Leaving South Africa

The Dumbest Animal Alive... 80% of the world's farmed ostriches are concentrated in the very small region in southern South Africa
SA 101, originally uploaded by Benjamin Long.

Africa is usually generalized as one entity to the outside world. If something happens in Rwanda, people generalize it with the whole continent and not just with the country. In fact, Africa is the second largest continent in the world with many very distinct cultures. Travelling through a small portion of the continent has made me aware of this. Tanzania, Malawi and South Africa are all very different with their own distinctive culture. Tanzania and Malawi are very poor countries while South Africa is the shining light in Africa in terms of development.
Throughout Tanzania and Malawi, I travelled using public transport catching minibuses and taxis from town to town. I felt perfectly comfortable being jammed into minibuses like sardines, often cramming over twenty people into a ten-seat bus. I grew accustomed to this and began to enjoy the experience because I never knew what would happen next. One ride in Tanzania included a drunken bus driver that almost hit a giraffe, a woman breast-feeding literally inches from my face and at every stop the bus would be swarmed with people selling anything from cell-phone credit to chickens. Bus rides quickly turned into miniature adventures where anything could happen. Malawi was similar in that people were crammed into buses that were definitely not road worthy and travelled long distances. Everyone was hot, sweaty and uncomfortable together and I never felt threatened.
The atmosphere quickly changed when I started travelling through South Africa. The country is very modern with great infrastructure. I call it the European offshoot in Africa. It is not that I don’t like South Africa. I like it a lot but it is not ‘Real Africa’ that I have grown to love. Modernization and development brings with it many problems that countries around the world are confronting and South Africa is no different. The main problem facing South Africa is the staggering 43% unemployment which fuels the ramped crime. This is the main reason travellers stay away from public transport while in the country. Most travellers hire cars to travel within South Africa because the infrastructure is first-class and there is no concern about police checkpoints that sometimes require a bride in other African countries.
I have grown to love each country for different reason while in Africa. Tanzania and Malawi are third-world countries that provided me with massive culture shocks. I was busy learning Swahili, getting accustomed to eating chewy bland goat meat, porridge (called Ugale in Tanzania and Nsima in Malawi), and other colourful local dishes that usually made my stomach a little queasy, and at the same time, sticking out like a sore thumb being the only white person in sight in many cases. It sounds terrible but I loved it. It was so new and exciting. That is probably why I have decided to leave South Africa prematurely.
In South Africa, I have experienced constant culture shocks just by walking through grocery stores or shopping centres. I will be the first one to admit that I did not fully understand the level of development in South Africa before I arrived, but I have met many travellers that had a much more skewed viewed of the country. I met one American traveller in a very nice mall in Bloemfontein, the capital city of Free State province. She was complaining that there were no lions or giraffes walking around the public parks or city streets. She was under the impression that elephants, zebras and various other species of wildlife roam about the streets unchecked by humans. She was so wrong that instead of being comical it became depressing.
South Africa is not identical to the States but similar enough to prompt my early exit. I am departing for Namibia to live with the Himba people in the Kaokoland. The region is in the Northwestern part of the country in the middle of the harsh Kalahari Desert. The Himba are said to be very similar to the Maasai but have been more resistant to change. It should be another massive culture shock but I will be happy to get back to ‘Real Africa’.

The Not So Simple Life

SA 110, originally uploaded by Benjamin Long.

