The Maasai Spirit

This series of images was taken while on assignment in the Maasai Mara Game Reserve in Kenya.

As we were leaving the reserve one day our driver suggested we stop at a nearby Maasai village. I thought it would be just a quick stop and a chance to pickup some handmade souvenirs.

Knowing that the Maasai depend on tourists to supplement their subsistence farming, I didn't expect the warmth of our welcome and the genuine dialogue I would have with the chief. He introduced us to the village, showing every aspect of their daily life. Speaking passionately about the realities confronting the Maasai people and the hard choices they must make in order to preserve their cultural identity — from environmental issues threatening their homes and grazing lands, exposure to tourists and the lure of modern life. 

He was an erudite speaker, having mastered English and more than 6 African languages. This worldliness empowered him to make mindful decisions governing the collective future of his tribe. All the while recognizing the hypocrisies of a developed worlds existence. In his village no one went hungry, loneliness and depression did not exist and the elders were a revered and integral part of the social dynamic.

He encouraged me to take photos, wanting to share their simple but dignified life, beautiful aesthetic and overt happiness. I hope these images honor the chief's wishes and convey some of the Maasai spirit.

Julien Campeil

Julien is an Australian born photographer living in New York. His work has appeared in many publications worldwide including Vogue, GQ and Conde Nast Traveler.

You can view more of his work online at: www.juliencapmeil.com

For print purchases Email: info@juliencapmeil.com

The Women of Kenya’s Lake Victoria Reject “Fish for Sex”

In a small fishing village on the shores of Lake Victoria, women are breaking the gender roles that dominate the area. A cooperative called No Sex For Fish brings women together to source fish for themselves, without trading their bodies.

A woman carrying a bucket by her boat in Lake Victoria. CC BY-NC-ND 2.0

“No Sex For Fish” is a bold name. It summarizes what the women of Nyamare have fought for. In the villages along Lake Victoria in Kenya, the fishing industry is split by gender: men do the fishing, women do the selling. Due to overfishing and environmental issues, the lake’s fish population ran low in the 1970s and the fisherman couldn’t catch enough product to supply all of the women. 

In a practice the locals refer to as “jaboya,” the men offered the women a trade-off: sex for fish. The women were left without a choice. For many, their families depend on the money they earn from selling fish. To sustain their loved ones and send their children to school, the women complied. After almost 40 years of this routine, the “jaboya” practice went from exploitative to dangerous. Studies have estimated the prevalence of HIV fishing communities around Lake Victoria to be between 21 and 30 percent. 

Due to the lack of economic opportunities in the area, the women of Nyamare found themselves in a situation familiar to women across the globe: a position of powerlessness in a system controlled by men. Then in 2011, a woman named ​​Justine Adhiambo Obura led the No Sex For Fish cooperative. The women obtained 30 boats through grants from PEPFAR, USAID and the World Connect charity. 

In a testimonial to the World Connect Charity, Justine said, “We are very thankful for this program; it has allowed us to become businesswomen and to control our own finances. The men have to ask us for the money. Though the business has many challenges, we keep working.” With access to their own boats, the women hired men to fish for them. Alice Akinyi Amonde told NPR she’d earn about 50 dollars a day when things were going well, but now she’s lucky if she makes 3 dollars.

In March 2020, after months of heavy rain, the water levels in Lake Victoria climbed to the highest degree in decades. The floods swamped farmland, engulfed homes and displaced thousands of people. Unfortunately, this timing coincided with the emergence of the COVID-19 pandemic, and economic activity was put at a standstill. With no homes, no boats and no farmland, the community has been left in limbo. 

The organized fishing trade that once supported the families along Lake Victoria’s shore has collapsed. In interviews with NPR in September 2020, the women from No Sex For Fish said that they worry that, even if fishing were to become possible again, the practice of trading sex would re-emerge due to the difficulty imposed by the weed-clogged lake. They also said that, while they want to go back to the trade, they’ll need financial support. 

Ruth Odinga, the Kisumu County director of special programs, told NPR that “when such tragedies occur, the government only assists to save lives and not to make life comfortable for them.” With minimal assistance from the government, these women are looking for other ways to earn a living. Despite the challenges they’ve faced, the women of Nyamare are still hopeful for the future.

