Posted on 17-2-2004
New
wealth brings mixed fortunes for Masai
Jeremiah Saikong became the most popular man in any bar he
walked into. Samuel Kariangei hanged himself. Kadurie Eletiko
set up a taxi business and paid her father a dowry of 40,000
Kenyan shillings so she could marry the man of her choice.
Dol Dol in northern Kenya is a rugged, arid place where money
was once as scarce as the water that seeps up from the boreholes
in the dry season.
The area, however, has been transformed: first by the allegations
over the conduct of British soldiers who trained here, and then
by the huge sums of cash that have been paid out to communities
which sought compensation.
Some have profited from the pace of change, others have been
destroyed.
In September 2002, a group of Masai and Samburu tribesmen received
a £4.5m settlement from the Ministry of Defence for injuries
and deaths blamed on munitions left by the British army.
Thousands more bomb injury claimants came forward, and local
women alleged rape by British soldiers. Doubt has been cast
on many of the fresh claims, and last week a second group of
more than 1,000 bomb injury claimants who had sought up to £40m
settled for £500,000.
Aside from the controversy stirred up by the claims, the money
that has already been paid out has caused a startling transformation
in a traditional society.
In fact, it had begun to change before the compensation money
arrived. Most of the population live in scattered homesteads
on the hillsides, close to where their herds graze, and sleep
in a manyatta, a one-roomed hut. But some of the Masai men and
youths had already abandoned their herds of goats and cattle
to set up businesses in Dol Dol "centre", where a
few dozen tin-roofed shops and bars flank the dusty high street.
But the compensation paid to 233 men and women accelerated
the pace of change.
Kadurie Eletiko is one of the success stories. The Eletiko
family refused to speak to the Guardian - like many of the locals,
they are suspicious of foreigners and fear that the British
government plans to take the money back. But for any visitor
to the Eletikos' homestead, the change in their circumstances
is obvious.
The family's manyatta, built of saplings and dried cow dung
topped with a flat tin roof, still stands on the slope where
their goats graze, but it is abandoned now. On the crest of
the hill, dwarfing their old home, is a new, gabled, timber
house.
Mrs Eletiko, who received the equivalent of £4,300 for
a burn to her left arm, bought a four wheel drive vehicle with
the money and set up a taxi service taking locals to the nearest
large town, Nanyuki.
She built a new house, and exchanged her traditional bed of
sticks and animal skins for a modern bed.
"She has a television, and sofa sets," a neighbour
said. "She also paid her own dowry for her husband. She
gave her father 40,000 [Kenyan] shillings [£280] to buy
cattle."
Sempeyo Boboke is another of the success stories. Mrs Boboke,
whose son died, received more than £20,000. She too bought
a four wheel drive and set up a taxi business. She built her
family a new house, and bought a plot of farmland in Nanyuki.
The family were away when the Guardian called at their home
but, again, the transformation was obvious.
The Bobokes have demolished their manyatta, and built a timber
house next to it. In the living room, decorated with a kitsch
poster of kittens and a ram's skull hanging from a nail, the
family's maid sat dandling their youngest child.
The maid, Elizabeth Nosip, said: "They have employed me
to clean the house, fetch firewood and water, and to take their
little girl to school. They are rich now. The money has been
good for them."
It may not be a coincidence that in two cases where the money
was well spent, it was given to women. James Legei, manager
of a community group, Osiligi, said: "The women here are
more considerate. They are the ones who have to care for the
children."
When Jeremiah Saikong received his share of the compensation,
just over £10,000, he lost all self-control. Nuru Abdi,
a local man, said: "He was drinking a lot of alcohol. When
he met people, he didn't want to talk, he just gave them money.
When he was out he would buy drinks for the whole bar."
The money had all but disappeared when his wife intervened.
Aided by Osiligi, she took her husband to court and had the
equivalent of £1,600 set aside to educate their children.
For Samuel Kariangei, the money appears to have been fatal.
Like Mr Saikong, the opportunity to buy alcohol in seemingly
unlimited quantities was too much of a temptation. Mr Kariangei
hanged himself recently, after drinking his way through more
than £5,000.
A police spokesman in Nanyuki confirmed reports that the man
had hanged himself after finding his bank account empty. "Police
in Dol Dol say they have never seen this man sober," he
added. As well as being blamed for an outbreak of alcoholism
among the Masai, the "bomb money" has also been said
to bring bad luck. Locals spoke of one man who received his
compensation, then died soon after in a bus crash - in which
every other passenger was unhurt.
"Maybe the mzungu [white man] has cursed the money,"
Mr Abdi said.
Conmen have been attracted to Dol Dol too; in one case, a man
was sold a Land Rover for more than twice its value, while another
tribesman was cheated into paying for a car he never received.
It was expected that a cattle-herding society would have difficulty
with the influx of such vast sums. "We tried to prepare
them to receive this amount of money," said Mr Legei, of
Osiligi. "We also tried to warn them of the dangers.
"Many of them did not know how much 1m Kenyan shillings
is. They had never handled large sums of money before."
The Masai were given advice on how to open bank accounts, and
investment experts from a US bank gave seminars on how to deal
with the windfalls.
"The thing that people knew was buying cattle," Mr
Legei said. "Also, some of them were thinking of buying
land. We gave them some alternatives. We ex plained what shares
were. They said they might try that - but of course people fear
to go into what they are not sure of."
Since the Europeans first came to east Africa, the Masai have
been romanticised for their warrior traditions, striking looks,
and simple lifestyle. Among the Masai themselves, however, there
are many who want to adapt to the modern world, and have now
been helped by British taxpayers' money to transform their lives.
But there are also many sad victims of a collision between
the western way of rendering justice through money, and a delicately
balanced, traditional society.
|