Back in Civilization (kind of)

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Hello All!

I finally have found a corner of Africa with WiFi, a hammock, and an even rarer anomaly; a cold beer! I therefore will now attempt to give you a detailed summary of my past 4 weeks volunteering with the Maasai. Before I start, I will apologise that I am having to cram everything into one post; I will try to include as much as possible but unfortunately some may have to wait for my return otherwise I will spend all my time on this beautiful island of Zanzibar typing. You wouldn't want me to go through such hardship right?

Since I did write my first post in Paris, I feel I should give a quick word on Amsterdam. It will only be quick though because thinking about Europe is going to make me teary-eyed. Taylor and I loved Amsterdam and it's become one of my favourite cities, though not for the obvious red light reasons you're thinking of. There's relaxed vibrancy about Amsterdam; there are no strict restrictions, you can drink, smoke, visit a prostitute if you're so inclined but nobody does so in excess. Even the Brits we came across were uncharacteristically well-behaved. It's just a young city full of people being allowed to do what they want to enjoy themselves but nobody goes too far and ruins the night for someone else. It's a place which can be enjoyed by literally everyone; a point that was proven when we spotted a tour group of OAPs walking down the red light district. There faces were also beaming with joy rather than disgust. There's also culture if you I insist on being dull, most of which comes in the form of cheese and art. We merrily gorged ourselves on one and appreciated the other. There of course is also the trip to the Anne Frank House. I was blown away by how well they had done it and paid tribute. Rather than just bombard you with facts and statistics about the Holocaust, they humanized the experience. It was just a simple stroll around an unfurnished house which they had kept most of the original features. It was the small details such as the pencil markings on the wall that had been drawn by the children as they measured their height throughout their 2 years in hiding, that really struck a chord with me. No longer was the event a blur of numbers and facts; you felt what it was like. At the end of the tour, there was a video with comments from various visitors and celebrities. The final voice on the video was Emma Thompson. Her message was that it was important to remember that "Anne Frank's would-haves are our opportunities". I couldn't think of a better sentiment to send me off on my African journey. Right that's it, enough about the EU. It's too soon.

Having left Taylor in Amsterdam airport, 6 hours later I was waiting for my connection in Doha, Qatar. The only reason I'm mentioning this unpleasant chapter in my travels is that I want you to know how hot that place is. I've never felt heat like it and I never want to again. The fact people choose to live there is a downright disgrace let alone hosting a World Cup. Rant over.

8 hours after that and I was looking out of a plane window, gazing at the summit of Mt. Kilimanjaro which was peaking over the top of the clouds. I loved that that was the first thing of Africa that I saw. Just over 24 hours later and I was arriving in the Maasai village of Endulen, deep in the Ngorongoro Conservation Area. It was a far cry from the Tanzanian city of Arusha that I had spent my first night in. There was peace and tranquillity, let alone stunning sunset views and wildlife. In my long drive to the village, I had seen giraffes, zebras, buffalos, and baboons. I had also got a glimpse of the incredible Ngorongoro Crater, which had been created by a huge meteorite millions of years ago.

On my very first day, I couldn't resist playing football with some of the Maasai men who had turned up to training at the village pitch in their knock-off premier league kits. They all support Manchester United or Arsenal here so that shows you how backward they are. Anyways, long story short I severely sprained my ankle and was hobbling around for the rest of the week. I guess I'm too used to playing on the carpet pitches that we had on the gypsy field at Matfield FC. The first pothole I came across on the Maasai pitch and I went right over on my ankle causing it to swell to the size of a tennis ball. Putting on shoes would be an enjoyable experience for the next 2 weeks.

