29 Oct Tanzania: in Maasai land

Here I am again, to transport you once more to the culprit of most of my messes and ravings: Africa. It's taken me a while to get back to the blog because I've been a little bit upset, but don't worry, because I'm getting back in control of my life. Someone I love very, very, very much told me recently that change and chaos (and when he said chaos for once he didn't mean my room) precede a storm of possibilities... And that's how I find myself, waiting for the deluge.

Among the many painful decisions I have had to make, one has been to abandon the Lateral (yes, you read that right) and move the centre of gravity of my aperitifs to the Whitby, which for now is in a trial period, although we are still open to new sponsors. For the time being, it seems that the gin and tonics here are more charged and favour the flow of lazy ideas. I remember that afternoon, just before a flight to Tanzania, when we dedicated ourselves to developing impossible projects to improve the lives of bikers. Something that could get us out of poverty, let's go...

It all started when we thought of that model of motorbike airbag I found in Bamako. Some of you may remember it

Then it occurred to us to develop a prototype that would guarantee the motorcyclist's watertightness and keep him dry at all times regardless of the weather conditions... But when we arrived in Kissi, Kenya, I was horrified to see that the project had been stolen...

We also designed a model of motorbike, eminently agrarian and multidisciplinary, capable of carrying the family and the whole family, to ride on all types of terrain or to have a top case (boot) that allows you to transport, I don't know... up to 30 chickens at a time, and look where, when we arrived at Karatu, in Tanzania, I saw that once again they had stolen our idea....

Well, I was going to continue with more prototypes, but I realised that this new bullshit that I have just told you and with which I have been so happy, was no longer enough. So I'm going to go back to my initial idea, which was to show you an ethnic group that has become synonymous with bravery and exoticism, although for me they are closer to myth than reality, and the best thing they have, and it's a lot, is that the land they live in is incredible.

It is very likely that the origin of the Maasai legend can be traced back to Joseph Thomson's account of that expedition, the first traveller through their territory back in 1883. Thomson, a lifelong Thomson, was in awe of those fierce, milk-and-blood-drinking warriors and their sense of dignity. (Incidentally, the famous Thomson gazelles are named after him, in an affectionate sense, of course, not as an allusion to anything that might have come out of his testicles while he was discovering other worlds).

Actually, those fierce warriors were not the Maasai but their neighbours the Iloikop, who were later absorbed by them, but the next expedition of Karl Peters, of the Peters of Madrid, continued to mix the rites of both and the legend grew. Today, the "Moran" warriors' ritual of facing a lion armed only with a spear, their custom of never showing pain or dancing by jumping very high to conquer a woman are now part of UNESCO's Intangible Heritage.

This aura of exoticism that has enveloped them ever since has made more than a few people lose their minds. Few people know that in the late 19th century there was an epidemic of love, known as masaitis, during which a large number of British colonial administrators abandoned their posts to go and live with as many Maasai women in their manyattas (villages). It seems that this is the first documented evidence that exists about the birth of the dogflautas..., then came the pecos, the porritos, peace and all that...

The last episode of this epidemic was made into a film called The White Masai, a girl who fell so madly in love with a Masai that she returned to Tanzania to live with him, leaving her lifelong Germanic boyfriend (who evidently jumped much less than the Masai...).

Although my surname is very Mandinka, in many ways I identify with the Maasai. Many years ago, when I was a warrior, I also fed myself mixing milk and blood, as I remember that more than one Saturday morning I had breakfast dipping black pudding in the colacao, and I often remember having danced while jumping in the discotheque with similar results, (similar day after day, close to the empty set). Although I attribute this to the fact that in the discotheque Patos de Torrelodones, (pronounced Turledons) there was a shortage of masai girls who are the ones who really appreciate this kind of graceful evolutions that only I can give on the dance floor...

Although they try to keep the traditions of the past alive, times have changed a great deal and the Maasai have had to adapt to them. It is no longer risky to cross their territory, nor are the warriors so warlike, nor do they go out to hunt a lion with a spear to prove their courage... but I will not be the one to detract from their merit, as I have seen them grazing on foot, in areas frequented by lions, and the truth is that I, well, look, I don't dare to do that.

Nor have the Maasai been unaffected by the effects of globalisation, it is incredible that there are two things that everyone knows from village to village. The first is the line-up of that football team in Catalonia that I always get mixed up with and can never remember the name of...

And the second thing that everyone knows is the spoon's blog. You can't imagine, they just see me, recognise me and don't stop asking me for autographs... Either that, or my great resemblance so often mentioned with George Clooney's little brother... the fact is that they recognise me.

I said at the beginning that the best thing about the Masai is their territory, which is incredible, and I am going to insist on this theme. I have frequented this area a lot, and I have to say that I remember each and every one of the days I have spent here, and much more especially their nights. None of them has ever left me indifferent, there has always been something special...

I love nights by the fire in good company, enjoying the stars, lots of stories and the noises of the wild animals that prowl the camping areas. For this alone, I need to come back again and again... It will stay in my memory forever, the incredible night I spent this summer in Banagi, when a sizable group of hyenas, following a couple of lionesses on the hunt, approached the camp and treated us to a night of laughter, howling and fighting.

Every summer the Great Migration takes place, a mystery of nature that sees millions of Chinese come to the Mara River to photograph a few undecided wildebeest as they cross or perish in the attempt.

And that's it for today. To say goodbye, and so that once again you can see how tender I can be, I leave you with some photos of masses of children to see if you like them. This first one, you can see that he is not a Masai, he is more like a Mandinka...

here go the Masai