I own a guesthouse, coordinate the SNV tourism project and manage the local post office. I came to Longido from the coast twenty years ago.
Around one thousand tourists visit each year, many camping outside town to experience what they imagine as wilderness. Visitor numbers did not fall much after 9/11; large groups continued coming, and today many are students.
Project income is divided according to an agreement covering women, cooks, guides, the Maasai community and the guesthouse. I cannot change prices by myself.
If visitors want a lower price, the whole village must discuss it—and a community decision cannot be rushed for someone’s travel schedule.
Some tourists ask me to obtain marijuana, which I refuse because it is illegal and dangerous. Once, under pressure, I suggested they smoke outside at night where nobody would notice. Looking back, that was a poor decision that exposed me to serious risk.
Excessive drinking causes other difficulties. One couple left without paying their full bar bill. When they returned, the argument woke up half the town. I offered to pay just to end the scene, but the matter was settled the next morning. Incidents like these are rare.
I also explain local clothing norms. Men may wear shorts reaching the knee. Women are expected to wear long skirts or trousers because local women do not show their legs. Seeing an older woman in shorts is especially difficult for villagers, who treat elderly women with deep respect.
An important part of my work is communicating our rules and values: explaining why a price belongs to the village, a law is not negotiable and clothing carries social meaning.
Public kissing and touching can also offend. I try to explain all of this before visitors enter a village so curiosity can lead to exchange rather than conflict.
After twenty years, I am still translating between community decisions and visitor expectations—between two cultures that can meet well when neither assumes its own habits are universal.