A farmer’s life is often referred to as ‘the simple life’ due to its laid back lifestyle far removed from the hustle and bustle of city life. Sadly, this is not the case is South Africa. South Africa has the highest violent crime rate in the world that is fueled by ramped unemployment. Conventional wisdom would tell us to move far away from the cities that typically provide safe-havens for criminals to the country where it is safer; again, the simple life. The harsh reality in South Africa is that farming is the most dangerous profession in the country with security guards coming in a close second. Cities may harbor more criminals but they also provide more security services that secluded farmers in the countryside do not have access to. I have been living in a small town called Vryburg. On the surface, it is very similar to a small Midwestern town in the States. At first glance, the farming is also very similar. In reality, the dangers in South Africa are unfathomable to people living in small-town America.
I can’t help but think of Holcomb, Kansas when trying to compare rural South Africa with rural America. Holcomb is the setting for the infamous farm murders that shook rural America to its core. It was a senseless farm murder with no real motivation behind it. This murder has been made famous by Truman Capote’s book, In Cold Blood, and subsequent Hollywood movie, Capote. This one farm murder that happened in 1959 is still remembered in the American media today and still strikes fear into small towns across the country. In South Africa, farm murders occur with such frequency that they often do not even make the evening news. I do not have the actual statistics for the yearly farm murders in the country, but everyone I ask about the issue simply says that it happens quite often in many regions.
Farm murders are not the only major problem facing South Africa farmers today. The farmers must check their herds on a consistent basis to prevent stock theft. The unemployment rate in the country hovers around 40% and stealing stock is an alternative way to make a living for many people. The local stock sale every Friday has a high number of baby calves for sale. These are mostly all calves that have been stolen from the surrounding farms. Some thieves are smart about it and feed the calves for a week or even a month in an effort to disguise the stolen calf, but some can’t afford to wait that long and take the stolen calf directly to the sale. I have met a farmer from the Kwazulu-Natal region that has suffered eight stock thefts this year alone totaling R100,000 ($15,000). I have been staying on a farm run by Dick Richardson and he too has suffered from stock theft. On his farm, the police were the culprits of the stock theft. The problem was only resolved after a shootout. There are also stories of stock left being perpetrated by the farm workers. For example, when the absentee landowner asks the worker how many calves were born this week, the worker would say one when there were actually three. The trusting boss accepts this and goes on with his daily routine. When the boss does visit the herd, the worker will hide the two calves or sell them before his arrival. The selling of one calf will provide the thief with enough money to live off of for at least a month in most cases.
Dick has another problem that is much more imminent. His farm, Brussels Estate, is located on a prime stripe of land rumored to contain alluvial diamonds. Property rights in South Africa are not like in the USA. If the diamond diggers want your land, they usually get whether the farmer likes it or not. The same applies to the government. If they want the land they take it, and if you’re lucky they will pay you a fair price. Many farms throughout the country are being reclaimed by the government as ancestral tribal lands. The farm is then taken from white farmers and given to blacks with minimal farming experience. A farm that once supported one family is divided up among multiple families.
A perfect case study of this is in Zimbabwe. Zimbabwe was once referred to as ‘the breadbasket of Africa.’ The country holds some of the best farmland in the world and at one time, its surpluses fed many surrounding African countries. Robert Mugabe, the leader of Zimbabwe, then started to expel white farmers, giving the land to unskilled black farmers. The result has been catastrophic. However, it is not all the black farmer’s fault. The government does not give them ownership of the land, only the rights to farm it. With no direct ownership, the farmers have no way to get loans from the bank and therefore, no way raise capital to run the farms even if they did have the necessary skilled required, which most do not. The citizens of Zimbabwe must now travel into neighboring countries to find food because there is none inside the country. Agriculture was the backbone of the once booming economy and now the farms lie in ruin.
I have constantly asked myself the question, “Could the same thing happen in South Africa?” As for now, if the government decides to take your farm, they will pay you a fair price; you will just have to wait three to five years to get the money. But, the replacement black farmers are still not given ownership of the land, only the right to farm it. This creates the same problems that led to Zimbabwe’s downfall.

In the face of all of these problems, the farmers in South Africa continue on with their daily lives like nothing is wrong. As I said earlier, everything appears to be in order on the surface. In reality, the future does not look good for farmers. As Dick says, “you don’t know whether it’s a light at the end of the tunnel or a train.” Their resilience is amazing and should be admired. One thing is for sure, nothing drastic will happen until after 2010 when South Africa will host the Football (Soccer) World Cup. Until then, the government is forced to maintain order and can’t take drastic measures like in Zimbabwe. After 2010, many key issues are debatable, including the direction of the country.

Arriving in South Africa

The local livestock auction is every Friday. The cattle are sold and then marked with the numbered irons to identify the animal's buyer.

Vryburg, originally uploaded by Benjamin Long.