After 1 day off my feet I started my volunteering jobs; after all standing was ok, it was walking that hurt. On Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday mornings I would work on building the teachers houses in the nearby village of Esere, and then on Thursday and Friday mornings I would teach English classes at the local primary school. The building was easy when they just asked me to paint the walls. The difficult bit came when we had to do the plumbing. In theory, it was simple, lay a pipe that would run straight from the bathroom to the sewage well. However the builder that was previously working on the project made the stupid mistake of concreting over the well before the pipe had been laid down. This left me knocking through 2 feet of solid rock and concrete with nothing but a hammer and a chisel. My hand had not been so covered in blisters since my rowing days. Eventually a hole big enough was created, the pipe was laid down and was cemented back over. At least no one can say I haven't poured my blood, sweat, and tears into the job. On my gravestone, I want it to say "James Evans; helping Africans to defecate since 2016".

Despite my first fears, I actually had a happier time teaching. Sure, my class around 50 struggled to understand me (I have been repeatedly told that my English accent makes English hard to understand. This is what happens when we allow Yanks to run everything), but the experience felt very rewarding. After each lesson they seemed to have learnt the topic so I knew I was doing something right. They even rewarded me with a pot of small honey from the school bee boxes. It's also an experience that has made me incredibly grateful for my own education. These kids had a lack of textbooks, exercise books and even desks. I felt that the curriculum was incredibly tough on them too; I was teaching primary school kids words that I had not come a cross myself until well into secondary school. They were also being taught my teachers who themselves spoke very broken English. It's a constant uphill struggle for them, it's a miracle if any of them become well educated.

In the afternoons and weekends, I would spend my time with the Maasai people, taking part in their various ceremonies and celebrations and integrating into their culture. After a few days I decided that the best tactic to take was to say "yes" to everything, although I have since been told that this tactic has backfired on most volunteers. Nonetheless, I dove head first into attending circumcision ceremonies, eating meat and blood mixtures, drinking homemade alcohol (the local brew is a mixture of aloe Vera and honey which ferments and becomes alcohol after a week or so), herding cows, milking cows, butchering cows, and harvesting honey. Before any vegans reel in shock at the term "butchering a cow", relax; I didn't kill one, just helped to skin it and then watched in awe as they took the carcass apart in no time at all before they had all the recognisable cuts that we see in the supermarket. Nothing goes to waste either. Even the organs get used for food in some way or another.

Harvesting the honey was a whole other ordeal. No, I was not supplied with a protective suit. When I first arrived here, it was enjoyable to no longer be in the United Land of Health and Safety, but when I came to harvesting honey in a hoodie and jeans, I found myself in need of a good old risk assessment. For protection, they burn some form of Magic Mushrooms and drop them into the bee boxes and wait for 5 minutes. When the box is reopened, the bee's are all either comatosed or too dopey to know what is happening. We were then able to cut the honey out without much resistance. There's nothing like the taste of warm honey, I feasted on the stuff. Meanwhile, the bee's were clearly unhappy with some of my helpers as they kept yelping "SHIT!". They didn't know much English but they knew that; I couldn't help but chuckle. I was soon made to pay for my smugness as a bee, attracted by the smell of the honey dripping from my fingers, found it's way on to my finger and sank its stinger into me. I might have taught them some extra expletives after that.

Right, I must insist that I go and explore Zanzibar now. I realize that I have not discussed the Maasai or their culture but I promise I will do so either later today or tomorrow. Hope you are all well.

James

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Photos

Ngorongoro Crater
Never made it inside but the view was satisfying enough.

Giraffe Herd
This awaited me on my way back from the hospital

Hard at Work
Knocking through 3 foot of concrete and rock with nothing but a hammer and a chisel.

Maasai Selfie
I don't think Mepu ever understood the concept of a selfie...

Maasai Giraffe
The darker fur meant that these giraffe were called 'Maasai Giraffe' to the locals.

Women Dancing
The 2 groups would compete although it was never explaine to me how we knew who won.

Warrior's Dance at the Circumcision
The Maasai would also dance at the ceremony.

Mepu's "Boma"
This is where Mepu lived with his Mother and 3 sisters.

View
The views were stunning all around Endulen.

Official Photos of the Chairman of the village
These photos were examined and approved for show by Saboray, the chairman of Endulen.