When you first meet your Kenyan safari guide, there’s a good chance he or she won’t be wearing the beige or green outfits that are standard attire in Africa’s safari heartlands. Instead, they could well be dressed in traditional regalia: a scarlet shuka (shawl) and blue kikoi (sarong), perhaps, with a stack of bangles or a beaded collar and feather-trimmed headdress. Here, Indigenous traditions outweigh safari conventions and traditional colours are worn with pride.
It’s a great ice breaker. Shukas and beadwork are powerful symbols of Kenya’s heritage and diversity, and if you’re as interested in culture as in nature, you’re bound to be curious about the stories behind them. Rural communities that once stuck to Indigenous dress by default – through marginalisation, or because their elders considered Western styles undignified – now embrace their clothing culture as an expression of identity, tweaking it when new local fashions pop up. It’s not just the instantly recognisable Maasai and Samburu peoples that dress strikingly; others, including the Rendille, Turkana, Pokot and Kalenjin, have their own distinct styles too.
Since safari guides love guests to ask questions, there’s no reason why your game-drive chats shouldn’t encompass everything from jewellery (most likely homemade, by them or their female relatives) to talk of livestock. From there, you could perhaps move on to more sensitive and contemporary topics: land rights, for example, in instances where livestock herders and conservationists don’t see eye to eye. They may also have much to say on social issues, and how tourism is helping to fund community-led efforts to tackle HIV, unwanted pregnancies, FGM/C (female genital mutilation/cutting) and the societal impacts of climate change.
Meeting other rural Kenyans on a meaningful footing can be more challenging. The typical route used to be to visit cultural manyattas – show villages where rural performers recreated rituals and dances for spectators. But while some of these were mutually respectful, others felt inauthentic, transactional and borderline voyeuristic.
Fairer, more sustainable alternatives have now emerged, led by communities of semi-nomadic livestock herders and coastal or lakeshore fishermen who are keen to share and exchange aspects of their culture, past and present through hands-on encounters. These enable communities to benefit financially from safeguarding local habitats and keeping traditions alive.
Crucially, such experiences are immersive. You could take a guided botanical walk or birdwatching boat trip, learn how huts are built or how beaded jewellery is made, or join a dance. If, for example, you’re encouraged to take part in a Maasai adumu (jumping ritual), don’t hesitate: there’s something exhilarating about being wrapped in the rhythm of chanting voices and pounding feet.