Claire Redden

Claire is a freelance journalist from Chicago, where she received her Bachelor’s of Communications from the University of Illinois. While living and studying in Paris, Claire wrote for the magazine, Toute La Culture. As a freelancer she contributes to travel guides for the up and coming brand, Thalby. She plans to take her skills to London, where she’ll pursue her Master’s of Arts and Lifestyle Journalism at the University of Arts, London College of Communication.

Amazing Styles of African Architecture

Africa is home to many beautiful styles of architecture, each shaped by the region and time when it developed. 

The Great Mosque of Djenné, Mali. UN Mission in Mali. CC BY-NC-SA 2.0 

While most people are familiar with European styles of architecture, such as  Gothic and Renaissance, African architecture is not as frequently showcased. Other than the Pyramids at Giza, Africa’s architectural marvels are relatively little-known. International media often overlooks the cultural, historical and societal diversity of Africa in favor of news that portrays the continent in a negative light. There are a wide variety of architectural styles across Africa, each influenced by their environment and the time when they developed. Below are just three examples of Africa’s many unique architectural styles: Sudano-Sahelian, Afro-Modernist and Swahili. 

1. Sudano-Sahelian 

Sudano-Sahelian architecture is characterized by the use of adobe, mud bricks and wooden-log support beams that jut out of the walls, as well as grassy materials like thatch and reeds which are used for roofing, reinforcement and insulation. The name Sudano-Sahelian refers to the indigenous peoples of the Sahel region in Africa—which extends from modern-day Senegal on the West Coast to Eritrea on the East Coast—and the Sudanian Savanna, just south of the Sahel. The Sudano-Sahel region is semi-arid, with an environment that transitions from the Saraha in the north to tropical deciduous forests in the south; there are both trees and wide, grassy plateaus. The earth is a major building resource in the region, which led to the development of the area’s distinct adobe architecture around 250 B.C. Today, ancient Sudano-Sahelian architecture remains a major influence on many contemporary African architects, such as  Francis Kéré, who wants to showcase African traditions in his architectural projects. 

The courtyard of The Great Mosque at Djenné. Johannes Zielcke. CC BY-NC-ND 2.0 

One of the most impressive examples of Sudano-Sahelian architecture is The Great Mosque of Djenné in Djenné, Mali. While the mosque was constructed in 1907, there have been a number of mosques on this same site since the 13th century, all built in the traditional Sudano-Sahelian style. 

Ghana’s Independence Square. CC Chapman. CC BY-NC-ND 2.0 

2. Afro-Modernism

Afro-Modernism refers to Africa’s post-colonial experimental architecture boom of the 1960s and 1970s. Thirty-two  African nations declared their independence from European colonial powers between 1957 and 1966. New elected governments ushered in an era of public works projects, including university campuses, banks, hotels and even ceremonial spaces like Ghana’s Independence Square. The architecture of the era largely used concrete, as it was more easily cooled than other materials—a necessity in hot, equatorial climates. Afro-Modernism draws on European styles of architecture; many buildings were designed by European architects. African influence is clearly present as well, though, and African architects like Samuel Opare Larbi were crucial to the movement. Staples of Afro-Modernism include bold shapes and the combination of traditional building materials like adobe with modern materials, such as concrete and steel. 

Some examples of Afro-Modernism include the Kenyatta International Conference Centre in Nairobi, Kenya which has a lily-shaped auditorium; the FIDAK exhibition center in Dakar, Senegal, which is made up of  a number of triangular prisms; and some buildings at the University of Zambia in Lusaka, Zambia, which has various open-air galleries and exposed staircases. 

3. Swahili 

Monumental stone structures dating back to at least the 13th century populate the Swahili Coast, an 1,800-mile stretch along the Indian Ocean in modern-day Tanzania and Kenya. The area is rich with coral limestone, which became a crucial building material for the indigenous Swahili people. 

A close-up of Swahili woodwork. Konstantinos Dafalias. CC BY 2.0

The stone architecture evolved over time to include intricate decorative elements, such as carved door frames and windows with natural and geometric designs. The carvings in Swahili  architecture date back to the 17th century, with the earliest known example being from 1694. During the 18th and 19th centuries, the practice of stone and wood carving grew more widespread. Carvers drew influence from architecture and art overseas, including neo-Gothic, British Raj and Indian Gujarati styles. 