I arrived in Johannesburg in the middle of the night with no real plan. My friend’s father was in town for business so I thought I would look him up. I found his hotel and soon realized that he had checked out the previous day. It was a very nice hotel. Everyone was wearing suits and cocktail dresses while I was wearing the same T-shirt and shorts for about a week at that point. Needless to say, I stuck out. Then I got very lucky, again. The guest services manager named Lindy asked me what I was doing. I thought I was in trouble or something but she ended up being very nice. I explained to her what I was doing in the lobby of her hotel and quickly made friends with her. She called a hostel and arranged for them to come pick me up (for free) and then took me into the lounge and gave me a beer (again for free). So there I was, sitting in this five-star hotel lounge with a smelly T-shirt, muddy pants from the hike and loving every minute of it. It was a big culture shock coming from Malawi, which is one of the poorest countries in the world, but I did not complain.
My ride finally came and I was sad to leave the leather couch and very trendy bar. But, it was back to reality at my hostel. When I arrived, I asked to make a phone call. The receptionist said that wasn’t possible. I then asked to use the Internet. Again, he told me that wasn’t possible. I informed him that I could pay for these services. He then said with a chuckle, “ No, you don’t understand. You really can’t. Someone has stolen the phone lines.” I thought he was joking, but he informed me that it is quite common for people to steal the phone lines because they can sell the copper wiring. The next morning, while eating breakfast, I got another reality check. I was looking through my guidebook when I heard a banging sound. I looked up and a man was using a lead pipe to dislodge a light fixture from the side of the hostel. He was successful at dislodging the fixture, pulled it off the wall, looked at me, smiled and then ran away. In a country that has 43% unemployment, crime has become a daily occurrence. This is why razor wire and metal bars are a common decoration for homes, shopping centers and practically any modern building. I thought I was in a war zone walking through some parts of Johannesburg. I left that day and headed to Pietermaritzburg to stay with Justin and Gill Platt, the aunt and uncle of a friend of mine. It was nice to relax for a couple of days. After resting, I was ready to get back on the road. I went to a small farming town called Vryburg where I arranged to work on a farm.
Vryburg is in the Kalahari thorn-veld region in the Northwest Province of South Africa. The region is often refereed to as ‘the Texas of South Africa’ due to its similar landscape with Texas. I was looking forward to living in an English speaking environment but my hopes were soon dashed when I realized Afrikaans was the spoken language in the area. The family I am staying with can speak fluent English, which is a relief. I was in Vryburg for only two days when the family left for a week. I was basically left to housesit and look after the farm while they were away. I was kept busy helping the farm workers fix wind-mills, herd cattle on horseback (it was the first time in ten years I rode a horse), mending fence and tending to other daily farming activities. It is very much a modern farm and very similar to my family farm at home.

TJW 1st Quarterly Report

flickr 001, originally uploaded by Benjamin Long.

