By Mathias Tooko (Maasai, CS Fellow)
The Maasai are widely recognized as one of the few Indigenous communities whose cultural identity remains boldly visible and deeply rooted in tradition. For generations, their uninterrupted pastoral way of life, social organization, ceremonies, dress, and Ecological Knowledge have defined their collective identity while projecting a powerful global image of East Africa. In both Tanzania and Kenya, the two countries where the Maasai predominantly reside, Maa culture has evolved into a national symbol frequently showcased in tourism campaigns, global marketing, and the entertainment industry as a representation of heritage, authenticity, and harmony with nature.
Yet, beyond this celebrated image lies a more complex and urgent reality. Maasai cultural heritage is increasingly facing challenges that threaten its continuity. While the Maasai remain deeply connected and loyal to their traditional lifestyle—one that defines their pride, identity, and existence—rapid environmental, social, and economic transformations are contributing to gradual, but profound, cultural erosion.
Among these forces, climate change stands out as the most critical and accelerating factor. Changing rainfall patterns, prolonged droughts, unpredictable seasons, and the shrinking of grazing lands are not only reshaping pastoral livelihoods but also disrupting the cultural systems embedded within them. For the Maasai, cattle are more than an economic asset: they are central to spirituality, social relations, rites of passage, and community cohesion. When climate change alters grazing cycles and water availability, it also disrupts ceremonies, traditional mobility patterns, intergenerational knowledge transmission, and gender roles that have long structured Maasai society.
This article is the culmination of a project aimed at documenting the Maasai worldview and wisdom on Climate Change, conducted under the Cultural Survival Investigative Journalism Fellowship. It is grounded in lived experiences shared by Maasai Elders in northern Tanzania, who reflected on how climate change is influencing their livelihoods and cultural practices. Through in-depth conversations, four knowledgeable Elder women and men representing the villages of Engaresero, Oloirien, Olopiri, and Ololosokwan shared their perspectives and memories. These villages were selected because of their diverse ecological settings, ranging from highland zones and the foot of the Great Rift Valley to expansive savannah grasslands. Each landscape presents distinct environmental pressures and adaptive responses, offering varied, yet interconnected, experiences of climate-driven change.
Kimbai Ole Nagol, sharing his rich knowledge on Maasai cultural pharmacy.
The Struggle to Safeguard Maasai Herbal Wisdom
At Naan Village , respected Maasai Elder, Kimbai Ole Nagol, spoke about the profound transformations unfolding in his community. He is a well known local herbalist who has treated various illnesses using Indigenous medicinal knowledge passed down through generations. While recognizing the more recent dynamics of climate change, Ole Nagol emphasized that climate change should not be understood merely as an environmental crisis, but equally as a cultural one. As an herbal practitioner, he witnesses firsthand how environmental shifts are directly affecting Maasai knowledge systems and healthcare traditions. Prolonged droughts, rising temperatures, and erratic rainfall patterns have led to the disappearance of several important medicinal plants that once grew abundantly in nearby grazing lands and forested areas.
“I think many people understand climate change only as an environmental problem. They see drought, they see livestock dying, they see hunger,” Ole Nagol said. “That’s very true, but from my personal experience, climate change goes far beyond that. It is slowly taking away our Traditional Knowledge that has been passed from one generation to another. For example, for about 15-20 years, I used to collect an herbal fruit called Iseketek. It grew close to our homes, in the woodland hills. We did not have to walk long distances to find it. We knew its season, its taste, its healing power. It was part of our life and part of our medicine. Today, because of prolonged droughts, those plants are no longer there. The land has become too dry, the seasons have changed, and Iseketek are disappearing. What pains me most is that many young people have never even seen this fruit. They do not know its value, they do not know the stories behind it, or how it was used to treat certain illnesses. When a plant disappears, its knowledge also disappears. And it is not only Iseketek—there are others, like Osokonoi and Emugutan. These plants are becoming rare. With them, a part of our identity is fading.”
As I listened to the life experience from this Elder, I heard more than concern in his words; they also carried grief. His reflection reveals a dimension of climate change that is rarely documented: the quiet erosion of Indigenous memory. While policy discussions often measure climate change in temperature rise, rainfall variability, and livestock loss, for communities like the Maasai, the crisis is also measured in disappearing names, fading medicinal practices, and interrupted Indigenous knowledge systems. In other words, the disappearance of medicinal plants represents more than ecological change. Rather, it is a break in the chain of cultural transmission. The forest once functioned as a living classroom where Elders guided young people in identifying plants, understanding their properties, and respecting the land. Now, as certain species vanish, that classroom is shrinking.
At Engaresero, located along the floor of the Great Rift Valley, the ecological landscape differs significantly from the highland setting of Oloipiri. Certain medicinal plants, such as Iseketek and Osokonoi, which are more accessible in upland areas, are naturally less common here due to variations in altitude, soil, and vegetation. Yet, despite these environmental differences, the underlying experience of climate pressure on cultural knowledge remains strikingly similar.
