During our safari, our driver asked Sury and I if we’d be interested in visiting a Masaii village at some point. We both said “for sure” since we thought it would be interesting. The next day our driver pulls off the main road and told us we were at a good Masaii village to visit. A young Masaii man came to the vehicle, and our driver told us he’s be our guide and we’d arrange payment directly with him. This was the first mention of payment, but we both got out and went along with it. That was a rookie move on our part, not confirming the amount and settling payment before starting.
The men and women of the village gathered in front of us in their traditional bright red, purple and blue outfits and performed a welcome song and dance for us. We then followed them into the village compound. It was small, shaped in a circle with huts lining the perimeter, and a fenced enclosure in the middle to keep the cattle safe at night. We were invited to join in the dancing, so I got in line with the women and Sury got in line with the men. The women were singing a song and bobbing their shoulders up and down, while the men danced in a line and took turns jumping. All I could do was bob my shoulders up and down, and when I looked over I could see Sury jumping away with the men.
After that our guide asked for the money. I asked how much, and he simply said “50.” I had to double check and see if he actually meant USD (which he did) because $50 for the both of us was a lot more than I expected to pay! Since we hadn’t asked earlier there wasn’t much we could do other than just pay the $50. When we checked with our driver afterwards, he said that was the standard fee per vehicle, so at least we weren’t totally ripped off.
After paying, they brought us into one of their homes, where we sat and asked questions. The huts are made out of branches that are coated with mud, and are very small and dark, with only a tiny window. The one we were in was also very smoky, because there was a fire burning for meal preparation. The women build the homes, take care of the children and basically do the majority of the work. It’s the men’s job to guard the cattle.
From there we visited the school, which was filled with a class of 3 to 6 year olds. They recited their abc’s, and counted to 100 for us, but the whole thing felt very forced and rehearsed. It was like, here come the tourists, so now kids count and do your alphabet. That was essentially the end of the tour, because they then brought us to the middle of the huts, where jewellery and some other crafts were hanging and waited for us to buy stuff.
It was a really strange visit, and I’d consider it to be our “fake” authentic visit. Everything felt staged and practiced, “here comes more tourists, better put on our show.” Even though we were told that we could take as many pictures as we wanted, I think we both felt a bit uncomfortable taking pictures as they sat around their homes. It felt strange to take pictures of people as they go about their daily business.
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