A carved stone door in Lamu, Kenya. Justin Clements. CC BY 2.0 

 Kenya’s Lamu Old Town is the oldest and most well-preserved Swahili settlement on the Swahili Coast. Lamu Old Town is constructed from coral limestone and mangrove timber and has been continuously inhabited for over 700 years. The Stone Town of Zanzibar, on Unguja Island, is another excellent example of Swahili architecture, especially the blending of African, Arabian, Indian and European influences. Both of these towns have been designated as UNESCO World Heritage Sites. 

Sudano-Sahelian, Afro-Modernist and Swahili architecture are only three of Africa’s wide variety of architectural styles. Others include Somali, Afro-Federal, Nigerian and Ethiopian. For more stunning pictures of African architecture, visit this Twitter thread. 

Rachel Lynch

Rachel is a student at Sarah Lawrence College in Bronxville, NY currently taking a semester off. She plans to study Writing and Child Development. Rachel loves to travel and is inspired by the places she’s been and everywhere she wants to go. She hopes to educate people on social justice issues and the history and culture of travel destinations through her writing.

COVID-19 Further Complicates Kenya’s Health Care System

Kenya is facing a double burden of communicable and noncommunicable diseases. Clustering of infections, such as HIV and tuberculosis, and noncommunicable diseases, such as diabetes and high blood pressure, renders Kenyans vulnerable to COVID-19. This has pressured an already overstretched health care system.

Hospital entrance sign in Kenya’s Rift Valley province. Melanie K Reed. CC BY-NC-ND 2.0

In mid-March, shortly after Kenya’s first confirmed COVID-19 case, the word “corona” began circulating around western Kenya’s villages. Young people used the word as a novelty, and the overall population remained preoccupied with existing illnesses. “This is a disease for whites,” said Sylvanus, a local father of seven. When calling after white people on the street, children replaced their traditional “mzungu!” (white person) with “coronavirus!” At this point, Europe was the pandemic’s epicenter. Kenyans felt that this foreign virus was removed from their world. 

However, Kenya’s high prevalence of preexisting health conditions renders a significant portion of the population immunocompromised and therefore vulnerable to the coronavirus. In a country experiencing health issues such as HIV, tuberculosis, diabetes and malaria, the pandemic has posed a threat to an already fragmented health care system. Although less than 4% of Africa’s population is over the age of 65, countries such as Kenya have seen high coronavirus mortality rates. 

Global evidence shows that people with underlying medical conditions are at a greater risk from COVID-19. In 2019, half a million Kenyans were living with diabetes, and over half of accounted deaths were associated with noncommunicable diseases. Currently, Kenya’s health care system is structured to manage individual diseases, rather than multiple ones. Because patients frequently carry more than one health condition, the health care system has been overstretched and inadequate. HIV, tuberculosis and malaria treatments are easily accessible, but noncommunicable diseases such as diabetes and cancer often go undiagnosed, and care is costly. The COVID-19 pandemic has exacerbated these shortcomings, as social distancing restrictions prevent Kenyans from accessing medical resources, and a surge of coronavirus cases imposes a double burden of disease. Additionally, front-line workers with undiagnosed, chronic illnesses have critically compromised their health, and hospitals have dealt with equipment shortages. 

Transcontinental travel has heavily contributed to the increase in COVID-19 cases across Africa. In order to minimize Kenya’s number of infections, President Uhuru Kenyatta stopped all flights from Europe. Kenyatta also imposed a national curfew and restricted movement between populated areas. Domestically, middle-class, urban dwellers have carried the virus into rural areas. On Kenyan television, villagers have urged educated, urban residents to remain in the city, instead of threatening the lives of others. 

In African countries, lockdowns are nearly impossible to implement because they would spur social and economic crises. Many people rely on cash earned daily to sustain themselves and their families. A strict lockdown would result in poverty and starvation. Kinship systems also play a crucial role in social welfare, as relatives care for one another. For people already barely getting by, cutting these social ties would be dangerous. Finally, a lockdown would interrupt the supply chains of essential drugs, preventing access to tuberculosis, HIV and malaria treatments. 