When I decided to come to Africa, I did not fully understand the consequences of my decision. I was simply looking for an adventure. I bought an English to Swahili dictionary, the Tanzania Lonely Planet guidebook, watched the movies, read the books and I thought I was ready. I boarded a plane headed for Tanzania to learn about the Maasai. I did not know exactly how I was going to accomplish this feat seeing how I knew no one in Tanzania. I had received one return email from a man that said he might be able to help which never actually happened. The flight went smoothly and I touched down at Kilimanjaro Airport in the middle of the night. I retrieved my bag, cleared customs, walked outside to find dozens of touts and taxi drivers accosting me for my business, and at that moment, I realized that I could not have been more naïve to what I was about to experience.
It has been said that there are two different kinds of white people: those who have never found themselves in a situation where the majority of people around them are not white, and those who have never been the only white person in the room. Until three months ago, I would unequivocally been classified as the former. I grew up in a very safe homogenous environment and college was much of the same. The airport was a rude awakening but not nearly to the extent as living with the Maasai in Longido.
Longido by western standards is a very small economically depressed village with dilapidated buildings serving as a truck stop between Nairobi and Arusha. In reality, it is a bustling town in the heart of Maasailand. Even though it was a lively town for the region, there were very few white people present. There are the occasional tourists stopping to get their cultural tourism experience portion of their African safari, and a few volunteers scattered about. This is by no means a racially biased assessment of the village. It is simply the reality that for the first time I discovered what is like to be the minority. I was simply referred to as ‘the mzungu’, which is the universal African term for ‘white tribe.’ Young children would run up to me, touch my skin or my beard, then turn and run, yelling and screaming with excitement. The very young children that were less brave would simply start crying at the mere sight of me.
I was trying to cope with the massive culture shock internally with very little success. It was day ten of the trip when it all became overwhelming. Being the minority for the first time in my life, witnessing appalling poverty around every corner, and looking at everything with the big picture in mind, all became too much. I cracked, but luckily I had someone to confide in; Paul, Sarah, and Jane. They were American volunteers spending three weeks in Longido that just so happened to coincide with my first three weeks in Longido. They helped me understand that in Africa you can’t think of the big picture because it is too depressing. Instead, you take it one day at a time; do what you can, and hope that it will make a difference. That simple piece of advice helped me cope with what I was experiencing. I was very fortunate to have them.
This solved my internal conflict, at least, for a while. I then started asking myself other questions about the Maasai culture and questioning the reason behind many of the social and economic systems that were completely foreign to me. I spent one whole week reading every book I could find about the Maasai. I began to understand much of what I was seeing around me. This newfound knowledge also had its consequences because what frees one’s mind saddens one’s heart. A perfect example of this is the disparity between my comprehending two very similar ceremonies with the Maasai; a wedding and a female circumcision ceremony.
I attended the wedding after only being in Africa for five days. I was still very much a tourist; wide-eyed and naïve to what was going on around me. I was taking lots of pictures to document the very lively dancing and singing that is carried out during the two-day ceremony. I did not have the slightest clue what any of it meant. All I knew was that the morans (warrior class) performed most of the dancing and singing in a formation that looked like a horseshoe. The nditos (uncircumcised girls) gathered at the open end of the horseshoe of morans. Both the morans and nditos were wearing their respective ceremonial attire with red ochre painted on their faces and intricate beadwork worn as necklaces, earrings, and headdresses, often overlapping each other. I was is awe at the beauty of their singing and dress; again, being a tourist.
The two-day festival climaxed just before sunset on the second day. The nditos took over the singing and entered into the horseshoe formation of morans. I was simply told that it was time for each ndito to pick the moran she thought performed the best during the ceremony. I was so naïve that I didn’t read between the lines. It was only after I attended a female circumcision ceremony a month later that I realized what was actually going on. The nditos were picking the morans that they would share their bed with that night. Keeping in mind, the nditos range from ages seven to fifteen and the morans between ages eighteen and thirty. That was the biggest reality-check of my life. I remember when it all materialized and at that moment, I decided to leave the ceremony early. It just became too much to handle.
The Maasai are renowned for being one of the most conservative tribes in all of Africa, but they can no longer resist change. Their culture as a whole is in a transition phase. Most young girls are not circumcised and not all marriages are arranged. Although this still occurs among the traditional Maasai, it is becoming less common because most people are trying to emulate western culture, especially the younger generations. During the ceremonies I attended, there would occasionally be a moran leave the singing procession to wonder aimlessly around in order to find cell phone service. There are many other traces of western culture integrating into their culture as well.
The Maasai are not alone in trying to emulate the west; they are actually far behind the rest of Africa. Across Tanzania and Malawi, I have been surprised to find western pop culture everywhere I go. It is sad that many of the cultures are disappearing across Africa, and the world is slowly developing into one big homogenous culture. I have mixed feelings about this and don’t know what to think of it yet.
It is hard to believe that three months have already passed. It has been a crazy chain of completely random events that has continued to perpetuate itself culminating in my current location in South Africa. I do not know how I have done many of the things I have done or how I have arrived at my current destination, but it has been an adventure.

Mt. Mulanje

IMG_0406, originally uploaded by Benjamin Long.