There, I spoke with Normao Kimojino to understand patterns of Indigenous herbal knowledge and how they are affected by environmental change. She acknowledged that climate change is creating both environmental strain and cultural disruption. According to Kimojino, one of the most visible changes has been the shift in wildlife movement. Historically, Maasai communities have coexisted closely with wild animals, sharing landscapes in ways that are both practical and culturally meaningful. However, prolonged droughts, shrinking water sources, and altered vegetation patterns are pushing wildlife to migrate toward more remote or protected areas in search of pasture and water.
Kimojino explained that elephants have long played an indirect, but important, role in traditional healing practices. The Maasai use elephant dung as a remedy for certain joint-related ailments. Because elephants consume a wide variety of wild plants, their partially-digested dung contains a mixture of botanical compounds believed to have therapeutic value. This knowledge, developed through generations of close ecological observation, reflects a sophisticated understanding of animal behavior and plant properties. Today, as climate change reshapes the ecosystem, elephants are less frequently seen near community lands. Their migration to distant areas has made access to this traditional remedy increasingly difficult; what was once readily available within a shared landscape is now harder to obtain. She explained,
“At Engaresero, I have watched the land change over the years. Unlike the highlands, plants like Iseketek and Osokonoi are not common here. But even so, I feel the same pressure that other communities are experiencing from climate change. It is not just the environment that is shifting, but also our culture, our knowledge, our way of life. In the past, elephants and other wild animals shared these lands with us. We coexisted. We knew where they went and how their presence influenced the land. But now, because of prolonged droughts and scarce water, the animals are moving farther away, into remote areas. This is more than just a change in where animals roam; it affects our medicine. For generations, we have used elephant dung to treat joint problems. Elephants eat almost every kind of plant in the wild, and their dung carries the medicine of all these plants. It was a gift from nature, freely available and deeply connected to our understanding of the land. Now, with the elephants moving far from here, that medicine is becoming harder to access.”
For Kimojino, this shift represents more than the loss of a medicinal resource. It signals a weakening of the interconnected relationship among people, wildlife, and land. When animals migrate and ecosystems transform, the knowledge systems built around them also begin to fade. Younger generations grow up without witnessing these interactions, limiting their opportunities to learn practices once embedded in daily life.
A Maasai woman taking her traditional responsibility in ensuring good houses for family members.
How Climate Change Redefines Maasai Social Duties
Climate change is reshaping traditional roles and duties within Maasai culture that have historically been strictly defined by gender and age. Tasks such as constructing a home were traditionally the domain of women, with skills and knowledge passed down from mother to daughter over generations. These homes, built entirely from mud, cow dung, and wood, carried cultural significance far beyond shelter: the process itself reinforced social bonds and transmitted essential cultural knowledge.
Today, however, prolonged droughts and the rapid decline of forests, woodlands, and grasslands have made the raw materials for these homes increasingly scarce. To cope, communities are turning to industrial alternatives such as bricks, cement, and metal sheets. This shift has led to an unexpected reorganization of responsibilities, with men, who historically had little involvement in house construction, now taking on these tasks. The scarcity of traditional building materials, compounded by climate pressures, has interrupted the intergenerational transmission of knowledge. Increasingly, young women no longer inherit the skills, rituals, and practices associated with constructing Maasai homes, resulting in subtle, but significant, gaps in cultural continuity.
Kimojino described this change with a mixture of surprise and amusement: “Constructing traditional Maasai houses has become a real challenge these days because the materials we once relied on are now scarce. Here in Engaresero village, it is much harder to find enough wood, sticks, and grasses for building compared to the past, when everything grew right at our doorstep. I think this scarcity is why more people are turning to industrial materials like bricks and metal sheets to build their homes. What surprises me most is that it is now often men who are doing this work, something that would have been unimaginable a few decades ago. It almost feels laughable to see men taking on a task that has always been considered women’s work, but necessity has changed everything.”
Maasai houses are made purely out of biogradable materials-cow dung, sticks, wood, soil and grasses.
In Oloirien, I visited Ole Pusalet, a Maasai Elder who shared with me how adverse climate conditions are reshaping social responsibilities within Maasai society. He described climate change as a force that is unsettling the economic and cultural foundations upon which community life has long depended. According to Ole Pusalet, declining grazing lands, prolonged droughts, and shrinking water sources have significantly reduced livestock numbers, undermining food security and destabilizing household economies. For a community whose identity is inseparable from land and cattle, these changes carry consequences far beyond material loss.
In Maasai culture, cattle are not only economic assets, but also social currency, central to marriage arrangements, rituals, status, and daily sustenance. As herds diminish, the traditions, customs, and ceremonies tied to them are also shifting. Traditionally, young Maasai men warriors served as guardians of livestock and protectors of the community. Their identity and social standing were built around pastoral responsibility. During times when grazing lands were abundant and herds were strong, this role was culturally reinforced. Traditional foods such as milk, meat, and blood sustained warriors and symbolized the deep interconnection between cattle and community life.
