Thursday, March 22 (Day 6)

Today we were scheduled to drive further West from the Ngorongoro crater to the Serengeti, so Mrosso asked us to meet him at the vehicle in front of the lodge entrance at about 8:00. We repacked our bags for departure and, after another fabulous breakfast, bid goodbye to our rooms and the luxuries of the lodge. We were anticipating with some trepidation the next three nights, as the itinerary showed us staying in a mobile tent camp in the Serengeti. The description read "very rustic!" We figured we were finally going to find out what "roughing it" was like.

The morning was, once again, bright and clear. Looking West and North, away from the rising sun, the land quickly fell away from the ridge of the crater and the nearby mountains down to flat plains, fading away in the far distance. Mrosso told us that was the beginning of the Serengeti, an area of rolling grasslands that stretched North and West for hundreds of kilometers. More on that later.

As we were leaving the lodge area, Mrosso asked us if we wanted to visit a Masai village. Les and Linda had done so on a previous trip to Africa, and both said the experience was worthwhile. Carol and I agreed that, yes, we would like to do that. Not far ahead and not far off the road, on the left, was a village with evidence that many vehicles had pulled off the road and gone there. It was clearly a genuine village where the people lived like they probably had for centuries, but it was also clearly catering to tourists!

Les told me that on one of their earlier trips to that area he had bought a Masai spear as a souvenir, and it made a really good, interesting item to display back home. He went on that a friend who had traveled with them had actually bought TWO of them, and had them hanging on a wall at home in a crossed design that was really striking. I thought about it and decided that if I could get an authentic spear (as opposed to one made for tourists) that I would be interested in buying one also. Les confided that he had paid $25 for his, but that was eleven years ago. The village visit was to be my opportunity to make this purchase.

When we pulled up outside the village, Mrosso told us he would have to bargain with the village chief to get agreement on the per-person price to tour the village. The chief, clad in tire-tread sandals and a red plaid garment draped around him, came out of the village entrance and walked over to the Land Cruiser. While he and Mrosso talked, we stared at the outside of the village.

This is the outside perimeter fence of the Masai village.

The perimeter was a circular fence of sticks, stuck in the ground, about 8 feet high. They were close enough together to create a stockade-like appearance, and definitely would have deterred a lion or other predator interested in the cattle or goats that spent the nights inside. After some discussion, Mrosso asked us if $10 (U.S. currency!) was OK to see the village. We asked if that included allowing us to take pictures of the people, and were assured that yes, the price was all-inclusive. We agreed and Les and I each peeled out $20, which Mrosso gave to the chief. The money disappeared (I still don't know where he carried things. We sure didn't see any pockets!) and we were led inside.

The chief was very friendly, and introduced himself as "Filemon" (I have no idea of the spelling, but it was pronounced like "feel - ay - moan," with the accent on "feel." I immediately thought of the biblical name "Philemon." I suspect that is the spelling, but if not it's probably the origin!) Filemon was originally from a different village on the side of a nearby mountain. In the picture below, he is looking through Les' binoculars at his home village.

Mrosso, Les, Filemon and John.

Inside the circle of the fence, and almost up against it, was a circle of huts. Inside that circle was another circular fenced enclosure that held the cows at night. During the day the cows were all outside the village grazing (probably these were some of the cows we had seen going past our lodge into the crater each morning!) but there were goats around (and on top of) the huts.

Filemon told us that the women make all of the houses, and in fact (he said matter-of-factly) the men don't know how to do it. Their construction is of upright sticks in a circle, interlaced with horizontal sticks and vines, and plastered inside and out with cow manure! The roof is a combination of sticks, cow manure and thatch. Yes, they live in houses made of cow dung! Yes, it smells like it. Yes, there are flies (but not so many in the house – I think the smoke keeps them out. More on that later.) When it's time to build a hut, a group of women will usually trek together to the nearest area of trees where the appropriate number and size of sticks are available. It's a cooperative effort because many more sticks are needed for each house than one woman could carry.

Filemon, with billowing cape, gathers the village people. Notice the beaded neckwear on the women and girls.