Ahead of Tanzania’s election, Maasai fight to stay put
| Dar es Salaam, Tanzania
In August, more than 40,000 people in Tanzania discovered an alarming change to their voter registration.
In the past, members of the Maasai community have always cast their ballots in their hometowns in the country’s north. For the local election in November, however, they had been assigned to a polling station hundreds of miles away.
Why We Wrote This
A story focused onFor years, Tanzania’s government has been trying to push Maasai pastoralists off their ancestral land to make way for conservation projects. But the community is fighting to stay put.
The decision sounded alarm bells among many Maasai, pastoralists who have repeatedly clashed with the Tanzanian government in recent years over their right to stay on their ancestral land in the Serengeti.
Since 2022, the Tanzanian government has relocated more than 9,600 Maasai from this corner of the country, often through forced evictions. It claims the Maasai’s presence threatened the conservation of the Serengeti’s world-famous, acacia-dotted landscapes. But watching that same land being carved up for safari parks and trophy-hunting reserves, Maasai and their supporters suspected less pure motives.
For many, the voter registration change was the final straw.
“It feels like they’re pushing us out,” explains Daudi Saning’o, a Maasai herder.
Soon, he joined thousands who poured into the streets, blocking safari vehicles and wielding signs that read, “We will fight for our land until the end.”
On a chilly morning in mid-August, Daudi Saning’o set off as usual from his home on Tanzania’s Serengeti plain, his horned cattle lazily roaming alongside him. Their bells clanged softly. For as long as he could remember, tending to his herd here had been his life’s purpose, and a connection to his pastoral Maasai heritage.
“I love my livestock as much as I love my family,” says the 40-something father of seven.
Now, however, Mr. Saning’o’s way of life was under siege. Since 2022, the Tanzanian government had relocated more than 9,600 Maasai from this corner of the country. It claimed their presence threatened the conservation of the area’s world-famous, acacia-dotted landscapes. But watching that same land being carved up for safari parks and trophy-hunting reserves, Maasai and their supporters suspected less pure motives.
Why We Wrote This
A story focused onFor years, Tanzania’s government has been trying to push Maasai pastoralists off their ancestral land to make way for conservation projects. But the community is fighting to stay put.
And the pressure was still building. That morning, as Mr. Saning’o walked beside his cows, he got a call from a friend. The man told him to check his voter registration.
When he did, Mr. Saning’o discovered that for the local government elections on Nov. 27, he had not been assigned to vote in his own village, as he always had in the past. Instead, he had to cast his ballot in the town of Msomera, a seven-hour bus ride away.
Although Mr. Saning’o had never been there, the name was familiar. It was the location of the settlement the government had built for Maasai whom it had moved out of the Serengeti. Looking at his registration, Mr. Saning’o feared he would be next.
“First, they banned us from grazing [in certain areas]. Now they don’t even want us to vote in our own villages,” he says. “It feels like they’re pushing us out.”
Pristine landscapes
Around the time Mr. Saning’o learned about his new polling station, more than 40,000 other Maasai made the same discovery. Their registration had been moved to Msomera, only three months ahead of voting day on Nov. 27, according to Giveness Aswile, a spokesperson for the Independent National Electoral Commission.
The decision sounded alarm bells among many Maasai, who saw it as a tactic to further weaken their formal connection to their land.
Historically, the Maasai have herded their cattle on the plains that straddle northern Tanzania and southern Kenya. Today, most Maasai in Tanzania live in a district called Ngorongoro.
But they are far from the only ones with an interest in that land. The site of one of the largest animal migrations on Earth and unique geological features like the world’s largest volcanic caldera, Ngorongoro has long been a magnet for all kinds of global do-gooders and adventure-seekers – and their money. Today, its game reserves draw about 750,000 tourists a year.
The region is a particularly beloved holiday destination of the Dubai royal family, who come by private jet to shoot lions and other wildlife in their own private game reserve. One sheikh recently signed a deal to lease a vast swatch of Tanzania’s forests – totaling 8% of the country’s land – for a carbon offset business.
Part of the region’s allure is its supposed emptiness – a place that appears untouched by humans. Tanzania’s government says the growing Maasai communities in the region threaten both the wildlife and natural environment.
Since 2022, it has used a variety of tactics to compel Maasai to leave Ngorongoro. On protected land, their cattle-grazing has been severely restricted and key water supplies cut off. Social services such as hospitals and schools have been shuttered. Some Maasai communities have been evicted by force, while others have taken buyouts to move out of the region.
To date, about 10,000 Maasai have moved to Msomera, a town more than 300 miles away in a dry, windswept part of eastern Tanzania. There, large polygamous families are crowded into single houses, and people say the parched land is not suitable for grazing their herds.
“It’s very difficult, we are losing our way of life,” says Edwin Nang’oye, a father of eight from two wives. He moved to Msomera in March after accepting a government offer of 10 million Tanzanian shillings (about $3,600) and a small house.
Dignity at stake
In mid-August, Mr. Saning’o joined a large group of Maasai in staging protest marches calling for their voter registration to be changed back to Ngorongoro. One human rights activist estimated that thousands of people joined the demonstrations.
“If the relocation exercise is voluntary, why have they removed villages” from the list of local wards, asked James Moringe, a councilor for Alaitole ward in Ngorongoro.
Demonstrators marched with banners carrying messages like “We will fight for our land until the end,” singing and tearfully reciting prayers as they went. They blocked roads, cutting off access to the Toyota Land Cruisers that carried binocular-wielding safari tourists into the conservation area each day.
“When our right to vote is taken away, our dignity, too, is at stake,” explains Rose Njilo, a local leader who was part of the protests.
At first, the government denied there was any problem with the voter roll. But after five days of protest, and an emergency court order to reinstate the Ngorongoro wards removed from the voter roll, a representative of the president arrived to address the demonstrators.
“All eligible citizens in Ngorongoro will be allowed to vote in their respective areas, just like any other Tanzanians,” explained William Lukuvi, a cabinet minister, according to local television reports.
Supposedly, it was a victory. But Mr. Saning’o and other demonstrators cannot shake the feeling that the fight isn’t over.
Many Maasai say that after the problems they faced, they could no longer vote for the ruling Chama Cha Mapinduzi (CCM) party. “How can I support a party that doesn’t respect our rights?” asks Mr. Saning’o, who was previously a loyal CCM supporter. Supporting the opposition, however, is no simple choice in Tanzania, where non-CCM candidates and supporters are frequently harassed and intimidated. During the last local government elections in 2019, the opposition chose to boycott the vote altogether in protest against CCM manipulation of the polls.
For the Maasai, the goal of the election is simple: to choose representatives who support their right to be in Ngorongoro.
“This land is everything to us,” Mr. Saning’o says. “And we will fight to stay.”
