In addition to Oldupai, we make one more stop on the road to Ngorongoro, this time at a Maasai village. The villagers greet us with a song and dance in which we get to participate. The women have their dance, the men theirs, and the two groups don’t dance together. Daniel, who himself is a Maasai, knows what to do pretty well. The rest of us struggle, but still have fun. After the dance, the village chief – who speaks some English and claims to be in his seventies, although he looks younger – shows us around. We learn that the total village population is eighty-six, and that the village is built around a fenced enclosure where the livestock is kept at night. There is a small school house built out of straw, to which a teacher comes five days a week from a nearby town, at the chief’s expense, to teach the village children to read, write, do math, and even speak English. The chief is the father of over forty children (some grown up), so the schoolhouse is probably a good investment for him. The chief also shows us into one of the dung and straw huts. It’s quite dark inside, but comfortable. The chief and one of his wives tell us a bit about their lives while we sit here. We learn that it’s the responsibility of the women to build the huts, and that each woman has her own. This of course means that the chief has as many huts as he has wives – fifteen. Once out of the hut again, and out of earshot of any his wives, we ask him the obvious question of where he sleeps at night, and he tells us that he alternates, but – and we keep a straight face when he says this – that he prefers to sleep in the hut of his youngest wife.
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