The Maasai Boma

The last week of our safari through Tanzania was just that – a real, live Serengeti safari. We spent five days traversing through four parks in total: Arusha National Park, Lake Manyara National Park, Serengeti National Park, and the Ngorongoro Crater Conservation Area. We saw countless rather frisky baboons, giraffe, zebra, impala, wildebeest (we were lucky enough to witness the great migration of at least a million wildebeest into Kenya), elephant, gazelle, hyenas, and bushbuck. In the Serengeti we were even surrounded by a pride of hungry female lions so close you could have reached out and scratched one behind the ears – if you didn’t value your fingers. It’s rather incredible to stare into the eyes of an animal that you would stand no chance against should it decide to make you its next meal. All in all, the animal safari was an unforgettable experience. In the end we definitely got our money’s worth, and believe me we paid quite dearly. I imagine Klub Afriko (speaking of which, the drivers – all Maasai men – are phenomenal and have a wealth of traditional ecological knowledge between and the cooks are excellent; I would highly recommend them as a safari company) made off quite well after we came through. But one of the things that stuck with me the most was outside of the parks and effectively outside of the safari industry as a whole.

Between the Serengeti and Ngorongoro Crater we stopped along the way to visit a Maasai boma. When we arrived, the men and women poured out of the gates of the boma and began a traditional welcoming song, complete with Maasai jumping. Some of us even got to try jumping and singing along with them. But once we entered the little compound things started to get uncomfortable for me. We visited the “school” if you could even call it that, where a handful of adorable, dusty children sang a song and recited 0-50 in English. The sons of the village chief took us into their homes – tiny little cow-dung huts not even tall enough to stand in – and told us how the Maasai lived. Afterwards, some of the women sold us hand-made jewelry at exorbitant prices (for Tanzania).

It was eye-opening to see how the Maasai really live. My mental images are inundated with this glorious myth of a strong warrior, ready to take down a lion with the swing of his spear, and much of that proud, fascinating culture still exists today. But that image has been tarnished by a huge disparity in income. We paid so much money to go on our safari and even though it was the tourist low season we saw plenty of other people out in the savanna who probably paid just as much. But none of that money ever makes it the Maasai who used to inhabit and utilize the very land we puttered across the day before. If they could own a safari company, or even just get a cut of the booty their standard of living could go way up. According to one of the chief’s sons, it costs almost 900 US dollars each month for that particular boma to pay for the water they have to truck in from Arusha to make up for all of the water used by the safari lodges. A fortune for a village like that, but chump change to even the cheapest safari company. Instead, the Maasai are forced to turn their rich, beautiful culture into a sideshow to even marginally benefit from the tourism industry (we only paid $175 for 15 people).

While I immensely enjoyed the safari and visiting the boma, the situation of the Maasai made it hard to digest the whole experience. On the one hand, tourists like us provide a much-needed source of income to the boma and the experience may be just as eye-opening for some as it was for me. On the other hand, the Maasai people have been so marginalized that tourists like us have effectively turned their culture into a commodity. It’s difficult to say if the ends justify the means.

Conservation: Not Just About the Animals

While the last several days on Zanzibar have been exciting and full of adventure, they have also been very educational. In addition to the wealth of knowledge provided by Dr. Beymer-Farris and Dr. Bryceson, we have had many opportunities to see conservation efforts along the coast of Tanzania first hand. From marine parks to protected mangrove forests, we have Tanzania has made a concerted effort to protect its natural marine resources. Unfortunately, however, we haven’t been able to talk much about the social effects of conservation, a hot topic in the conservation world.

