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Chaga Woman
26 x 28
oil on canvas

Last spring I went on Safari. It was utterly breath taking and I recommend Tanzania to everyone that asks.  I realize I have not written anything about my amazing trip, I think the only explanation is that its was so wonderful and so much happened that it has been difficult to sit down and consolidate my thoughts. I saw every animal I can think of. Highlights being Black rhino, tree climbing leopards, Cheetah talking to each other about 5 feet from our vehicle, elephants, giraffes and elephants running and grazing with their heards, every type of bird and antelope, we even saw a lion pride kill a buffalo, and not to mention being in the middle of the wildebeest  migration.

But I could not introduce this painting with out a full recollection of the people I met.  I visited different tribes to get an idea of what the country was really like past all the safari tourist groups. After my safari I stayed in Karatu and first visited the Imbulu tribe which had a basic skit set up for visitors.

“This how we plant, and  this is how we make that weird drink we’re known for….”, “Come sit by me I will tell you your life..” I had my stones read, and she told me that I worked with many people.. I guess when you think about Americans, you are always working with many people. Anyway, after that I took time to  walk through the village market with a swahili translator.
I bought tire shoes, met the translator’s suppliers of meat and vegitables (he was a chef during his regular job) people said “jamaba”, and told me how pretty my hair was, and I got to see the play ground installed by some American program. It was great.

Most tourists choose to see Maasai in a popular Boma at the entrance to the Ngorogoro, I was determined to see  the warriors without 20 other tourists behind me, so I chose to pay to get back into reserve. I had a different swahili translator with me this time. He could say OK, Yes and No in english. That was it. After 4 hours of driving we achieved some sort of ridiculous sign language that only he and I could understand. My entrance into the Boma was interesting. They first did a welcome dance for me, this consisted of the men jumping as high as they could and then the woman. They sang and moved their head up with their chests making those cool necklaces bob around. Then it was my turn and I did not want to do this. One of the Maasai had my camera and was SUPER excited to photograph me jumping. I would made a very bad 1st impression if I didn’t, so i jumped and looked silly. But it was fun and the woman thought I was great and the men laughed. We were on the crater rim and I was alone with my new Maasai escorts. I was completely alone but felt well taken care of, my sign language buddy pushed me along and waved goodbye for the hour.  My new tour guide, an 18 year old Maasai warrior who spoke excellent English, showed me where he lived with his mother and where all of his brothers and sisters lived with their mothers. The are a ‘plural’ marriage community. After the man turns 18 they look for their 1st wife and build their 1st home. They start to have kids, look for another wife, build another home and the Boma grows. The homes are made of bark and dung and constructed in a nautilus shape. He led me in to his small round 8ft by 8ft home, through the narrow winding entrance. The room was completely pitch black with an exception of one small head size ‘hole’  or ‘window’. After my eyes adjusted enough to the light and could see his silhouetted figure I asked questions about this lifestyle. He explained his home was built this way to confuse lions and keep them out of their homes. Woah. Apparently Maasai are called warriors because they can ward off and kill lions. The red cloth they wear is supposed to fend off lions because its mimics the color of fire, every wool cloth pattern has meaning.

After visiting the school where children filed in to greet me with their ABC’s in swahili and english I asked if I could wander around the village by myself. I was givien permission with slight trepidation on the part of my warrior guide.  I watched woman with their children, taking the afternoon to make those round beautiful beaded necklaces, chatting etc. My short stroll around the Boma ended in the center where all of the gorgeous beaded jewelry hung around the packed cow ‘paddock’. The cows are essential to Maasai life, they spend all day allowing them to graze and while the warriors protect them from the predatory lions. The people live off the milk, meat and blood. Traditionally the blood is known to give strength. I really respect the Maasai value of tradition and their contentment in what they have. I asked my 18 year old guide if he would ever  leave this type of life and move to a different type of community. He said that some do, they have one wife and life in the modern community and that os ok for them, they are always allowed to come back and visit. But he loves his traditions and is planning to keep them, he wants to find his 1st wife and start his Boma in the next year or two.

The Chaga tribe was the last group I made an effort to meet. First of all, I had no idea what I was going to see. There was no brochure and nothing online really. My safari, Fay Safaris, organized everything for me, and told me it was worth it. So I went. They live on Mount Kilimanjaro and are they don’t get many visitors. Although they aren’t as visually exciting as the Maasai, the Chaga were my favorite. I had to bring a Swahili and Chaga translator, we did not climb (I didn’t have enough time) so we drove and then walked up a separate route to introduce me to the mountain. We walked up a gravel path that turned into dirt, walked over a bridge with missing planks that took us to the bottom of a hill that we walked up to reach the tribe. It was beautiful, green everywhere except for huge white flowers on the edge of the path.

The Chaga woman in the painting.

After arriving in the village I met a woman who had to be in her mid 80’s, she was worn down but had a big smile on her face. Later I learned she was in her mid 50’s. You could tell they didn’t get many ‘muzungus’ in their home, and they were happy to see me. I was given a seat while the translators helped them tell me about their land and what they do during a regular day. While they were talking with me her daughter who is in the painting, was doing regular chores with her  little boy who wore purple rain boots. The litte boy was picking up weeds and putting them in a pile for their cow to eat, but he would only carry one at a time. The daughter thought this was entertaining and had a HUGE smile on her face.

(On a side note. People in Cameroon smile, but this particular relaxed expression stood out to me)

Next the woman I thought was 80 took me into the original home her father built. It was made of straw mud and dung and in the form of a round hill. Like the boma it was pitch black inside I was asked to sit on one of  two benches that used to be a beds, she explained to me how her father slept on one and mother on the other but now they use the room for cooking. All of a sudden I felt something push against me followed but a crunching sound. I jumped and screamed (like a freak) and after everyone started laughing at me, saw the culprit, a goat in the corner . After she lit a small gas lamp I also found that a giant cow was behind him chomping on some of that greenery the boy in the purple boots had collected. After I calmed down the translators helped me ask the woman questions about her life and children. She said her father taught her everything about planting and raising animals. She showed me the cooking tools he showed her how to carve. Now she is teaching her grandchildren the trades because ‘its too late for my daughter’. She was married when she was 19  and has two grandchildren that she helps her daughter raise. All the families live next to one another in houses on a flat patch of dirt surrounded by their farm of fruit trees. She wanted to know why I was traveling alone and asked me if I was married, when I said ‘no’ she responded “good for you” with a big smile. She wanted to know what I did for money. She thought it was wonderful that I could take care of myself and told me she liked a lot of the foreigners she met. Some from Australia and England. She told me she wished she could have done some traveling but is happy with her life. After our talk she took a picture with me, and asked me to come back and visit someday when I had a family. As a parting gift she offered me a fruit that looked like an orange tomato. She waited for me to eat it in front of her and then offered me another before we headed back down the hill to explore the rest of the mountain.


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