We had just gotten to the north side of the island an hour before and we had decided to made our way to the shoreline to check out the cheapest places to eat on the beach. The whole thing seemed like a dream (I am still not sure that my time in Zanzibar was real) since suddenly there was Emily surrounded by very dark, skinny, tall men dressed in stripped red cloth. They were holding sticks that were taller then themselves. Their long hair was made of yarn and was attached to the tops of their shaved heads. Each end of the braids were decorated with bright red jewelry or threads of red wrapped around pointed cones. Surprisingly to me their english was exceptional. Unsurprisingly however, their smiles were huge and they were as fascinated by us as I seemed to be with them.
These men were apart of the Maasai Tribe. In Stone Town the night before a guy we ran into warned us that we may see these tribal men walking around town and suggested not take pictures of them without asking. I was clueless in that conversation and figured I would know who these people were when we saw them. That was true and now we were surrounded by something so unknown to me it truly did seem like a……dream.
In the next few hours we learned that the Maasai Tribe are the last warrior tribe functioning in this world. There are about 850,000 in the countries of Kenya and Tanzania. Traditionally, they live in colder climates in places like Arusha where Kilimanjaro towers high above the plains below. Their long hair is a tool to keep them warm in the mountains, but they told us that on the beach it keeps them hot so now they cut it when they want. The Maasai warriors are known as the fastest people in the world so I challenged the tallest one to a race as if I had any chance at winning. I drew a line in the sand, Emily counted down, and we were off. The warrior sped past me and I tried to pull him back, but he was too far ahead. I tumbled into him at the end of the race and we hugged and laughed at the absurdity of it all. After asking each other a series of questions about who each other were, where we came from and why we now found ourselves on the island together we slowly but surly became new friends. Two of them split from the group and the four of us started making our way down the beach to explore more. The Maasai told us all about the banana leaf shops that scattered the beach, who owned them, and what kind of tourists come to islands. They suggested where we should go to have some fun, which ironically enough was the “OBAMA” - a club at the end of the island. They love that man in Africa.
The whole time I was alongside these men I became acutely aware of how much I didn’t know. One hundred questions filled my mind. What was it like growing up here in a culture so thickened with tradition from generations before? Did they ever long for something else? What was it like to be some of the last people that refused to change in an unchanging world? For that alone I naturally held an immense respect for them. Outside of their fluorescent colored Ray Bans that sat on their black noses they seemed to be untouched by the western influence on the island.
The island business men hired the Maasai on the island of Zanzibar to be security for the resorts. I chuckled to myself that this was a pretty practical way for warriors to be used in the 21st century. I asked if they would be willing to take me to their village and show me more about their life and their home. I taught them the pinky promise and our plans were set in stone for 5:30pm the next day. Emily and I made our way up the steps off the beach to a resort to find ourselves something cold to drink. It turns out that those steps would soon prove to be the barrier between our world and theirs. Its what kept the tourists from the locals, the people of privilege from the workers, the whites from the blacks. The gap that we see replicated in so many subtle ways in our daily lives, was obvious here in Zanzibar.
Emily and I had a wonderful dinner. Oddly enough the theme of the dinner was “oriental” which was annoying since I had just got in from Bangkok.
We met the lovely servers there and enjoyed a show of African acrobatics. Emily reminded me a few times of how incredible life was that day. We were spoiled not only by the scenery of this magnificent space, but also by the love the people gave to us; two bubbly balls of energy the first day in our temporary home.
At night we walked down the steps back to beach and over to our cheaper resting spot. At the bottom of the steps there were the Maasai warriors resting with their sticks against the stone wall. They were waiting for us so they could make sure we got home safe. We were already hearing rumors that the beaches could be dangerous at night even for two independent and strong american girls. With the warriors we were in safe hands.
The stars were indescribable. Twinkling and bright they covered the sky from one skyline to the other. I swear that you could see every single constellation that night, and the rest of the nights for that matter. Matched with the sound of salty Indian Ocean from a rising tide, I laid my head down that night with an awe at not only at how much and how often I am reminded of what I do not know, but also how there is something really incredible about not knowing; a mystery in everything around us. A divine design that is so complicated and detailed it always leaves us in a state of wonder if we let it. If we look. If we surrender and let the world lead us in the direction we are pulled by our hearts. If we have grace and are grateful.
I am nearing my time to go home. Zanzibar, Emily, and the Maasai reminded me to be present and sit in that wonder for a little while longer. With good practice maybe I can keep this wonder thing up for the rest of my years here on earth.
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