According to several African presidents, developed countries are failing to fulfill their pledges of financial support and debt relief. Throughout the pandemic, outside aid has not met the continent’s needs. While wealthy countries in the global north have funneled trillions of dollars into their own stimulus packages and health initiatives, the global south cannot afford such measures. With limited testing capacity, Africa has not confirmed many of the world’s COVID-19 cases, but the continent has been grossly affected by the economic crisis and global trade disruptions. Furthermore, the global shortage of testing kits, hygienic material and personal protective equipment has left developed countries vying for their own supplies, without consideration for underdeveloped nations. 

Anna Wood

is an Anthropology major and Global Health/Spanish double minor at Middlebury College. As an anthropology major with a focus in public health, she studies the intersection of health and sociocultural elements. She is also passionate about food systems and endurance sports.

Visions of Kenya

A long time went by before I was able to understand this trip. Sometimes, the present is not understood until it becomes the past. Kenya belongs to a continent of origins, remote and distant, and for now, for better or worse, many of its vast and beautiful rural areas remain far from the globalised world.

In a matter of two weeks I had organised everything. Bought the tickets from Buenos Aires to Mombasa, got the necessary vaccines, packed my things and let my friends know I was leaving. “I’m going to Kenya for a month, alone, just my backpack and camera, nothing else.” It was a long flight to Mombasa. I was very tired and somewhat nervous about it all. At the airport in Mombasa the image of a rhino gave me goosebumps. I had arrived.

— Mombasa —

The first morning I was woken by the heat and the unrelenting racket made by the many crows that inhabit Mombasa. I looked outside the window to see Africa for the first time: bonfire smoke on the sides of the street, women selling fresh fruit right outside our building, next to them, I saw other women with beautiful braids in their hair, and a little further away, a man selling plants. Here, life takes place on the streets.

He was selling onions on the side of the road to Nairobi

I enjoy travelling alone and getting to know different cultures, in the most simple and genuine way possible, simply by being there, and merely observing. Trying not to alter what I see, to be inconspicuous. But in Mombasa, I was noticed right away. I am a white Argentinian, in a city where almost everyone is black. It was impossible to remain unseen.

Sunday morning is a social time for families at the public beach

The first few days were filled with nervousness and anxiety. I was alone in a place completely different to my own, full of tension and expectations about what the trip might become. Was I going to be able to adapt to Africa? I just wanted to let go, come to know the locals, let down my resistance, and give myself up to whatever had to happen.
 

Eddie lives inside a garbage container in Mombasa. The day I left Kenya, I gave Eddie all of my clothes.

Two days went by and I decided it was time to get out of the city. Venturing into the more rural areas of Kenya would be better than staying in Mombasa. Leaving my big backpack behind, I grabbed my camera, my flip flops, swimming trunks, and my kikoy — a traditional man’s wraparound worn on the Swahili coast of East Africa, especially in Kenya. It protected me from the sun and from the stares too. I took a tuk-tuk to the south of town, then a ferry, and then a three-hour matatu — one of Kenya’s colourful buses. My destination was Wasini Island, a small island in the south, where people usually snorkel for a few hours and then leave. I wanted to stay, at least for a few days.

School children on the road from Mombasa to Kilifi / She was sleeping in the matatu along the way.

I was greeted by Abdullah, who was surprised to meet a foreigner who wanted to stay longer than a few hours. I got on a small boat and crossed the island with two guys who were carrying huge machine guns, which they used to absentmindedly scratch their feet and faces — I had never seen such big weapons. 
 

Baobab tree lit up at night

— Wasini —

Wasini is a coral rock island that during its hey-day was a popular summer destination for retired and wealthy Europeans who wanted to enjoy the heat and beaches of Kenya. The day I arrived, there was just one dutchman and me, and the rest of the island was a small fisherman’s village. Abdullah cooked a fish for me with great care, and later made me visit the “tourist attractions,” which meant very little to me.