Throughout Tanzania wildlife and plant life abound. The Serengeti holds a plethora of savanna biota, including the famed last great wildebeest migration; East Africa is famous for its bird watching; and the coast is home to sprawling mangrove forests and beautiful coral reefs. In efforts to protect the natural beauty of the country, the government has sanctioned a smattering of protected conservation areas that keep the resources safe from destructive humans. Off the coast north of Dar we visited Mbudja marine conservation area, a coral island completely roped off as a conservation area. Between Stone Town and Matemwe we stopped at Jozani Chwaka Bay national forest, a conservation area that features swamp forest, salt marshes, and mangrove forests. The park got its start when the Tanzanian government bought the land from a successful Indian logger in order to protect the land from deforestation. Eventually, the government purchased more and more land until Jozani grew into what it is today. Our guide, Shobani, knew everything there was to know about the forest. He knew every plant by its Latin name and local name, the traditional and witchcraft uses for each one, and the history of the park. Each of these places was created to ensure the continuation of the species and ecosystems inside. But what we haven’t talked about much is how these parks and conservation areas have affected the lives of the people who depend on those resources for survival.

In the guest lecture by Dr. Narriman, we did touch on the community benefits of conservation a bit. In her project, women in the coastal village of Fumba are able to actually make jewelry from discarded seashells, which they then sell to stores in Stone Town and even in the US. But the women still face problems of over-use. To combat this, what nirruman tried to convince the women to do was set off a small no-use area. For a certain number of months out of the year, the women would agree not to harvest shells from that area. When they did so, they noticed significant increases in yield. Examples like this could serve as a key argument in the conservation movement: protecting resources from overexploitation could make them more plentiful and resilient. In fact, the ecosystems at Jozani and Mbudya are flourishing.

The problem is that conservation often means restricted use or complete loss of resources. Even in Dr. Nirruman’s project the women couldn’t use that patch of seaweed for several months. In Jozani, the land was bought from local farmers and foresters who can no longer use the fertile soils within, and the Red Colobus monkeys living in the park destroy farmers’ crops. In marine parks all around Zanzibar villages were uprooted and forced to leave their traditional lands for the sake of conservation, and on Mafia Island (just to the south of Zanzibar) fishermen have been banned from the best fishing spots and forced to use ineffective hand lines to catch the fish they depend on for food. To many local resources users around Tanzania, it feels as though the trees and animals are valued more than the people who depend on them.

In the end, while the protection of ecosystems around the world is important for ensuring their (and our) survival, conservation groups need to be mindful that people depend on the very resources they’re trying to protect. While everything so far has been very insightful, the sustainability scientist in me does wish that we had been able to focus more attention on the balance between the ecological and the social. In countries like Tanzania, where wealth exists in natural resources, being able to actually use those resources in a sustainable way could open the door to rapid, but healthy development.

Crossing the Zanzibar Channel: Unguja

After a short trip on a puddle jumper plane just big enough to hold our group, we landed in a small, dinky airport somewhere outside of Stone Town (only one room with the waiting area outside under a tree). I could tell almost immediately that it was a huge transition from the coddling environment of White Sands in Dar es Salaam. For lunch we went to the Walking Show for mutton biryani (supposedly the best in Tanzania, eaten with only the right hand, of course). The hotel is simple, to put it easily. The four guys are in one cement-wall room with a couple of bare bulbs sticking out of the wall, but I don’t mind. By Africa standards I think it’s actually pretty nice. We even have our own bathroom with a shower and flushing toilet.

 

But we don’t spend that much time in the hotel. Once we arrived we really hit the ground running. Our days have been filled with a guest lecture by Dr. Narriman, excursions to the wild open-air market, haggling with shop owners, a 6 hour tour of a Zanzibari spice plantation where we watched Mr. Butterfly dance and sing his way up a coconut tree, and plenty of rich Swahili food. From what I’ve been able to see of Stone Town so far, I love it. It is almost exactly what I expected an African city to be like. The hustle and bustle – read somewhat organized chaos – of a perfectly functional town. The only difference is what we define as fully functioning.

