Memoir set in Kenya (“captive of the Masai World”)

9th April 2014

The White Masai by Corinne Hofmann, memoir set in Kenya

A memoir set in Kenya that will evoke a strong response in the reader.

Guaranteed!

That is probably a bit of a daring thing to say, I feel, but it is one of the few books I have read where I have experienced a medley of emotions, and judging by reviews across the internet I am not alone.

Corinne Hofmann from Biel in Switzerland travels to Kenya with her then boyfriend Marco. Within a few hours travelling to Mombasa she has spotted Lketinga, a Masai warrior in full regalia, and responds to him as though struck by lightening. She is in awe of his sheer presence. Marco, her boyfriend no longer makes the cut and she parts from him fairly promptly, as she now only has eyes for ‘her warrier’. She seeks him out at every opportunity, which almost becomes obsessional and stalkerish; she seems to know that this man is going to be the love of her life. She returns to her home in Switzerland and sells up her successful clothing store, planning her trip back to Africa. Never mind that she and Lketinga don’t have a language in common, and that the cultures are utterly polarised. She takes several months to sort her affairs in Europe, whilst listening to indigenous music, which maintains her link to Kenya.

Finally she decamps to find him, and together they make a life, first in Mombasa and then in faraway Barsaloi, his home. Here they live in a traditional home, a manyatta, a simple hut. Water has to be collected, cooking and chai are cooked on a small brazier. There are many cultural differences that leave the author rather surprised and at times angry and upset. She seems to have done little research about what it might mean to live amongst the Samburu people on a daily basis. And this is what makes the memoir such a gripping read. Corinne seems genuinely taken aback by many of the situations in which she finds herself, but love is her driver, and at first seems to conquer all (yes, that feels so cheesy, but her innocent yet focussed conviction seem to drive her onwards, despite hurdles, cultural differences, dirt, pestilence, lack of transport infrastructure,  and Omo which is used for washing everything, from clothes to people).

The author in front of her new manyatta

What is love, one may ask? In this memoir it is the couple connection from her to him, but it is unclear how he feels about her. She goes about wooing him with a certainty that borders on the narcissistic – he is part of her plan and that plan will be executed at all costs. She approaches her new life with a naivety that is, frankly, shocking: simple research might have thrown up that kissing for the Masai people is contemptible. She is upset when she learns that men can neither eat with women, nor eat meat touched by a woman; that the sexes may only drink tea together; and that she and her daughter are expected to undergo a clitoridectomy. She smartly manages to side-step the latter.

Much of what she describes is her response to, at times, catastrophic situations in her new world. She can sometimes bleat on about her difficult situation, and she does spend a huge amount of time crying and suppressing her anger. She puts herself through an inordinate amount of suffering which feels at some unconscious level quite self destructive – whether arduous and neck breaking journeys through the jungle and bush, or dealing with miscommunication and violence. She then contracts malaria and hepatitis, yet still battles on. It is the, at times, deranged determination to make a go of her new situation that left me vacillating between pity, empathy for the delusional belief that things will work out, and finally exasperation. Gradually, as the domestic violence increases, her resolve disintegrates. It is a sad situation.

The writing is curious to say the least. It is clearly written from the heart, easy to read, yet could do with a little refining. It became extremely irritating that she described Lketinga as ‘my warrior’ or ‘my darling’, as though frequent use of either term could somehow bind him to her more. And exclamation marks were used like a scattergun to underline some very difficult encounters. But Peter Millar’s translation was good and made it very readable (we first became acquainted with him when we reviewed his travelogue set in Cuba Slow Train to Guantanamo).

So, if you want a gripping read that will get your emotions churning, then take a chance on this book. You will come away having learned so much about Masai traditions and life in Kenya!

Tina for the TripFiction Team

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