Matebete

Two years ago, when Marie was spending three months in Iringa, Tanzania volunteering at an orphanage, she made a trip with a Minnesotan named Keith Olson to do some exploratory drilling for a possible cattle well in Matebete, a remote Maasai village. She had a fascinating visit, and emailed back to New Hampshire many extraordinary pictures from the trip, including one of her sitting on top of the auger (probably eight feet in the air) while several tall Maasai men were turning it. Much to my delight, I had an opportunity to visit that same village.
We were met there by a welcoming party of half a dozen men and one woman, who greeted us warmly, and told us we were welcome to “rest” in the guest house until the “activities” began at 4:00 p.m. Some time was spent negotiating the actual services we were going to receive, and the price; all this was settled amicably.
During the introductions, I asked them if any remembered my daughter’s visit two years before, and they all exclaimed about Marie, her height, and her visit with Keith. Thereupon, any rest was abandoned, and we (all11 of us) piled into the van to go visit the well site. I had understood that it was close by, but that turned out to be a 45 minute ride through the bush (no roads, just cattle fields covered with trees, brush, brooks, and other obstacles). We all took delight in visiting the spot where Marie’s famous photograph had been taken.
It was just about 4:00 p.m. when we returned, and we were immediately led into a treed area, where we found three Maasai men with a goat. The activities were about to start. We had received some advance knowledge regarding the goat, but you cannot fully appreciate this without experiencing this first-hand. Let’s just say that we watched a traditional Maasai preparation of a goat for roasting.
All of the Maasai elders and leaders had cell phones, which were in use frequently. Some had the phone discreetly tucked inside the robes that they wear, others had them on lanyards around their necks, and still others had them on the opposite side of their waist belt from a sheathed knife. Having noticed that the electric lines ceased when we turned off the main road to head several miles through the countryside to the village, I asked them how they kept the phones charged. They answered -- solar power. I then noticed a solar panel near a building next to the guest house, with the wires running into a utility room. There were many things such as this that were interesting to ponder.
Back at the main village, a large group of women were singing to greet us, and all of the young men, with their sticks, were chanting and simply taking turns jumping vertically into the air, extremely high. After many greetings and welcomes (and I do mean many, many greetings and welcomes), all sincere and all very warm, including by the village commissioner who was in regular clothing (he turned up later that evening in his Maasai clothing, traveling by motor bike with helmet), we finally took our leave and returned to the area where now the edible portions of the goat were being roasted by a big fire. This was being done by “indirect” grilling, as the large pieces of meat were on sticks placed into the ground next to the fire, with the meat being turned periodically to cook on all sides. At this point, it became apparent that only the Maasai men (about 25 of them) were now with us, all of the women having disappeared to other places for the evening.
As the meat was cooking, we sat under the tree and, through our driver Peter as interpreter, had wonderful conversations with many of the men about their tribe, their village, and our “tribes” and “villages.” Ultimately, we broke into three groups to sit in circles under the trees and eat the roasted goat. A younger man would hold the stick, and an elder would use his large knife to simply cut off bite-sized (actually pretty big bites) pieces of meat, and just distribute them by hand into our hands, going around the circle to each. We began with the liver, and then moved on to the ribs. Perhaps because I had such low expectations, the meat actually tasted very good, and seemed to be cooked very thoroughly.
There was no silverware, no plates, no napkins, no nothing – we were given small branches with leaves to wipe our hands after we finished eating the goat meat. After talking a while longer under the trees, as it was getting dark and to avoid mosquitoes, about a dozen of us moved our chairs to the open courtyard outside the guest house, and then sat in a circle under the half moon and stars of a clear African night (again, which you can only appreciate by being here).
What ensued for the next hour or so was a remarkable discussion about the world economy, American politics, and all manner of current events. For individuals living such isolated, and by our standards, primitive lives, they were quite knowledgeable and extremely interested in discussing all of these issues, and it was an absolutely delightful evening on a beautiful night.
A few of the men had pealed away from the group, and it turned out, were inside preparing our dinner – rice, gravy, and more goat meat. An unexpected surprise, and so the party simply moved indoors and spent another hour or so eating and talking further. At about 10:00 p.m., all of the Maasai folks had left, and we were left in the guest house to ponder the events of the day and get some sleep. It was very dark.
Morning broke early, and very rapidly there were fires going in the courtyard outside of our guesthouse, and we were served a wonderful breakfast of tea and chapatis, a corn pastry somewhat like a soft tortilla shell that you roll and eat. The breakfast included many welcomes and thanks.
Next followed the presentation to each of us of pieces of Maasai jewelry, including a very nice bracelet for me. By this time, we had developed some pretty warm friendships with this small group of people, and it was a joyous time, and we almost hated to leave at that point. Long goodbyes preceded most of us piling into the van again, to head to the “office” back in the main village to settle up on the bill. They were quite formal about the financial aspects of the transaction, and we did have to go to the office to actually receive and pay the bill. The village chairman, Nateo Kesota, the general secretary, his brother Elia, and the treasurer (whose name I cannot remember) all presided over the payment of the bill and it was all very formal.

We learned that the village has a “perpetual” lease to 32,000 hectares (what’s a hectare?), on which they have 4,000 head of cattle. They are wealthy in those terms, but lead quite simple lives. They were an extraordinarily warm, funny, and wonderful people to visit.