Skewered Maasai chicken

When I was there in the 80’s the International Centre of Insect Physiology and Ecology (ICIPE) in Kenya had established various partnerships with universities and research centres outside Africa. I was involved with the collaboration with the University of Neuchâtel on tick pheromones. The idea was to explore ways of attracting ticks to pheromone-baited traps and, with the addition of a tickicide[1], to destroy them.

Bont ticks male (left) and female. A bad picture.

Bont ticks male (left) and female. A bad picture.

The composition of the aggregation pheromone of the Bont tick[2], one of the important cattle ticks, had just been discovered. It was a mixture of three chemicals that were available commercially. This offered us a good opportunity to test this compound in the field. Ernest was the scientist from Neuchâtel that would work with me at Intona ranch where natural populations of the tick occurred.

Ernest was a very enthusiastic and good-humoured Swiss that had a hearing problem as a consequence of firing cannons during his military service in the Swiss Alps, forgetting about wearing earmuffs! Luckily, we got on well from the start. So, armed with the necessary research tools, we departed for Intona to spend a few days doing fieldwork.

As a precaution, we did take a few ticks from the tick colony in case the bush ones would not cooperate! Crossing the Maasai Mara Game Reserve was never disappointing and, as usual, we spent a night there on the way to the Transmara where Intona was located. Ernest was delighted being able to see the plains game and we wee also lucky to spot elephants, lions and hyenas.

In the morning, as usual, we laboriously climbed the Oloololo escarpment and stopped to admire the breath taking view of the Mara triangle from its highpoint. The almost aerial view that it offered was really thrilling, even for me, a regular visitor to the area. Lines of wildebeest could be seen in the distance as well as dark patches that indicated buffalo herds. As I knew he would, Ernest loved the view. After spending a long while in contemplation, it was time to continue our long journey.

Maasai cattle at the Mara River bridge on the way to the Transmara.

Maasai cattle at the Mara River bridge on the way to the Transmara.

Following the escarpment the road was bad as usual but luckily this time it was dry. However, we needed to stop a few times, not because of getting stuck or having mechanical problems, but because Ernest was amazed at how bad the road was! “Ooohh no, please stop!” he would shout and then get out of the car to photograph it even before I managed to stop. Clearly he was comparing the Transmara tracks with the Swiss roads!

Stuck on the way to Intona on a rainy day.

Stuck on the way to Intona on a rainy day.

Eventually, after a few halts, he got used to the rough road but, being a very active person, his attention drifted to other things. As all first time visitors to the Transmara he took a great interest on the Maasai people and their cattle, a normal sight in the area for me but quite so for guests. As the Maasai were not keen on pictures, we did not stop.

Maasai herdsman on the way to Intona.

Maasai herdsman on the way to Intona.

Maasai Manyatta (dwelling).

Maasai Manyatta (dwelling).

Maasai children looking after livestock.

Maasai children looking after livestock.

After about half an hour of hard going I heard “Stop” coming from Ernest as we approached a large muddy pond by the side of the road. While I stopped the car he rummaged in his rucksack from where he extracted what looked like an over-sized hypodermic syringe and a tumbler. I was not sure of what was going on and limited myself to watch, together with our herdsmen travel companions. “This is a Swiss water filter that will make any water suitable for drinking” he said as we were walking towards the mud and the terrapins swam away in fear! He added “It is recommended by the Swiss Tropical Institute, so it must be good!”

Without further ado he sucked water into the syringe and, once it was full, it poured into the glass. The water was indeed crystal clear! “You see,” he said, showing the glass. I must confess that it was an impressive feat as the puddle was truly a thick chocolate mud and I had not seen such a contraption before! Ernest offered the water to us and, when we all politely declined, he drank it himself before I could stop him, fearing for the consequences on his guts.

After praising the quality of what he had just drunk, he repeated the operation once more. This time one of the herdsmen agreed to try it and he agreed that it was indeed OK if with a bit of a muddy taste. “The filter must be getting clogged,” declared Ernest, “I must clean it when we get to Intona”. I refrain from commenting on the cost-effectiveness of the device and we resumed our trip, clearly ready for innovation.

Eventually we arrived at Intona ranch. It was almost dark so we rushed to assemble our tent, had an early dinner and went to bed as we both felt the long two-day trip.

The following day we started our work early and spent most of the day carrying out several trials that were quite successful. In the afternoon we decided that we would have roasted chicken for dinner so while Ernest continued working I went with Tommi, my Maasai assistant, in search of dinner. Eventually we managed to persuade a Maasai lady to sell us a cockerel.

