The return of the Maasai

By Lillian Aluanga

Oloriani, that is the name given to a Maasai enclave carved out of a section of Kamukunji Grounds in Nairobi’s Shaurimoyo area.

Though far from the vast plains of Oloitoktok, Narok, Laikipia, Magadi and neighbouring Arusha, Oloriani — Maasai for ‘a place of gathering’ — is a home away from home for more than 100 pastoralists.

For the past 15 years, the group has waged a two-pronged battle: To eke a living out of selling herbal medicine and handicrafts, and retain their culture in the midst of a bustling 21st century city.

"We know this isn’t home, but we are here to earn a living because our herds have been wiped out by drought over the years," says Marias ole Mokonde, a Namanga resident, who sells herbal medicine at the grounds.

At Oloriani, there are no shields or spears, no herds to nibble on the blooming blades of grass, nor mud and wattle huts to shield one from the sun. There are neither paths through which women returning from the fields trudge with their bundles of firewood, nor the familiar tinkling of bells as herds return home after grazing.

Sections of the Oloriani village in Shaurimoyo, Nairobi.

Mr Marias ole Mokonde during the interview. Photos: Jennipher Wachie/Standard

Instead, there are only tiny polythene-covered stalls, stacked with jars of coloured liquids, roots, tree barks, ground leaves and herbs sold by the roadside as medicine.

But in many ways, Oloriani’s occupants are trying to retain some semblance of Maasai village life on the banks of Nairobi River.

Clad in shukas, colourfully beaded engotoo (necklaces), and elaborate mbenet (earrings), the group of traders sticks out amid jua kali sheds, 1930s style blocks in Shaurimoyo estate, and the high-rise flats springing up in pockets of the Majengo slum.

A day begins at 5am in Oloriani. They congregate at the grounds for blessings before setting out for different parts of the city such as Githurai, Kayole, Embakasi and Eastleigh.

The lifestyle

Moving in pairs or groups of three or four, the men set out to hawk mitumba (secondhand) clothes, herbal medicine and handicrafts, while others report to their stations in residential areas and factories where they work as watchmen.

At lunchtime those left at the stalls group themselves into small clusters, roast meat in nearby butcheries, and wash it down with milk bought from kiosks — the closest they can get to a diet they are familiar with.

Inside one of the stalls, Monica Solomon is stitching tiny beads onto a leather strap. A client has placed an order for a multi-coloured belt, decorated with flags from different countries.

"It will take me about a week to finish," she says, of the belt that fetches Sh1,200.

At a nearby stand, Maria Taiko fumbles with the lid of a tin filled with strands of tree bark and an ashy concoction.

"This treats infertility in women," she says. Although there is no client to vouch for the efficacy of the treatment, Taiko swears it works miracles in just two months.

At Oloriani, one is spoilt for choice with herbal concoctions promising to cure all sorts of ailments, ranging from diabetes, stomach upsets, toothache, typhoid, malaria and impotence.

Although prices range between Sh100 to Sh600, there are other ‘special treatments’ that are much higher priced.

Drug for all diseases

Taiko sweeps over jars of olkiloriti, segete, kokola, sokowe and ngamai, explaining the use of each drug, including one that boosts appetite and prolongs life for HIV patients.

"This one is expensive but it works. A three-month dose costs Sh15,000 and I have had many customers asking for it," she says.

Other herbal remedies in high demand include anti-malaria and typhoid drugs.

Administration of most medicine is simple: Boil the barks and herbs in water, and then take for a couple of days or months.

But it is the effects of city life on a jealously guarded culture that members of Oloriani fear most.

Indiscipline is not tolerated in the Oloriani community. Here misconduct attracts punishment. In this community indiscipline ranges from ‘refusing to visit one’s family’ to defaulting on loans, excessive drinking, womanising and failure to keep stalls clean.

Failure to visit one’s family every two months, coupled with womanising and excessive drinking attracts no less than 70 lashes, while persistently refusing to settle debts could land one a night or two at the Shaurimoyo Police Station.

"We don’t want anyone to get lost in the evil ways of the city and forget their families back home. After the lashing some people have changed and become more responsible. They have begun visiting their families more often and have even bought several cows and goats from their earnings," says Mokonde.

At Oloriani, there are no excuses for failing to travel to the village. Should one claim inability to pay fare to home, members contribute for him and bundle him into a bus.

To maintain order, special council meetings are held regularly at the Kamukunji Grounds where disputes are resolved and resolutions passed.

Mokonde recalls how Oloriani’s ‘village’ has grown over the last 15 years. "There were only two of us then and we sold herbal medicine whose ingredients we got from Amboseli, Ngong and Narok forests," says Mokonde.

Community life

Today, Oloriani averages between 70-100 traders daily, specialising in herbal products.

The traders, Mokonde says, should not be viewed as having abandoned the pastoralist lifestyle but rather one that is seeking alternatives to survive.

And just as pastoralists count their herds when they return home from pasture, a headcount is conducted at Oloriani every evening to ensure the safe return of members from different parts of the city.

"We live as a community here. We move in twos or threes so should there be a problem, word will always get back to those at the camp," says Mokonde.