After we finished our stay in the Serenghetti, we stopped to
analyze how conservation practices affected the local people in the
area. Our grand adventures on safari were relatively absent of people,
despite the traditional use of this land by the Maasai for grazing their
cattle. We encountered thousands, maybe even millions, of wilderbeest,
but the only humans in the Serenghetti were the park service, the safari
companies, and tourists. We learned from our three drivers, Samuel,
Elize, and Julius, some traditional aspects of Maasai culture as well as
perspectives of Massai men who were benefitting from the tourism
industry. The Maasai people have been forced off their lands in order to
create these grand national parks we have been touring, much like the
Native Americans in the United States. However, the relative poverty of
the Maasai villages in comparison to the heaping profits of the tourism
industry (it cost $2000 per person to go on safari) makes the situation
here especially unfair. The government has taken away land that has
traditionally been used by the Maasai and neglected their promises on
shared profits of conservation. The system of property rights that works
so well in most areas of the United States has failed these people who
need access to collective resources for their livelihoods.
On our way to Ngorongoro crater, we made a stop at a traditional
Maasai boma just off the road. We agreed to pay the village $170 for a
tour, which this particular community provides often for tourists. We
were welcomed into the village with song and dance; many people looked
happy to have us there. We also visited the kindergarten school where
children sang for us and practiced counting in English. Our final stop
was the home of one of the members of the community. Most of us felt
intrusive in this part of our tour, but we learned about the way
families live from a man of each home. Inside, there were two beds, one
for women and children and one for men, as well as a place to cook with a
small fire. Holes in the wall barely allowed room for smoke to seep
out, and the roof was rainproof, but so low we could only stand hunched
over. My host explained that the village moves every year, and it is the
woman's job to build the house. However no women from the village could
speak English or Swahili, and therefore had limited opportunities
beyond the village they live in. In contrast, most of the men spoke some
English or Swahili, and some had college degrees. I met one man as we
were leaving the boma who studied wildlife management at college and had
visited several cities and universities in the United States for part
of his education. Julius, one of our drivers, as a Maasai had benefitted
much from tourism because of his work with Klub Afriko and other safari
companies. When I asked him what he thought about tourism and how that
affected the Maasai, especially in terms of the village we visited, he
was effusively positive. He has really enjoyed working with tourists,
but most of the Maasai do not reap the same benefits. In fact, women
suffered such hardships at the hands of conservation expension (because
it was extremely difficult for them to benefit from tourism in similar
ways to the men) that thousands of Maasai women marched from the
Serenghetti to the capitol at Dar es Salam in protest a few years ago
(That's a really long walk!). The Maasai villagers also told us that
they spend roughly $400 on water every two weeks. Tours like ours help
to reach that quota and go towards education, like for the man I met.
However, through tours they not only earn the necessary profit, but they
also allow for objectification. The tourists that enter are not looking
for lasting or meaningful connections, nor are they looking to give
anything besides money in return for their visit. They simply want to
see an alternate mode of living and an exotic culture. We attempted to
enter with respect for this new culture and way of living, but we
certainly engaged in objectification as well.
My experience felt both objectifying and objectified. The
structure of the tour, and perhaps also our requests of learning as
students, created an atmosphere that made it difficult to move beyond
what had been set up for us and make meaningful connections and exchange
knowledge and understanding. Instead of meeting individuals and
learning about their lives, we took a tour seeking to objctify the
average Maasai. In a way, I think they objectified us as well, but
perhaps as a response more so than an immediate notion. After we
finished our small talk in the home of a Maasai family, the man ushered
us to his jewelry stand where he, and several other women, loaded our
arms with bracelets. It was difficult to decline their insistant offers
to purchase something. It was shocking for a lot of us to be objectified
as a tourist and as someone with money. But now that the experience is
in perspective, I realize that their behavior was only a result of our
behavior and our requests. At the same time, this is one of the few ways
that a Maasai village is able to benefit from the tourism industry, and
at profits over one hundred times lower than the price of our safaris.
Is this objectification then a necessary evil? Perhaps a solution could
be similar to the historic sites we have in the United States, which
serve as a sort of demonstration model, versus actually intruding into
people's homes. The lives of the Maasai people are very complex, and
many of the solutions we might think of as outsiders will not serve all
of the issues at hand. It will be interesting to learn how these people
move forward and if more political land use rights will be granted to
them.
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