Masai Business Acumen

I proudly clutch my Masai dance stick. I earned it. I danced with the warriors. I also paid for it.

Masai greet us warmly after young main skillfully separates dollars and shillings, has a Canadian tribe, and counted the money, which then disappears under his red blanket. They have pockets under there?

warriors dance for us, show jumping competition stems from the high mode, with his long thin legs, wire opruge.Ljudi from our group were invited to natječu.Ratnik who jumps up to a maximum of djevojaka.Kanadski judged the winner is a woman who said he has no girlfriend dozvoljeno.Masai say let alone girls, which is a cow? Do you have cows in Canada? We do. Good. All the cows belong to Masai. They will be coming to Canada, said his cows. All the cows belong to Masai.

I had to put dance and invited to join them. I do my best to imitate the steps and have it right, because now I'm wearing a hat lion skin. We circle under the blazing sun and the other Canadian tribes are invited to join in. warriors smile, shake hands, and tell us how to dance clubs.
We watch a demonstration of fire starting. "We do not buy the game," Warrior says. "They are too dangerous. Children can start a fire and burn compound. Starting fires our way is very difficult and children can not do it ."

It's hard. This includes bats and spinning wooden stick and a lot of debate, and the supply of fresh sticks and spinning and more discussion, but in the end they were successful. We welcome and cheer.

We have demonstrated in their homes, back to the open, and suddenly we are negotiating the price for the dance clubs. Clever, clever Masai. We danced with the warriors. We are not about to get our dance clubs. We pay. Have to admire their business acumen.

Masai women and girls, some with babies on their backs, make the line before us and sing a song of welcome. We line up against them and they go, greeting us one by one with the palm of the hand gesture.

last third of the girl with sparkling eyes and a warm happy smile. She grabbed my hand and lead me in their line. I see my fellow Canadians like ran in a circle, and we are dancing again.

"Your name?" A young girl asks when the song ends. She is lively and beautiful despite the shabbiness of her clothes, sores around the eyes, and flies hovering.

"Darlene," I say. "What your name ?"

"Me Mary," she said, clasp hands in both hers, and led me to the village market behind spoja.Polukrugu tables made ​​of sticks attacked together and were filled with cow dung covered with goods for sale. Mary brings me to her desk.

can raise beaded bracelets. Before you can blink, like Mary whips off her hand and placed it on my wrist zglob.Dar? What are you darling, I think. Seconds later, my wrists are adorned with bracelets.

"What?" I wonder. Mary has appeared on every bracelet names its price five dolara.Stari from her hand-the most expensive gift. It wants ten dollars to this one.

If I had not learned a lesson from my dance place? "Mary," I protest.

"My friend," she says with a sparkle in her eye. Again she takes my hand in both hers. We negotiate. Mary smiles, call me her friend again and again, and not once let go of my hand and it offers more and more bracelets. It's on me.

I believe, twenty-five dollars for a bracelet. She wants to twenty five. "Mary, my friend," I protest again. Maybe it will loosen. After all, we're friends. She laughs. Her eyes twinkle. How can I resist? I pay twenty-five dollars. I buy pendants, necklaces, bracelets anymore. Seventy-five dollars later, the Warriors have nothing on Mary, my friend, Masai-I say my last goodbye. Mary waves wildly behind her table. I go unwillingly, pockets bulging with my purchases, dancing stick clutched in her hand, and a warm glow in my heart.