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destination was a Maasai village in the middle of the park. The way our two wheel drive truck was rattling along the rocky road I wasn't sure we would even make it to the village. Just up ahead I spotted a cloud of amber coloured dust lifting into the baking midday air. A herd of elephants perhaps? As we approached two figures appeared from the haze. They were men and it was clear from their outline that they were Maasai; tall slim and elegant with a confident, proud posture. Behind them they were dragging thick thorny branches through the dust, causing the clouds that could be seen far and wide. As they strutted through this land of lions, elephants and leopards their only form of defence was no more than a pointy stick. We were approaching the village now and we could see the purpose of the thorn bushes. All around the camp was a thick wall of them, the only barrier from the maelstrom of wild beasts outside. Although the Maasai take these sensible precautions the wildlife that surrounds them holds no fears. Indeed our guide Cirrus had told us that most animals give these indigenous warriors a wide berth. Elephants in Kenya are actually disturbed by the colour red, the signature colour of the Maasai. Although elephants are colour blind they can still recognise the hue of the clothing, as well as the smell. Maasai warriors are known to spear elephants to demonstrate their strength and bravery.

We entered the village with our two safari companions, Mike and Chris, along with our guide Cirrus. Upon paying our entrance fee of ten pounds per head we were treated to a traditional welcome dance. It seemed the whole village had come to take part, which felt quite an honour considering there were just the four of us. As they filed out in front of us they were chanting in a hypnotising guttural rhythm with all the intricacy and richness in sound of an orchestra. The dance incorporated the men performing their famous po-going leaps, commonly used to display their virility to the attendant women. We were warmly invited to join the dance, to which we agreed with varying levels of vigour. I enthusiastically humiliated myself, launching my stunted little frame into the air with mindless abandon. The blistering heat and the consumption of a few too many buffet dinners ensured my embarrassment was short lived.

We were led round the village and shown inside one of the mud huts. At least I thought it was mud until I was enlightened to its true composition - cow dung. Inside the

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