Among the Maasai: A Memoir by Juliet Cutler

Author:Juliet Cutler [Cutler, Juliet]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Biography & Autobiography, Personal Memoirs, Social Science, Volunteer Work, BODY; MIND & SPIRIT, Inspiration & Personal Growth
ISBN: 9781631526732
Google: EJB-DwAAQBAJ
Publisher: She Writes Press
Published: 2019-09-10T23:37:56.736540+00:00

The presence of so many important people and such a large crowd on campus meant that, as introverts, Mark and I found it more comfortable to remain outside the open-air chapel looking in, rather than to actually sit inside where the action was taking place. And, as the hours wore on, we felt grateful that we’d chosen to sit in the soft grass outside the chapel with the rest of the overflow crowd. We’d heard about, but not yet fully experienced, the epic nature of Tanzanian ceremonies. If a church service typically lasted for two or three hours, a graduation ceremony required a good four or five, and we simply couldn’t imagine sitting on the chapel’s hard, bleacher-like planks squeezed between Tanzanians who had a different understanding of personal space than we did for that length of time.

Those of us outside could still hear, and mostly see, but we were clearly of a different ilk than most of those inside the chapel. Nearly all of us were women, mostly Maasai women dressed in traditional Maasai mashuka. In my father’s Montana terms, we were the “nothing fancy, ordinary people.” Out here, there were no airs to put on or people to impress. As the smell of roasting meat floated from the kitchen toward the chapel, I realized we were also probably the group as likely to have shown up for the food as for the ceremony.

Through most of the ceremony, the women sat together in small groups fiddling with blades of grass, whispering to one another from time to time, and passing small children from lap to lap. Since the entire graduation ceremony took place in Swahili, and often difficult, ceremonial Swahili at that, I found it more interesting to watch these women than to try to understand what was going on, and I think the feeling was mutual. They were as interested in Mark and me as we were in them. We soon found ourselves wandering around, whispering greetings to them, and occasionally asking if we could take their pictures. Most of the women responded with shy, eager grins, or solemn nods, but it seemed important to all of them that the image they presented to the camera was one of self-possessed poise—no silly grins or photobombing for this bunch.

As the ceremony finally came to a close and the graduates led the gathered throng out of the chapel, the staff stood together just outside to form a receiving line for the first lady. Since I hadn’t been informed this would happen and was dragged at the last minute into the line by another staff member, I felt ill prepared as I stood with my hands sweating watching others before me first curtsy (women) or bow (men) to the extremely refined woman before shaking her hand and exchanging short pleasantries. The staff had insisted Mark participate in the receiving line too, so we stood together as we awaited the first lady.

As usual, I hoped my hair didn’t look too wild and that I didn’t have grass stains on my dress.

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