The local legend, claim to fame or whatever you what to call it is that J.R. Tolkien visited Mt. Mulanje shortly before writing The Hobbit. People even say that the mountain gave him inspiration in writing the Lord of the Rings trilogy. I do not know if it is true or just a ploy to get tourists, but I will say the landscapes of Mt. Mulanje are very similar to the books. It was probably the most remarkable place I have ever visited. Usually over the course of a three-day hike you will be able to experience a few different types of vegetation and landscape. On Mt. Mulanje, around every turn there is a completely different environment. Literally every fifteen to thirty minutes along the hike, we were travelling through a completely different world. One minute, we were walking through dense rain forests with lush green vegetation and waterfalls, and ten minutes later we would be traversing through massive tracts of scorched deforested land. As soon as we were accustomed to the blackened forested, we would enter another world filled with boulders littering across yellow pastures standing almost above our heads. I thought places like this only existed in the dream world or science fiction movies but I was pleasantly surprised to find that is exists in the real world as well.
I hiked the mountain with two friends that I met in Nkhata Bay, Michael and Hagar. Hagar was a great cook which made the trip that much more enjoyable. We stocked up on food in Blantyre and headed for the mountain. Travelling anywhere using public transportation in Africa is experience in itself. After taking three different minibuses with an hour and a half wait for one to fill up with people, we finally made it to the forestry office. We hired a porter, James, and prepared for the hike. We hiked for about an hour the first morning to a waterfall where we planned to eat breakfast and take a swim. It was a great way to start the hike. The rest of the morning we were all in amazed of the beauty and diversity the mountain had to offer. We were travelling through many miniature ecosystems the whole morning, which fed our enthusiasm. As soon as we reached our first tract of blackened earth, a massive thunderstorm erupted sending rain and hail pouring down on us. It was an eerie coincidence to emerge from a lush rain forest into a dismal landscape only to have the weather act accordingly.
The second day was much of the same; wide-eyed and excited to see what would be around the next corner. It was only a four-hour hike to the next hut where we dropped off our things and headed to the peak. Michael and I hiked reached the summit (3002m) by mid-day just in time to relax and soak it all in. The views were stunning, but another rainstorm ended our much-deserved break. We made it back down to the hut to find Hagar preparing dinner for us. We celebrated reaching the peak with a couple beers (which was a bad idea since we were already dehydrated) and sat around the fireplace until we fell asleep.
We made our descent on the third day. We made great time and were able to get back to Blantyre before dark. It was by far the beautiful mountain I have ever climbed and I highly recommend it to anyone planning to travel to Malawi. The total cost of a three-day high including park fees, transportation, hut fees, food, and hiring a porter cost a grand total of $35. Not a bad deal.

Nkhata Bay

flickr 049, originally uploaded by Benjamin Long.

Nkhata Bay is a relatively big town for the region with many backpackers hostels scattered across the surrounding inlets. I stayed in a hostel called Mayoka Village that is about a five-minute walk from town situated on a cliff above Lake Malawi. The bar/restaurant is the main attraction of the hostel. It is a three-sided building with the open side facing the lake. Mayoka Village is almost too good to be true. The snorkeling gear is free to use, huge buffets every night for a whopping $4, free boat rides to secluded beaches on Weds. and numerous other activities to keep you busy during the day.
I went to Nkhata Bay to find Robert, the local agricultural agent that I met on the bus. I was able to find him after a couple of days roaming through the town asking random people if they knew him. During this process, I made several other friends in town. The Malawian people are very friendly and always willing to invite you over for a meal at their home. After I found Robert, we have a few discussions about the local agriculture but nothing too in depth. He was busy and I don’t think he wanted to drag me around with him everywhere. I liked Nkhata Bay very much, especially Mayoka Village. So, I decided to try make something out of nothing in order to stay longer. I continued to try to make contacts with little success. I stayed in Mayoka village for a total of ten days before I exhausted every option.
The highlight of my stay was definitely the people I met in town and at the hostel. I have come across some very funny names throughout Africa but Nkhata Bay takes the cake. I have met and heard of people being named after famous rappers and movie stars but the residents of Nkhata Bay have taken it to the extreme. The names include King David, Chicken Pizza, and my personal favorite, Happy Coconut (his name was Happy Pineapple before he shaved off his dread locks) I thought they were joking at first but I soon realized they were being dead serious.
A new trend for travelling through Africa is by Overlander bus. There are many different companies offering various routes throughout Africa, most starting in Nairobi and ending in Cape Town. I have mixed feeling about this method of travel because it can turn in to a traveling nightclub moving from one bar to the next without experiencing ‘Real Africa.’ On the other hand, most people would not even consider travelling through Africa and an Overlander bus is the compromise. At least, they are in Africa.
There was an Overlander bus in Nkhata Bay when I arrived and I was able to tag along on many of their tourist activities. They organized to visit a regional jail and I jumped at the opportunity. The deal was that we had to buy the inmates fish, which they only get twice a year, in exchange for our visit. Once inside the prison, we toured the jail while the inmates were all in the central courtyard being guarded. Jails can be in very bad condition in rich countries. So, picture a jail in Malawi, one of the poorest countries in the world. Needless to say, the jail was in very bad condition but the inmates were very excited to see us. We all sat down while one of the inmates stood up and described the daily life of the inmates. Then we were asked to stand, say our names and country of origin. What happened next was baffling but sadly very typical. The first girl stood up and said New Zealand, the next Australia and so on and so forth with little response from the inmates. About the fifth person in line was from the USA. She stood up said her name and country. As soon as she said USA, all the inmates jumped up from the ground yelling and clapping with excitement. They were fascinated that someone from the USA was right in front of them. This did not surprise me because I have received similar responses travelling through Africa, but I thought I would pry a little deeper into the subject. I was the last in line to introduce myself and when I stood up I asked, “what do you know of the USA?” There was a short silence and then an inmate stood up, yelled “Miami”, and proceeded to start dancing like he was in a rap video. Another inmate then yelled “50 Cent”. I then told them I was from the USA and they all cheered once again.
It was another one of those moments where I had to say, “Ok, I am in a Malawian jail right now where people are living in the worst conditions possible and all they can think about is dancing to 50 Cent song in Miami!” This is a perfect example of how the western culture, specifically American, is slowly taking over the world. I still have mixed feeling about this global culturalization taking place in Africa.

