 12. Not bad today, I thought, with only a few kilometers to go. Then more people in red started coming out of the bush and were hustled inside. Another stop, then another stop. We must have been 20 or 22 people riding in the sardine can before Baraka and I got out at the Kimokouwa stop. Unbelievable, really. It’s like an assault on your physical space and it happens all the time here.
We made our way on foot towards the village about a kilometer away for our pre-arranged 10:00 a.m. meeting with the bead makers. While we were waiting for them to show up we explained the photography project to the Kimokouwa photographers who were eager to participate. Then we stopped in to Kimokouwa Primary School so I could see the principal, Mr. Meikas. He is a good man who has really turned things around in the school since taking over four years ago. The number of students passing qualifying exams for secondary school has increased significantly. My visit included doing some troubleshooting since the principal felt some of his graduating students had been overlooked in the TEMBO sponsorship program this year. After listening to his side of the story, I said TEMBO would pay sponsorship money for four more students. We left the school and climbed the hillside to visit Baraka’s family boma and when we returned the bead makers were gathered, about two hours later than expected.
The chairman of the village council, whom we have met on numerous occasions, also arrived. I explained that Project TEMBO had raised money to help the bead makers. I showed the bead making materials I had brought from donors in Canada and explained that we would help them build a banda if they made jewelry I could buy back from them for a fair price to sell in Canada. As with the Longido women, the bead makers wanted to have ‘community’ beads to work with so I agreed we would set a time to purchase some in Arusha.
We next talked about how we could help a group of women wanting to sell produce. The chairman thought that the village should concentrate on bead making rather than branching out with another group. With signs of the drought everywhere, I then suggested that the $500.00 U.S I had brought for the produce group could be used to buy food for the villagers. A spontaneous round of applause erupted, accompanied by big smiles. A discussion in Kimaasai ensued while I sat observing faces. The chairman announced the women wanted beans since the children needed to have protein.
Last on the agenda was funding from Canadian donors to begin another goat group. Could we support the existing one instead, asked the chairman. I agreed with his wisdom. As with the Longido chickens, the goats have not flourished either. Food would help. Alright, we could use the money to buy the 11 women food for their goats as well as add one or two goats to their herds, I replied. Everyone was happy.
We got around to doing some bead work for the next couple of hours using our Canadian supplies and some of their ‘personal’ beads. I wanted to see what the women could do. They were not as creative or proficient as the Longido women. Kimokouwa is more isolated and a totally Maasai community. Longido is a mixture of Maasai and ‘Swahili’ (their term.) The women have never had a banda to sell their work so they have not invested in making designs for others. I realized they would need to create simpler pieces. Baraka later suggested that we ask some of the Longido women to help the Kimokouwa women so they would feel more confident about their work. Great idea.
I concluded Maasai women must be among the original multi-taskers. Every second one had a baby with her while she beaded. Babies were passed from one woman’s breast to another’s. Kokoyai, pictured above with her husband, Philipo, is one of the bead makers who arrived with her son Lebahiti. Marian and I first visited Kokoyai in 1998, when she was 10 years old, and because of that visit Project TEMBO was born. Baraka said Kokoyai was smiling as he took the photo because Philipo, who is holding my hand, commented that he now had two wives. That is not why I am smiling.
The chairman, who told me he can also be referred to as “honorable councilor”, accompanied us to the road. We crossed over so he could show us the area he felt would be ideal for the banda. It was near a road that is used for the Cultural Tourism program. I agreed it would be a good location. It had scrubby brush on it and the chairman asked when the women could begin clearing it. I respectfully asked if this was something the men could do while the women made the jewelry. Absolutely not! But they would be around just in case any advice was needed. Apparantly another crazy mzungu idea on my part.
We waited for two hours in the sweltering sun before a dala dala came our way. Please, God, not another crush of bodies on the way back to Longido. My prayer was answered. We were picked up by an empty safari vehicle on its way back to Arusha. It had electric doors and nice seats and no rust anywhere. This was a sweet babe. As we drove down the highway the driver occasionally opened his window and threw bottled water to Maasai boys walking on the roadside. Baraka had told me that some safari companies were using the extra water their clients leave behind to help the Maasai herders during the drought.
Since we hadn’t had anything to eat since breakfast, we opted for an early supper of rice and beans at Café La Mama’s. Then I headed directly up the hill to the guesthouse, debating whether I was ‘toasted’ or ‘fried’. I couldn’t remember ever being this tired before.
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