Richard Rieckenberg Biography

We met two young and very gregarious Maasai warriors as we walked to the Mto wa Mbu marketplace for the monthly sale of goats and cattle. They asked where we are from.

"My brother, Ron, is from Moshi. I am from the United States."

Blank looks.

"U.S.A.?", I say.

Still a little bit fuzzy.

"Barack Obama".

Yes, now vigorous shakes of the head and smiles of approval. "Obama", they repeat. Everyone in southeast Africa knows Obama.

I ask the shorter young man if he is married. No, he says, but one day. I think perhaps it is because he cannot afford a wife. He senses this and assures me that he is actually quite wealthy.

"I have 175 cattle and 342 goats", he says with pride. I know that wealth among the Maasai is measured exclusively in cattle and goats. I also know that a bride costs between 15 and 20 cattle, perhaps a little more if she is light-skinned.

"I have no cattle or goats but I have two cars".

He whistles softly under his breath. We are now each convinced that we are having a conversation between men of wealth.

I also notice that he is rather heavily armed for this short trip. He carries two staffs and a short sword. I know that the Maasai do not like other tribes but that the government of Tanzania has been successful in stopping the wars for many years.

"Why are you carrying weapons? Do you expect a fight?"

"No", he assures me, "There are no more fights". Then he gives me a rather wicked grin and his eyes twinkled. "Of course, there are still sometimes misunderstandings".

I know beyond any doubt that this strong and wiry warrior, in his prime and full of energy, would welcome an occasional 'misunderstanding'.

Our translator, Bruno, who was not a Maasai but I think was trying to gain some credibility among these young men, offered to demonstrate how the Maasai fight with a staff. After a quick conversation, he borrowed the taller warrior's staff and squared off against the shorter warrior, holding the staff with both hands about shoulder width apart. "This is how to fight", he said, and gestured the warrior to attack. My warrior friend chuckled and then, in two lightning quick motions rapped Bruno's knuckles on each hand. Bruno yelped and dropped the staff. "This is not how we fight," said the young warrior.

Of course the taller warrior could not let that challenge rest like this. He picked up his staff and said "I will show you how we fight". An increasingly enthusiastic and vicious demonstration of thrusts, swings and parries ensued, the two combatants barely escaping harm while whooping in joy and encouraging each other. Finally they stopped, regained their breath and congratulated each other. Then they walked on.

I talked with the shorter warrior about a few more inconsequential things. I grew more impressed with his intelligence, his charisma and his warrior spirit. I noticed that he had two identical scars of perfect circles on each of his cheeks. I asked him about them.

"These are from my father."

"How did he do that?"

"He gave them to me as a small child with a hot iron. I was branded here so that the tears would make the pain worse. This is how I learned not to cry."

It wasn't until I was back in New Mexico thinking about this young Maasai warrior's story that it occurred to me to look closely at the pictures of the Maasai children that I had taken. As I magnified the images of these children I could see the same round brands on their cheeks, even among the youngest of them. This is how they each had learned about the futility of tears in the world of the Maasai.

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