 

Coral stones in the Indian Ocean

I met someone who said he would take me over to the other side of the island along a path that would pass through the mangroves. I told him I had very little to tip him with, as I had left all my money in Mombasa. He gently insisted on taking me and I followed him. We walked through the island for a long time and I started to worry, thinking about where this stranger was actually taking me. The sun had started to set and as is common in many places in Kenya, there was no electric light.
 

We were crossing the path with this guy, while a fisherman was preparing his bait. I asked to take a picture of him, and he accepted.

We kept on walking until we finally reached the other side of the island. The mangrove trees continued all the way into the sea, and it was a very beautiful sight. I calmly took a breath, my guide had not deceived me. At that moment I felt that if I had managed to get to such a remote place with a complete stranger, then it meant that the rest of my trip would turn out alright. It was a feeling I had. Complete trust.
 

Among the mangroves

— Kilifi —

I spent a few days in Wasini and then returned to Mombasa to continue northwards along the coast, towards Kilifi. In Kilifi there was a very impressive hostel, but when I entered I had the feeling of being out from what I have been seeing. Luckily, I decided to walk towards the beach, where I found a beautiful sunset.
 

Little sisters playing together in a tree near their home.

The beach was deserted. It was actually an estuary, very serene. I loved rural Kenya, so far away from the cities. As I sat with my camera I saw a kid walking in the distance. As he approached me I waved, then he waved back and continued to walk. A few hours later, the kid returned and I went over to have a chat. He responded by asking me if I knew how to hunt crabs. His name was Buda.
 

Portrait of Buda

We became friends and I met all of his brothers and sisters as well. They were many, and lived on the coast with their aunts and cousins. Most families in Kenya live with their extended family, and the women are in charge of the houses. Men are absent most of the time, often spending time with friends, away from their homes.
 

Full of joy in the ocean / Fishermen and family in the early morning

I quickly became very fond of Buda and his siblings, and they became fond of me. Every time I came down to the beach, they would arrive to greet me. I spent whole days on the beach, sometimes helping them gather wood for making fires, or finding things their mother had asked for — I learnt a lot about their culture and way of life, which was not always easy. Buda and Nuzrah were the eldest siblings and spoke better English. They taught me a lot of words in Swahili, their native tongue.
 

Portrait of Nuzrah

One of the days we spent together I brought them a football, a water gun and a jumping rope. We played with them, they taught me beach games, and every now and then we would all go for a swim. It was with great grief that I said goodbye to these children, as I had to continue travelling towards the west of the country. They stayed with me until I left, and their mother also came to say goodbye.
 

Portrait of Buda / Jumping rope / Portrait of Mwanaisha

— Amboselli —

I took a tuk-tuk back to Mombasa, thinking about everything I was experiencing. It felt so powerful and different, making me reflect on my own life, and how grateful I was for the opportunity to travel. The following dayay I left for Amboselli National Park. Enormous and open, there were no fences around it. Animals are not easy to see. You might spend a whole day walking around and only encounter a few zebras.

Morning of the Zebras

But the immensity and beauty of the landscape was truly dazzling to me, sometimes reminding me of my native Patagonia, similarly wild and empty in its own way. I also thought about the devastation humans have caused to the natural environment, and the complex challenges local and international communities face as they attempt to tackle and reverse this.
 

Afternoon of the elephants

I spent my whole childhood fascinated by documentaries on Animal Planet, or Discovery Channel. I could not quite believe I was there, in these vast landscapes. The animals were so big, so strong. They had very little to do with the image I had of elephants in zoos or television. And the trees, they were so magical, I really have no words to describe them.
 

Masai walking in the early morning / Just a beautiful tree, in my first moments in the park

A long time went by before I was able to understand this trip. Sometimes, the present is not understood until it becomes the past. 

When I travel, I seek to explore places that will surprise and challenge me, and from that surprise create beautiful experiences and photographic visions of what I have witnessed. Kenya belongs to a continent of origins, remote and distant, and for now, for better or worse, many of its vast rural areas remain far from the globalised world.
 

Early morning at Tsavo. There is always magic in the first hours of the day.

 

THIS ARTICLE WAS ORIGINALLY PUBLISHED ON MAPTIA.

 

FRAN PROVEDO

Fran Provedo is a photographer and Architect from Argentina. Passionate about nature, and what is invisible in it.