Ole Pusalet expressed particular concern about the changing role of youth: “Today, I see how climate variability has disrupted the system we once relied on. The pasture is no longer reliable. Water sources dry up quickly. Our livestock die during prolonged droughts. The economic pressure on families is heavier than I have ever witnessed before. The pastoral life that once defined our roles is weakening. In the past, young warriors had a clear purpose to guard cattle, to protect the community, to grow into responsible Elders through pastoral life. The land provided enough grass and the cattle were strong. Milk, meat, and blood were sufficient to sustain both warriors and families. That was our system, and it worked. I am surprised by how much has changed in such a short time. Many young people no longer see a future in herding alone. Some leave for towns and cities to work as security guards or take other wage jobs. Others join the tourism sector near conservation areas. I never imagined that one day our warriors would exchange their traditional responsibilities for uniforms and city life.”
Sharing knowledge and wisdom from Elders as an insight during production of this assignment.
As youth spend less time engaged in pastoral life, the transmission of traditional skills, Ecological Knowledge, and ceremonial practices becomes fragmented. “I do not blame them because they are responding to the reality we face, but I feel a deep concern,” Ole Pusalet said. “When young men leave the land, they also leave behind the daily practices through which knowledge is passed down. The chain that connects Elders, warriors, and children becomes weaker. I sometimes ask myself, if the cattle are fewer and the warriors are gone, what will remain of the system that shaped us? Climate change is changing who we are.”
In Ololosokwan, Norkisaruni Ole Koipa shared a similar observation of the changing roles of women. Traditionally, in addition to constructing the family home, women were the primary caretakers, responsible for homestead activities such as cooking, milking cattle, fetching water, and collecting firewood. Beyond these domestic duties, women also played an essential cultural role as community entertainers and knowledge bearers through singing, storytelling, and passing down history, values, and moral teachings to younger generations in social settings.
Ole Koipa noted that today, those moments of cultural transmission are becoming less frequent. Water and firewood are now found much farther from the village, requiring longer and more physically demanding journeys. At the same time, women must navigate the emotional and practical stresses of feeding their families as drought reduces milk production and weakens livestock. In some cases, women are compelled to engage in small-scale trade or informal income-generating activities to supplement household earnings, subtly transforming their traditional economic roles.
“My roles and responsibilities as a woman have gradually changed over the years,” Ole Koipa said. “In the past, we were not as heavily burdened as we are today because our land and our cattle provided almost everything a family needed. Life was not easy, but it was balanced. As girls, we helped raise our younger siblings, fetched water from nearby sources, and assisted our mothers with cooking. Yet, even with these duties, we still had time to sit with our parents, to listen to stories, to sing together in the evenings, and to learn beadwork for our personal decorations. Those moments shaped who we were. They taught us our culture, our identity, and our values. Now, as I grow older and watch my children and grandchildren, I feel a quiet sadness. They are not enjoying the cultural life that we once knew. Water and firewood are far away, livestock are fewer, and the daily demands of survival are heavier. There is less time for storytelling, less time for songs, less time for the slow teaching of traditions. I sometimes feel helpless, because these changes are happening beyond our control.”
The testimonies of the Elders from Oloipiri, Engaresero, Oloirien, and Ololosokwan point to a shared and urgent reality that climate change is not only transforming landscapes, but reshaping cultures. It is altering relationships between land and livestock, wildlife and healing systems, gender and responsibility, and Elders and youth. For the Maasai, whose identity is deeply intertwined with ecology, such shifts strike at the very heart of social organization, knowledge transmission, and cultural continuity.
Despite these disruptions, however, there is resilience. Maasai communities are adapting in both visible and invisible ways, redefining roles, exploring alternative livelihoods, and negotiating new realities while striving to maintain dignity and identity. Elders continue to speak, women continue to carry families through hardship, while youth navigate between tradition and modern economic demands.
Documenting these lived experiences has been made possible through the support of Cultural Survival, whose fellowships create space for Indigenous voices to tell their own stories. Through funding community-based research and storytelling, Cultural Survival helps bring forward perspectives that are often overlooked in global climate discourse. Too often, climate conversations are dominated by statistics and policy frameworks, while the cultural dimensions of loss and adaptation remain invisible. This fellowship has given voice to the words of Elders, women, and community members whose knowledge is rooted in lived experience.
As climate change continues to redefine the physical landscapes of Maasailand in northern Tanzania, it is equally redefining cultural landscapes. The challenge ahead is hence not only environmental restoration, but cultural revitalization: safeguarding Indigenous knowledge systems, protecting intergenerational learning, and ensuring that adaptation does not mean removal.
--Mathias Tooko (Maasai) is a journalist and storyteller from a community in northern Tanzania. He is a 2025 Cultural Survival Indigenous Journalism Fellow.
Top photo: Interview with Elder during this assigment at Oloipiri Village.