The Trek

This is the second waterfall we visited during Day 1 of our hike up Mt. Mulanje in Malawi. I went for a swim which was very cold but refreshing.

flickr 070, originally uploaded by Benjamin Long.

After the Safari, I headed south to Zanzibar. I heard a lot about the islands from backpackers in Arusha and had to check them out for myself. It was like living in a postcard. I spent one night in Stone Town and the rest of the time on the northern tip of the island in Nungwe. It was a great couple of days but I could not afford to stay long. The highlight of the visit was going fishing on a dhow. I tried to organize a fishing trip with my hotel but they wanted too much money. In my broken Swahili, I was able to negotiate with a local fisherman a much cheaper price. Once on the water, I realized that we did not have fishing poles. It turns out that instead of fishing poles the fisherman just wrap the fishing line around their feet. I did the same and I was almost pulled out of the boat. I luckily got the line off of my foot just in time before I went into the Indian Ocean. We caught three yellow-fin tuna over the course of the morning while suffering from seasickness. It was a blast.
My original plan was to head back to northern Tanzania after Zanzibar. Instead, I met a guy from Malawi that assured me I could work on a farm there. He flew back to Malawi and gave me his address. I decided to bus it to Malawi. I took the ferry to Dar es Salaam and then a bus to Mbeya the next day. I then took a combination of minibuses, taxis, and bicycles to get to the border crossing. That was an experience in itself. I crossed just above Karonga. As soon as I crossed the border into Malawi, the atmosphere was completely different. Malawi is often referred to as ‘the warm heart of Africa’ because the people are so friendly. This is the main reason that I liked Malawi so much.
I made it to Livingstonia to meet the guy I met in Zanzibar. There was not exactly a warm welcoming party ready to greet me. I stayed for a couple of days and then decided to move on. I headed south to Nkhata Bay. On the bus ride, I started a conversation with a very nice man that turned out to be the local agriculture agent in the region. I could not believe my luck. He agreed to meet with me on several occasions but I could tell he did not necessarily enjoy it. I stayed in Nkhata Bay for a couple weeks and then headed south once more. I hitchhiked to Lilongwe with a very nice Zimbabwean man. We had a very sobering conversation about the current state of Zimbabwe. The country’s currency at one time was valued higher than the British pound but now inflation is over 1000%. There is no food, running water, or electricity in most parts of this once booming country. The economy is so bad that the money actually has an expiration date. He gave me a $100,000 note that expired July, 31 2007. I finally made it further south to Blantyre. I was able to negotiate a reasonable flight to Johannesburg, but it did not leave for a week. I decided to fill the week by hiking Mt. Mulanje in southern Malawi. It was an incredible hike, which deserves its own entry.
I loved Malawi and was sad to leave. Although I did not have much luck with my project, the local people made my stay very enjoyable. I just never felt threatened or hassled like in Tanzania. For instance, when I crossed the border into Malawi, I shared a taxi with three locals. After travelling for 15 minutes, we came to our first police checkpoint. I had a very bad experience in Tanzania with a corrupt immigration officer and since then always cringed whenever I would hand over my passport. The officer simply handed me back my passport and with a smile said, “Have a nice day Mr. Long and enjoy your stay in Malawi.” That first encounter set the tone for the rest of my stay in the wonderful country.

