I have Maasai spears. I’m obsessed with them. I love those spears. I went deep into those hills and came out with these incredible spears that look like they’re 100 years old, and like 100 lions have been slain by them over the course of multiple generations. To me, that’s worth preserving. But then again, lions will go extinct. At a certain point, you have to draw the line. And there are a lot of lines to be drawn. It’s not easy. There’s a lot about those cultures that simply isn’t appropriate for the modern world, and that no one should have to endure — like female circumcision. I would say the Maasai, Samburu and Turkana have to understand their old customs, discuss them, and modernize to whatever degree they can. You don’t need to go around lacerating your future mates. They have some very bizarre customs that are hard to understand in a modern context. Should those things still go on? I believe at a Turkana wedding, there’s always some sort of brutal fight. It is part of what they do. So what do you do?

A good example is the Eunoto [ceremony] that we filmed. The Maasai Eunoto is a classic example of a custom that’s hard to wrap your head around, but it totally should exist and should be preserved. And they’ve taken steps to preserve that area as sort of a holy area. And the Maasai have been incredibly successful at preserving their culture, by the way. They’re the most famous and they’ve done the most for cultural preservation — they’re very deliberate about it. They know it has value. I felt so lucky to witness the Eunoto — 1,000 warriors lining up, seeing that bull get slaughtered was kind of tragic and at the same time beautiful, you know? On a side note, it was like having 1,000 extras on the most difficult movie set you could possibly imagine. All they wanted to do was talk to you. If I showed you the dailies to that ceremony, you wouldn’t believe how hard it was to cut that into something where they weren’t smiling at the camera and trying directly to talk to you. You know, me and Liz were the only white people there with all these cameras, and they’re kids — they’re like high school kids — they’re 16, 17 and they want to rage. They want to party. So it was a challenge to capture the essence of how it would be if we weren’t there.

GALO: In one of the most interesting sequences, James Mpusia says, “Ten years ago, this is what was happening in the Maasailand. But if you produce another book right now, things have really changed for the better.” He then mentions an alternative rite of passage and that his kids will be getting an education instead of going into the bush to be killed by lions. There’s this powerful contrast with Amos, a junior Maasai elder, who says, “The Maasai have maintained their culture from being eroded by Western culture. But I’m also feeling worried.” It’s quite a sharp distinction.

EG: Well, it’s a complex thing, isn’t it? And it’s going to affect everybody differently. Anytime we let go of something, whatever that is, there’s an uneasiness about that. I’m not completely comfortable myself with the idea that we give up tradition and some of the more beautiful aspects — especially the creativity and that pageantry and the adornment. Things like that are also about creating a kind of individuality and I think there are some things we’re going to miss. I think we certainly miss some of those things in the society that we live in today. It’s a conundrum: how to include everyone in the world that we live in today and keep everyone safe and healthy, and give people all the opportunities we enjoy ourselves in the United States — insofar as that’s possible. I wouldn’t begrudge anyone that, and at the same time not lose these creative and powerful identities that exist.

Again, tribalism is something that is at once beautiful and at once a curse for Kenya. We don’t forget very easily the elections — the presidential election before this last one — this country plummeted into violence and that was all rooted in tribalism. So, I think, it’s about extracting what is positive and what can fill people with a sense of pride and knowing who they are, and at the same time, letting go of those aspects that are negative. And that could be anything from something like female circumcision — which serves no purpose and is an act of violence against women and which oppresses them — to just a narrowness of mind, too. That could be something to let go of. And the idea that it’s only within the tribe that things are safe, and, obviously, we have to communicate and connect with people of other groups, and be open-minded to them and remain positive. So there’s a lot to navigate and a lot to figure out. I certainly don’t have all the answers myself, and I hope that the film ignites a discussion about it. I think we succeeded in doing that. That was my idea. So far, we’ve experienced that people leave the film and they feel conflicted. And if we’ve done that, then I think we’ve succeeded in some small way. Because we’ve captured that moment where things are still out there, but we are letting go of them and we are a witness to this in the generation and time that we live in. As you say, if nothing else, just to document that.

Somebody put it to me interestingly recently, and they were actually talking about religion — they were choosing which religion to offer to their child who was growing up of two parents from different religions. Basically, they settled on one. And for the parent that I was speaking to, it didn’t really matter which one. The importance for them was the story, and that their son grows up with a story about an identity and about traditions, ceremonies and rituals. She felt that was a very important thing in life. You know, that could be part of the conversation too, couldn’t it? Because that’s what tribal identity provides — a sense of knowing who you are and where you come from. And that’s a very deep-rooted thing. In this homogenized society that we live in and especially where more and more there’s the absence of religion to provide stories and identities for people — that’s something to consider.

GALO: I know what you’re saying about this sense of shared meaning through ceremonies like the Eunoto. But the risk with that sort of community is that tribalism and warfare can be intensified by it. It can be a force-multiplier. The Last Safari discusses people who are no longer members of their communities, and who’ve become vagrants who sometimes attack travelers on the road — like you, for example.

EG: Of course, poverty is a factor to consider at all times. But in these marginalized areas where people’s roles are less defined, there is confusion and a loss of purpose, especially for young men. And that may be one reason why we see some of these things happening. If the purpose of a warrior serving a community in military service for seven years is to defend the tribe and to protect their property (meaning cattle and persons), then we have law in Kenya, we have police, and we have national military. So this service is made redundant, isn’t it? People are coming up, but they’re still living in very modest conditions out in the bush, and yet, this thing that they’re led to believe is the next stage of life and the thing that ultimately gives a man purpose — to go out and test himself and to go out and be brave, defend women and children, and protect what he has. If those opportunities are taken from him, or no longer needed, what are these guys to be doing? And that’s the time we live in, that transitional period where people have to create new roles.

(Interview continued on next page)