Time, Space and the Unknown

Maasai Configurations of Power and Providence

Paul Spencer

• Publisher: Routledge
• Year: 2004
• Print ISBN: 9780415317245
• eBook ISBN: 9781134371594
• Edition: 1
• Topic: Social Sciences
• Subtopic: Anthropology
• Index: Social Sciences

First Published in 2004. Uncertainty is an aspect of existence among the Maasai in East Africa. They take ritual precautions against mystical misfortune, especially at their ceremonial gatherings, which exude displays of confidence, and generate a sense of time, space, community, and being. Yet their performances are undermined by a concern for clandestine psychopaths who are thought to create havoc through sorcery. Normally elders seek moral explanations for erratic encounters with misfortune, viewing God as the Supreme and unknowable figure of Providence. However, sorcery lies beyond their collective wisdom, and they look for guidance from their Prophet, as a more powerful sorcerer to whom they are bound for protection. This work examines the variation of this pattern, associated with different profiles of social life and tension across the Maasai federation.

1
INTRODUCTION¹

Interest in the Maasai as nomadic pastoralists has generated an extensive literature since the mid-nineteenth century, when they dominated the hinterland in the emerging map of East Africa. This cumulative search for understanding a particularly resilient society poses a number of questions that the present volume seeks to address. The study is based on material that was collected in remoter parts, before commercial tourism and media attention raised the additional question concerning the authenticity of Maasai ritual performances in a global setting, where they are patently out of place.

There are two principal areas of concern. The first relates to the sheer variety of different accounts, reflecting changing traditions over a period of transition, and also a considerable diversity among the Maasai themselves. The need is not so much to establish some pristine and authentic version, as to discern patterns that underlie the variety in space and time. The second area of concern is the general absence of Maasai views and perceptions in this literature to match the wealth of description of their ceremonial activities. Generally, the religious beliefs of nomadic pastoralists below the Horn of Africa have aroused little interest among social anthropologists, and the Maasai are no exception. This reflects the way they present themselves in visual terms. They discuss their ritual practices avidly and in detail, but they are diffident about their myths and they do not respond easily to questions searching for explanation. Nevertheless, when pressed, they are adamant regarding the relevance of these practices for their survival as a people.

The point to stress here is not the tenacity of particular traditions or their consistency across the Maasai area. The details of ritual performance are matters for debate, and also reinterpretation as times change. The crux of the argument does not concern the details as such, but rather the human relations that are highlighted by the debates and the ritual event. These are grounded in social institutions and bear on the dynamics of community life and the involvement of different roles and points of view. Their ritual behaviour gives substance to the premise of their existence as Maasai; and any account of their ceremonies that overlooks the accompanying perceptions and beliefs misses a vital component and reduces the essence of tradition. There is a need to portray a Maasai world view and cosmology in terms that relate to their daily lives and community experience.

There have been two direct influences on my research in this area. The first was my earlier study of the Maa-speaking Samburu (1957–62). The Samburu warrior organization still persisted despite the general absence of intertribal warfare at that time. This led me to examine links between their age system–a form of stratification by age–and other aspects of their society. Polygyny was extensive among older men, and this led to a shortage of marriageable women and a prolonged bachelorhood up to the age of about thirty years for ‘warriors’ (moran, s. morani). In these times of peace, the age system could be viewed as a gerontocracy that placed moran in an extended state of social suspension; and in response to the tensions of this regime they displayed delinquent tendencies. By the time ageing youths were eventually admitted to the responsibilities of elderhood and marriage, they had acquired a stake in perpetuating the system, when they too would aspire to further wives (Spencer 1965, Samburu).

The second influence on my work was Philip Gulliver’s analysis of the Arusha (1963). The Arusha were settled agriculturalists with a distinctive pattern of land ownership vested in patrilineages that was not shared by the nomadic Maasai. However, they followed the Maasai age system, and Gulliver provided the first coherent account of this cyclical system in which men over a span of some fifteen years are grouped together to form an age-set, and are promoted together through a series of stages–age grades– rather as a class of children progress in a school. Whereas my understanding of the Samburu had focused on tensions between elders and moran as the two principal age grades, Gulliver drew attention to the dynamics of relations between successive age-sets of elders, leaving the moran politically on the sidelines. This provided a radically different type of explanation that did not appear relevant for the Samburu. Did our contrasting viewpoints perhaps reflect different phases of the cyclical age system? Or had Gulliver delved further into a model of the age system as perceived by elders, whereas my own analysis as a younger colleague had identified more closely with the moran? Or were the Arusha and Samburu simply quite different?

