There is almost one million of them. They belong to one of the biggest minorities in Tanzania and you can see their faces looking at you from billboards. I have visited Maasai, one of the oldest indigenous peoples ever, at the end of the rainy season and met kind people, who live modestly but do not complain even about the little they have.
We are turning from a dusty road to a grassy one. „Kind of an off offroad,“ our driver Moison, by the way also Maasai, jokes. He is right, we have to slow down the big jeep and bob through potholes much bigger than those we saw on the way from Northern Arusha to 400 kilometres distant district of Kiteto. Here, more than a half of the inhabitants are pastorialists, thus Maasai. The afternoon air is scented with a smell of an unkown herb, whose latin name I forget, but the slang expression stays in my head. „Wild weed,“ comments Moison. Maasai use weed as a cure and a pain relief.
Herbs are generally the basics of the first-aid kits. Only the cases mother nature cannot solve are brought to doctor.
The chief and father of the tribe welcomes us at the treshold of a tiny village in which lives only one but big family. The chief is, with 7 wives and 25 children, rather busy. However he still gets up every day full of energy and sets off to graze the cattle. The number of animals the family owns rises to 500.
Therefore his sons are helping with grazing, at least those who can call themselves warrior – morani in Maasai language. It means they have been circumcised and thus can wear red, the colour of warriors. Morani are also carrying a long wooden pole to make the cattle moving, but it serves as a weapon for self defense as well.
Maasai children are hiding behind their mothers at first but as the time passes they lose their shyness and jump into our photo shots, at which they stare unbelievably when we show them their little faces in our cameras. They laugh, run around and look happy. Just the flies in their eyes disturb the idyllic picture.
One of the wives is taking us to see her home. „We sleep here,“ she explains smiling in Maasai language.
A round hut with no windows, smoke coming out of it. They keep the fire inside during the whole day, to make it warm. The fact that they cannot really breathe inside, is another thing. 
The whole family together with few animals throngs within the small place. You cannot speak about comfort.
Women take care of the household. They milk the cattle, knead for lunch and set off for a long walk to get water. The husband stays with each of them one day in a week, he simply has to satisfy all of his spouses. However, the young are privileged.
I am taking photos of the children posing next to one of the huts. The last beams of sun are covering them in a magical atmosphere. The kids stay still, do not move a bit, the annoying flies do not bother them. We are giving them candies and seconds later we hear the cute sounds of them rolling the sweets over in their mouths. The cows are mooing, we hear the chirping cicadas in the background and smell the persistent scent of wild grass. The Maasai living room lacks a plasma and a leather couch, but this fact does not take their smiles away.
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Photo: Irena Mensikova