As I sit in the on the shaded rooftop terrace of our hotel listening to distant flute and drum music drifting through the air (which has now been replaced by the melodic call to prayer of the mujahidin), I wonder how an old Arab trading center as magnificent and prosperous as Stone Town has evolved into what we see today. The streets – when there are streets – are dirty and full of trash. The old Portuguese colonial buildings are run down and broken, and nothing above the second story seems to be occupied, unless by a hotel. The farmers on the spice farm aren’t allowed to export the crop Zanzibar is most famous for: cloves. Instead they have to sell to government markets for dismal prices. By American or European standards it would be in shambles. But the town is still amazing and bustling with life. Shops are open and running on every corner, the open-air market is packed shoulder to shoulder with people, and fishermen come in and out of port with a constant stream of sea life. Everyone greets the people they meet on the streets earnestly and warmly, even complete strangers. Politically, Zanzibar is incredibly engaged, with the CUF and CCM parties battling over the somewhat forced annexation of Zanzibar by the mainland and Zanzibari politicians earning ministerial positions in the national government. The island itself is beautiful and the people are happy.

 

At first it seemed to me like the shaky skeleton of a European-style town. But as I spent more time there I realized that it was just Africa. Their way of life is so incredibly different than ours that these big, flashy colonial buildings became more of a nuisance than a necessity. The islanders have learned to function with just what they need, and a European town is full of excess for them. It’s not that Stone Town is failing or broken, it’s merely been adapted to fit the unique Zanzibar way of life – a simpler, happier life that makes everyone feel at home.

 

Karibu Tanzania

When I originally started this blog my aim was to keep family and friends posted on my adventures throughout Spain during last semester’s study abroad trip. Little did I know my travels would lead me just a bit farther south. For the next few weeks I will be blogging about my trip through Tanzania, starting in Dar es Salaam, working my way up to the Serengeti, and heading back east to Mafia Island for a month of research on the Mafia Island Marine Park. For now, enjoy my first post.

Somewhere over France or Germany I began to seriously doubt that I would be able to walk down the aisle once we finally got off the plane – if we ever got off, that is. It seemed like we had been traveling for days, but when we finally touched down in Dar es Salaam (after 30 or 40 hours of travel), the exhaustion left me. We had finally made it to Africa.

Walking out of the airport, the heavy, wet air covered us like a blanket. It felt just like the warmest summer nights back in Savannah, only this was supposed to be the cool season. The first things I see are a crowd of African taxi drivers vying for business and a huge bat with a wingspan on at least a foot gliding into a tree. “Oh yeah,” I thought. “We’re in Africa.”

The ride through Dar to the hotel was something else. At 11pm tons of people were still milling about, lining the sides of the highway, darting across at intervals to greet a friend or examine one the many food stands. The main buildings seemed to be well-lit by new, modern street lights, but the street itself was dark and shadowy. The food vendors relied on what appeared to be kerosene torches for light – a small example of the conflict between the new and the old; the rich and the poor; the “global” and the African.

Once I got used to the traffic and suddenly hitting patches where the road simply stopped being a road, I nodded off. When I awoke, we were cruising alongside the Indian Ocean right before pulling into the White Sands Hotel, the self proclaimed “only four star beach resort in Tanzania.” Because of the threat of a potential demonstration in Dar, a last-minute hotel switch landed us at this swanky beach-side resort (built by a former president’s wife and some corrupt businessmen).

But all of that seems like a year ago. Since then there’s been calamari steaks and tangawizi (ginger ale on steroids), boat rides to islands made of elevated coral reefs, fresh caught grilled fish (eyes and all), snorkeling, and listening to the wealth of knowledge Prof Ian has to offer. We learned how German East Africa grew into what is Tanzania today. How the coral sands of Mbudya are different from the silica sands of Dar. How to eat an entire fish with one hand. How the Tanzanians may well be the most gracious and polite people I’ve ever interacted with. In Swahili, the worst response you can have to the question “How are you?” is “Less good.”

Although our landing has been rather cushy as opposed to being thrown in head first, I feel as though I have already learned and enormous amount. I can’t wait to see what Tanzania has in store.