Both the Arusha and the Samburu were on the fringe of the Maa-speaking area, and questions raised by our alternative findings prompted me to turn my attention to the Maasai proper. At a time when others were looking beyond the Maasai to problems of development and adaptation to a new order, I set out to fill gaps in the ethnographic map of their institutions and tradition. The prospect of change in the area was of less concern to me than the need to explore contradictory aspects of Maasai society before these were obscured as they merged into a changing world. A variety of evidence suggested that much of Maasai tradition would persist. They still had warrior villages in Kenya despite attempts by successive administrations to abolish these; and the time-span of their age-sets had remained doggedly constant since pre-colonial times, despite repeated predictions of their demise. Again, there was widespread apathy towards education, which undermined attempts to enrol growing numbers of children in schools.² But increasingly, influence was slipping to Maasai who had some education and were developing networks in the wider region, pastureland was being displaced by agriculture, and herds were becoming confined to grazing schemes. These were signs of change that were creeping inwards from the borders and outwards from the growing townships. Meanwhile, dispersed over an area equivalent to Scotland and Wales combined, most Maasai lived in remoter parts where traditional pastoralism persisted and persists, adapting as necessary to new demands. Because of the resilience of this tradition, the ethnographic present is used in the earlier chapters of this volume. These refer primarily to the 1970s, but draw on material collected over a longer period. It is this sense of persistence that I wish to convey here, avoiding overuse of the past tense, which refers to topics that clearly belong to the past or concern a particular period in time (Chapters 7–10).

The terms Maa and Maasai have a variable usage throughout the region. Here, I use Maa to include peoples, such as the Samburu and Chamus in the north and the Parakuyu in the south, who cannot claim to be pastoral Maasai proper, although they belong to the Maa- (or Maasai-) speaking cluster with traditions of common origin. Besides language, these fringe Maa have similar social institutions to the Maasai proper, but their age systems are quite independent of one another and this corresponds to being separate political and ritual entities. They contrast with the core of this cluster, which consists of sixteen (territorial) tribal sections. These are indisputably Maasai in the sense of a ritually united federation that subscribe to the same age system.³ Historically, some changes of alignment between these tribal sections have taken place with circumstance, but the general notion of a Maasai federation persists. So too does the sense of continuity in a tradition that still holds the clue to the way in which Maasai respond to changing circumstance.

The Maasai recognize common bonds of clanship throughout the federation, but the configuration of clans and sub-clans varies quite strikingly. The Laitayok clan, for instance, are numerous in the south but are absent in the north; the Uasinkishu Maasai have their own quite separate set of clans; and so on. The nub of the Maasai sense of unity is not their clans, but their shared age system. Within this system, peers of the same age-set grow old together and owe one another clear obligations, extending beyond the tribal section to all Maasai proper, binding them uniquely as a people. This vital link is lacking in their relations with outlying Maa-speakers, such as the Samburu or Parakuyu. Table 1.1 summarizes differences between fringe Maa-speakers and the Maasai proper, indicating some of the variables that are discussed later. Three tribal sections that live to the west of the River Mara fit uneasily into this scheme: they are the Uasinkishu, Moitanik, and Siria. These ‘Trans-Mara’ Maasai are fully integrated into the Maasai age system, but they also have their own independent Prophets and separate histories (Waller 1984).