Manyara Ranch

The Maasai sheperd takes a break at the watering hole on the way to the grazing fields for the day.

IMG_0987, originally uploaded by Benjamin Long.

I met many amazing people while living in Longido. My best friend was definitely Faraja. He was a driver, which is a very good job. I ended up eating one or two meals a day at his house. His wife, Mary, was an amazing cook and their three-year-old son, Arnold (named after the Governator himself. No really, I asked!), was always trying to make me laugh. Their house turned into my home away from home. Another good friend I met in Longido was Dr. Steven Kiruswa. He is probably the most amazing success story that I have ever personally witnessed. He is a Maasai man that grew up in the neighboring village of Engarenable. He was forced to attend school by Tanzanian mandate where he performed very well. He somehow made it to university in Nairobi and then to Regent University in Virginia Beach. He now works for AWF (African Wildlife Foundation) in Arusha. He could spend his time and money doing many things, but he prefers to help the Maasai in Longido District. He has formed an organization called Loocip to help fund Maasai children’s school fees, raise AIDS awareness and tackle many other problems in the area. Most of the time he would be late or cancel our meetings because he was so busy helping other people in their time or crisis. He is an amazing success story, and I hope to raise money for Loocip one day.
Dr. Steven helped me secure a bed at Manyara Ranch, which is funded by his company, AWF. Manyara Ranch is a progressive farming operation that is trying to combine wildlife management with a working cattle farm. It is located on a vital migratory route between two national parks, Taranguire and Lake Manyara National Parks. There was an abundance of wildlife on the ranch, often grazing side by side with the cattle. The ranch hires local Maasai men to shepherd the cattle during the day to protect the herd from predators. I spent about a week on the ranch in total. I divided my time between the livestock manager and the shepherds. Every morning we would go to each cattle kraal to vaccinate the sick cattle. They did not have the proper infrastructure to properly doctor the cattle. So, instead of fences or even smaller pens to work the cattle, the Maasai shepherds would grab hold of the sick cow’s tail and hold on for dear life. Depending on how big and/or how sick the cow was determined the duration of the fiasco. Basically, one shepherd would grab the tail, the cow would then begin to run, while the others shepherds, including myself, would try to knock the cow in its side. It turned into quite a show with all of us laughing and chasing the cows around in circles. It made for a very eventful start to the day.
I spend two days with out in the fields tending to the cattle with the Maasai. I originally planned to stay longer, but it was just too unbelievably boring. The day consisted of herding the cattle 10km to the grazing grounds, stopping by the watering hole on the way, then finding a shade tree in order to take a nap. An hour or two of this would have been fine, but the nap often took 5 to 6 hours. It was hot, dusty and I finished every book I brought with me. The highlight was on the second day when we came across a pride of lions. We were making our way to the grazing grounds when one of the shepherds tapped me on the shoulder, and pointed at three yellow dots about 150km away. I asked, in my broken Swahili, what they were, and he simply replied, “Simba”, which is Swahili for lion. That is when I had an “oh shit” moment. Meaning, I had a walking stick and I was between lions and their food, the cattle. It is when I said, “ Oh shit, what do I do now.” As we approached the lions, to my surprise, they quickly got up and moved away. I guess they have learned to fear the Maasai after being hunted by them for so long. I thought that was a good day to end my visit. I returned to Arusha the next morning: tired, smelly and worn-out. I decided to go on a two-day safari. Ngorongoro Crater was the most stunning place I have ever visited. The landscape and wildlife were simply amazing.