After the song, Filemon asked if we wanted to see the inside of a house. Les and Linda declined as they had seen one before, but Carol and I agreed readily. We were led to one of the huts, all of which looked alike to our untrained eyes, and Filemon disappeared inside. I use the word "disappeared" deliberately, because although the Masai people are typically quite tall, the doorway was very short and narrow. I had to almost squat down and edge in sideways, trying not to rub against the walls. Remember, we're talking cow dung! (Actually, in fairness, once the dung dried it didn't have much odor and really didn't rub off on you or smear on you. It was just the thought of it!) Once inside, it was totally black! Filemon had completely disappeared, but spoke up right beside me telling me to sit, carefully, and let my eyes adapt. We had come from very bright, direct sunlight into not-quite-total darkness.

There was an opening about six inches square, high in one wall. This was to let light in and smoke out. The house was circular, about 10-12 feet in diameter. Against the walls, on either side of the entrance, were two "beds" (we were sitting on one of them). They were low platforms (of dirt, I guess – we couldn't see anything!) about 3 feet wide and maybe 6 feet long. Filemon told us that the man slept in one bed, and his wife slept in the other with any very small children they may have, up to about two years of age (I assume until weaning, but I don't know that). After age two or so, the young children all sleep together in a "dormitory hut" (my term) to give their parents privacy.

Filemon then told us that many Masai men take more than one wife. He himself had four wives. He would stay with one for a day or two, then with another and so on. But every day, without fail, he would speak to each of his wives and all of his children (he didn't say how many) and make sure that everyone was OK, no illness, no need for medicines or other items. It seemed to be a husband and father's responsibility.

In the very center of the hut, in an 18-inch circular depression in the floor, a fire was burning. Filemon referred to it as "the kitchen." On the fire was a metal pan with water boiling in it, while above near the roof was hanging what looked like a skinned goat's leg, in the smoke. Yes, it was smoky inside. We assume the wood they were burning was acacia, but it smelled exactly like mesquite smoke. Clearly those trees are closely related! The rest of the hut was used for storing firewood and cooking utensils. Very cozy, actually, if you like the combined smells of mesquite smoke and cow dung!

One point the chief was anxious to make to us was that the Masai people live in harmony with their environment. They do not hunt or kill any wild animals, having plenty of goats for meat and cows for milk and blood, and corn and vegetables to round out their diet. He did admit, however, that if lions attack or kill their cows, the Masai people "punish" the lions. It was assumed that they killed them. With the only weapons they had – their spears!

Lest you get the mistaken impression that these very primitive people have no knowledge of events outside their own village area, Filemon commented to us about our recent presidential election requiring 21 days to be decided! He noted that this was very unusual, even historic. How did he know about it? We have no idea!

We went back out into the now-blinding sunlight, and were offered a look at the racks of items they had for sale to tourists. There were carvings, masks, beadwork of all kinds, and many other trinkets. The village people who had hand-made these items were all anxious to show off their personal wares, but they weren't pushy. We realized later that although the villages are fairly self-sufficient, making and growing almost everything they need, they still require some currency to buy fabric and metal objects, medicines and other goods. We looked at the crafts. Some were interesting, like the "fly-swisher" made from wood and the long hairs from a cow's tail – about the length of a fly swatter. (Later, in the Serengeti, when we were attacked by tsetse flies, we wished we had bought some of those swishers!) But we declined all offers and mentioned that I wanted to buy a spear. Chief Filemon was summoned.

The chief had five of the warriors from the village each bring his spear over to me, and lined the five spears up with the butt end stuck in the ground. Then everyone stepped back and looked at me! I had no idea what was expected, but I made a show of examining the spears. They were all similar in appearance, ranging from 5 to 5 1/2 feet tall with a 28 inch long, broad double-edged blade with a flat point on one end and a 24 inch steel shank ending in a dull point on the other end. The middle was a wood stick about 14 inches long, round in cross section, tapered on both ends to fit into the steel sockets attached to the blade and butt, and polished to a deep brown from dirt and constant handling, for this formed the grip.

I then stepped back beside Mrosso and whispered, "What am I supposed to do?" He asked if I liked any of the 5 spears, so I selected one (the tallest) and indicated that I was interested in it. Filemon, clearly the person in charge of all the village's financial affairs, informed me that it was $25. My first thought was, great! That's what Les paid 11 years ago! But I asked Mrosso what he thought. He said it wasn't a bad price, but to offer something less. I asked him how much less? I didn't want to offend the chief or the man who had made the spear. Mrosso shrugged and said to make an offer I was comfortable with. A dilemma.

I whispered to Mrosso, "How about $20, is that too low?" He made a gesture that I interpreted as meaning, "Let me handle it." He told the chief that I liked the spear, but that I didn't want to spend any more than $20 at most, tops! Filemon barely hesitated before saying, "19." I was ready to buy, but I looked at Mrosso and seemed to read some hesitation in his look, so I stooped down and looked at the spear closely again before standing and whispering, "What do you think?"

He shrugged again and whispered, "That's a pretty good price, but do what you want."

I looked at the chief and said, "How about $15?" For just a second I thought I had gone too far and offended him! He started to turn away. Then he stopped, turned back and said brusquely, "$17!"

Thrilled, I said, "That's good!" Immediately the man whose spear it had been smiled broadly and began knocking on one end of the spear with a stick to dislodge the metal ends from the wooden grip. I started to count out the $17 to the man, but Filemon stepped forward and indicated that the money went to him! Okay by me!

 
Proud buyer, his "rafiki" (friend), and spear. At right, bracelets, other beaded articles, belts, knives gourds, etc.

A bit later I was able to approach the man whose spear I had bought and ask him if he would like a cap. I had brought from home 19 ball caps that had been in my closet from golf tournaments and other functions, thinking they might be popular in Africa. He seemed VERY pleased, so I told him to come out to the vehicle with me and I'd let him select one. He first took me over to the trinket shelves, picked out a small bead and grass bracelet, and gave it to me. His English was almost as bad as my Swahili, but he got me to understand that if I gave him a hat he wanted to give me something in return. It seemed important. I thanked him for the bracelet, and he smiled, pointing to himself and then to me and said, "Friend." I had to think hard for a second, but I came up with the Swahili word for friend ("rafiki") and said it to him. THEN you should have seen him smile!

We went to the Land Cruiser and he selected a cap that matched the blue "wrap" he was wearing. I noticed the chief watching, so I motioned him over and presented him with a red cap (he was wearing red!). He seemed pleased.

In the village we were also shown a building constructed of sticks that served as a pre-school house for the small children. They also had a blackboard and chalk, and were learning the alphabet and simple arithmetic.

 
Masai pre-school building outside village. At right, the youngsters in their open-air school learning vowels and numbers.

After a total of about 45 minutes in the village we said our goodbyes and piled back into the Land Cruiser. The highway wound through hills and valleys, but was generally descending towards the Serengeti plains in the distance.

We spotted giraffes not far from the road, some gorgeous scenery including a flowering acacia tree, and later came across some young Masai men dressed in black with their faces painted white. They were in the middle of the month-long rite of manhood, which is apparently quite involved and includes circumcision.