The progression of this volume broadly follows my own research interests from 1976, when I undertook my principal fieldwork among the Matapato, who were more or less at the geographical centre of the Maasai federation and probably as typical as any other tribal section (Spencer 1988, Matapato). Aspects of the earlier studies of the Samburu and Arusha seemed relevant to Matapato, but the Maasai age system was altogether more elaborate, and a different explanation seemed necessary to account for its persistence. The patriarchal family emerged as a key

feature in this. Unlike the Samburu, the development of relations between overbearing fathers and maturing youths could relate to the separation of moran in their own semi-autonomous warrior villages (manyat, s. manyata) as the liminal phase of an extended rite of transition. Work among the Matapato raised issues that could have a wider bearing on the Maasai as a whole, suggesting the next horizon in my research. It was with this in mind that I set out to explore the degree of variation in other tribal sections with an open-ended checklist of questions–a list that expanded as I pursued my itinerary among the Loitokitok, Purko, Loita, Kisonko, Siria, Uasinkishu, Chamus, and two Loonkidongi communities of diviners (il-oibonok).⁴

Table 1.1 Variation among Maa-speaking peoples

Regarding the pattern of variation, it should again be stressed that there is not and probably never has been just one code of practice shared by all Maasai proper. Thus the Matapato system, as the principal focus of my study, was only typical in the sense that the Matapato were no more different from any notional norm for all Maasai than any other tribal section at that time. They saw their own version as ‘true’ Maasai, but so did their neighbours. The searching question, therefore, does not concern any normative view of Maasai society, but the extent to which the degree of variation can help us understand the significance of the broader pattern.

Turning from the background of this volume to its content, Part I progresses from the Maasai construction of time and of space in the world they inhabit to a hidden other world that they insist cannot be known. The perception of time is governed by their all-embracing age system (Chapter 2). Relative status associated with age seniority dominates social life among men, and the process of ageing provides their most far-reaching experience of time. Women have a secondary role in this, but the nuances of the age system are characterized by men’s relations with women and through women, and this binds women to the system at different stages of their lives. The Maasai construction of ageing is relatively straight forward, and certainly, it is easier to grasp than other age systems in East Africa where generational position within the extended family is a complicating factor. But even so, this chapter reveals a measure of complexity that lends itself to a variety of interpretations. These may be regarded as Weberian ideal types that highlight different facets of the process of ageing and career development, varying with context and gender. Here, it is useful to distinguish between the cycle of ceremonies that punctuate the process of time, spanning about fifteen years, and the experience of those passing through this cycle as age mates or peers: members of the same age-set. They perceive it as a ‘ceremonial cycle’, but they never return to the same point, for meanwhile they have been promoted to the next stage. In effect, they experience it as an ‘ageing spiral’. As with the passing of days or seasons, a cyclical process is involved, but time moves on, and the spiral of ageing involves a time-span that is more than merely recurrent. It is unique to each age-set and only recurs a limited number of times over any lifetime, providing a shared experience for its members as individuals. While women have an essentially passive role in this process, they do have their own independent career profiles; and the chapter ends by outlining their gathering experience of the life-course, which consolidates their role. This contrasts with the tailing off among men, who in certain respects become anomalously peripheral to the system as they reach old age, placing them beyond time.

Chapter 3 considers the Maasai construction of space, working outwards from the village as the focus of relations between the sexes. This relationship had been a topic in my earlier volume on the Samburu, which noted the extent to which women were ruthlessly exploited in gerontocratic societies–a theme that was not yet topical in social anthropology. However, I was inevitably trapped on the male side, impelled by my age to tread a delicate tightrope between moranhood and elderhood. This virtually precluded trespassing on the minefield that separated the sexes, which bore on the sensitive issue of women’s clandestine affairs with moran and their former lovers. It was hardly different nearly twenty years later among the Matapato Maasai, when my age identified me as an elder. Here too, the relationship between the sexes was dogged by misgivings, and I could not appeal to trust from both suspicious elders and secretive wives. My involvement with women was essentially at the overt level that they chose to present themselves in public, complaining about the elders in general and sometimes even about their own husbands, but giving away no hostages to fortune. This inevitably introduced a gender bias in my work, and I tended to overlook the network of support shared among women.⁵ In this chapter, I have attempted to bridge the gap in my own material by reviewing a vivid case study undertaken by Ulrike von Mitzlaff (1988). This provides a very perceptive view of the women’s domain in striking contrast to my own published work. In her model, power in village life shifts between men (when they are present) and women (especially when they act in concert). Once again, these contrasting points of view clarify complementary aspects of a more complex social reality that is not dominated by either sex.