Our prospective dinner was killed by me and plucked by Ernest. The size of its talons were unequivocal indicators of its seniority and its leanness qualified it as a Maasai chicken long-distance runner! Its muscular condition spoke of speed and endurance at the service of survival! Oblivious to all this, Ernest assembled a boy scout-like contraption with branches where, after impaling the chicken, it would be rotated over the fire. We invited our herdsmen to join us and they prepared their traditional “ugali[3]” to go with it.

The cooking of the chicken took a very long time. Ernest kept stabbing it and declaring that it was cooked but still tough. The lengthy turning process led to inexorable shrinking and darkening until it was declared fit for human consumption. The cockerel had turned into a “toasted baby chicken”. I saw the herdsmen exchanging doubtful glances over their Tusker beers, a bad omen!

Ernest cut it into equal pieces and -luckily- Joseph placed large chunks of ugali to go with it. Tommi bit the first piece and I heard a “Taargh” coming from him that became a clear “tough!” once he managed to swallow it. Bad news coming from a Maasai! Ernest agreed on its toughness but declared that it tasted like real chickens did a long time ago in Switzerland so he was happy! As for the rest of us, we could have done with a second runner Maasai chicken!

Transmara, Kenya, circa 1986.


[1] Also known as an acaricide, a substance that kills ticks.

[2] Amblyomma variegatum (the Bont tick) transmits Cowdria ruminantum that causes a deadly disease of ruminants known as Heartwater.

[3] From Swahili, maize flour cooked with water to a thick porridge. It is the staple food in Kenya.

To Hwange!


There are 430 km from Harare to Bulawayo and 330 km from the there to Hwange National Park. As we had time, we preferred to interrupt our journey at Bulawayo to ensure that we drove safely and experiences less fatigue.

The first part of the journey was uneventful except for several Police roadblocks, speed traps and Toll stations, in addition to the road works that require rather long stoppages as the road is cut in several places. This being said, it is good to see that roads are being maintained.

It was during one of these stops that our attention was drawn to a pick up queuing ahead of us. We could see “things” moving in the open back. At first we took it for some flapping canvas or plastic sheeting, a common occurrence. On second look we realized that there were heads bobbing up and down. The heads’ belonged to a “flock” of red hens being transported to or from a farm!

The pick up’s feathery occupants were clearly bored and bent on having a look around! Look they did and, seeing freedom, they became more agitated and, somehow they managed to loosen the strings that were keeping them tied to the car and once free, it took a very short time before a pioneer gathered its courage and jumped out! The occupants of the pick up were both on their cell phones and did not notice this. It was only when several hens had abandoned the car that the lady occupant -a rather large lady- managed to get out of the car and take in what was happening. There were hens running for freedom in several directions on both sides of the road.

The large lady, clearly not dressed for running after chickens in high heels, a tight dress and large earrings, made a short attempt at getting some back and nearly got run over -together with the hens- by a car coming in the opposite direction! Not keen to begin with, this quickly persuaded her that it was too much work so she quickly gave up the chase, huffing and puffing and proceeded to contemplate the calamity. While this was going on, the driver finished his call and got out of the car to assess the situation. Realizing that it was critical, he recruited some of the road workers who gradually, managed to recover the fugitives that miraculously did not get hit by the passing cars!

When the light turned green we overtook the troubled pick up. Operation “catch that hen” was still going on and the fugitive hens were being captured, tied and deposited unceremoniously back in the car.

After the night in Bulawayo we resumed our journey. Again the road was not too busy but we came across a number of rural buses, a remarkable feature on Zimbabwe roads.

red bus front small

They are all similarly built, following a format that has not changed over many years. Their main signature is their large roof racks, usually heavily and highly loaded with the belongings of people going to the rural areas. They are a very effective means of transportation loyal to the motto “if it works, don’t fix it”. Their drivers deliver a rural courier service as they carry money and other documents of importance that need to change hands between rural families and relatives working in the cities and viceversa.

buses overtaking small

These buses are not fast and their drivers are rather careful so they did not cause any problems, and we were able to admire them as we overtook or crossed them while wandering about their final destination.

2 buses small

A different -and rather dangerous- find was a convoy of lorries carrying very heavy mining equipment that occupied the entire width of the road, making overtaking a real hazard.

wide mining machine small


wide machine small

We followed the wise course and waited for a break that took a while to come as we crawled behind the convoy. The opportunity presented itself at a toll station as the machines, because of their bulk, needed to take a detour around the station. We drove through and left them behind to continue to our destination at good speed.