The remainder of the chapter extends to Maasai perceptions of space beyond the village. If elders are vulnerable to ridicule within the village, no one questions their higher authority and overbearing shadow in the wider scene. The uncertainties of the bushland are associated especially with moran as the principal defenders of Maasai herds, based on their manyat and conspicuously pursuing their affairs in all directions during the day. However, the bush at night holds unseen dangers; and hidden from view is the bizarre belief in the sorcerer, a secretive misanthropic spectre laying his traps. While the popular image of moranhood expresses an idealized form of masculine virility, the notion of the sorcerer may be regarded as a perverted form, a caricature of the more unscrupulous aspect of elderhood. Beyond the borders of the tribal section, a further ambiguity pervades the concept of the Maasai proper as a confederation. On the one hand, there is the prevailing notion that the sixteen tribal sections are all ‘Maasai’ in a full sense, united by a single age system. Intermarriage is unusual but widely approved in principle, and intermigration in times of necessity supports the claim that land inhabited by Maasai belongs to all Maasai. On the other hand, each tribal section independently organizes its own ceremonial cycle that concerns the development of each new age-set; and this involves considerable variation between tribal sections, who turn to different Prophets for advice. It is the territorial tribal section that provides a sense of identity and the context of community action, and local concern rarely extends beyond their borders to neighbouring Maasai. A sense of mistrust and ambiguity attaches to these borders. The stranger who is Maasai and yet unknown as a personality, poses a sinister figure, especially if he is also an age mate. At its most inclusive level, the age system poses a larger more impersonal edifice. Pride in being Maasai is tinged with a sense of awe beyond their immediate comprehension.

Maasai religious concepts are elaborated in the next three chapters and these form the core of this work. The interpretation of misfortune is considered in Chapter 4, with special reference to the general belief in the elders’ power to invoke God through their prayers–to bless and to curse. God is perceived as the all-powerful and arbitrary force of Providence, whose intentions can never be known. Only in retrospect can there be even a glimpse of some overarching pattern, linking human lapses to unexpected misfortune. Even Prophets, who are adept at probing the causes of misfortune, have no more than a dim notion of the nature of the cosmos. The flamboyance of Maasai ceremony and self-regard is offset by a sense of resignation to an unknown and unknowable future. They see themselves rather like Plato’s prisoners in a cave, ill equipped to delve into ultimate truths. The elaboration of these beliefs touches on the experience of growing up in a regime where children and wives are ‘possessions’, subordinated to the principle of patriarchal authority. Similarly, elders in their prime–the patriarchs–are no less subordinate to powerful forces that lie beyond their moral comprehension. Their piety is expressed in terms of an ultimate submission to a divine order that lies beyond the world they understand. The humility of this ignorance is linked to the widespread concern over sorcery, disavowing the hidden knowledge that this implies. The Samburu are relevant here, partly because they have a more elaborate system of beliefs, and also because this seems to correspond to certain differences between the two societies. Notably, Samburu fathers are more constrained within their local communities, engendering less concern over sorcery and a more open attitude towards ritual knowledge. Both societies have a similar attitude towards misfortune, but there is an apparent correlation between family structure and the perception of God.

The Samburu do not share the formidable reputation of the Maasai historically, and their diviners do not compare with the Loonkidongi dynasty of Prophets, who are closely associated with the earlier successes of the Maasai. Chapter 5 elaborates the ritual and quasi-regal nature of Loonkidongi patronage as intermediaries with the unknown. This gives them a shadowy doubled-edged reputation. As diviners, the Loonkidongi see themselves as a class above ordinary Maasai and keep themselves apart. They claim superior knowledge and higher standards of behaviour, and they point to the fees from their clients that bring them greater wealth. Most successful are those diviners who become Prophets. The Maasai of each tribal section have their own Loonkidongi Prophet, who is described in terms of an infallible ‘godfather’. However, deep respect for him is ...

Table of contents

• COVER PAGE
• TITLE PAGE
• COPYRIGHT PAGE
• ILLUSTRATIONS
• PREFACE
• NOTE ON ORTHOGRAPHY
• 1: INTRODUCTION
• PART I: THE BOUNDARIES OF TIME, SPACE, AND CERTAINTY
• PART II: DIVERGING MODELS IN SPACE AND VARIATION OVER TIME
• REFERENCES