When I first traveled to Tanzania for my academic field research, I thought I was simply going to study Maasai culture. Instead, I ended up living among the Maasai for a full year, an experience that turned my ideas about love, family, and community upside down.
What struck me immediately was how differently Maasai society runs compared to our Western norms. Men had multiple wives. Divorce did not exist. Marriages were arranged by parents, and often there was a notable age gap between husband and wife.
At first, these customs felt like a direct challenge to everything I had been taught about marriage. Where I came from, the mainstream romantic idea was that marriage is about two people finding love, choosing one another freely, and living “happily ever after.” Among the Maasai, marriage was something else entirely: a collective project designed not for romance, but for survival, family, and community.
Instead of judging, I chose to learn. To listen. To understand why these traditions endure, and what they reveal about resilience and human connection in one of the most demanding environments on Earth.
Read this if you want to know what I learned.
For the Maasai, marriage is not primarily about love or personal fulfillment. It is about kinship, obligation, and survival. Families arrange marriages through negotiations between elders, and a union is as much an alliance between clans as it is between two individuals.
Bridewealth is paid in cattle, which are the very foundation of Maasai life. This exchange is not a “purchase,” but a sign of respect and a recognition that the bride is leaving one family to join another. Cattle bind families together in lasting social contracts that cannot be undone. Divorce is not an option. Once the cows are given, the relationship between the two families is permanent.
In this system, a man may marry several wives over his lifetime. It is not a matter of unchecked desire but of survival strategy. More wives mean more labor to herd cattle, build houses, raise children, and keep the household running in an environment where every resource is hard-earned.
What fascinated me most was the role of the women themselves. Though jealousy naturally exists, Maasai women learn to manage it for the greater good of the family. Some co-wives form deep bonds like sisters, raising children together and sharing household tasks. Others remain more distant, but cooperation is still essential. The success of the family depends on teamwork.
It became clear to me that Maasai marriage is not about two people building a private life together. It is about a network of relationships that sustains the community as a whole.
I still remember the first evenings in the Maasai homestead. Cows were herded back at sunset, smoke rose from the cooking fires, and women moved with quiet rhythm between the huts. In that atmosphere, I began to see how marriage was woven into every part of life around me. It was not spoken of as something private or romantic. It was the invisible thread that tied families, age-sets, and generations together.
This stood in sharp contrast to the world I came from. There, marriage is imagined as the ultimate romantic partnership, a personal choice that should fulfill individual happiness. Among the Maasai, I saw something else: marriage as a collective system of survival. Parents arranged unions, divorce did not exist, and a man’s household often included several wives who cooperated under the same roof.
What struck me was not only that the system was different, but that it worked. It carried the weight of human jealousy, hardship, and imbalance, yet it did not break. Instead it adapted. Families adjusted, women supported one another, men took on duties within their age-groups, and the wider community ensured that no one was left without help.
That made me wonder about my own society. What if marriage was not just a story of two individuals but a project of community and resilience? What if it was less about protecting a private world for two and more about weaving connections that hold everyone stronger?
Living with the Maasai did not give me simple answers, but it gave me a new lens. Travel has that power. It takes what you thought was universal and reveals it as just one possibility among many. It opens your eyes to other ways of being human. And most importantly, travel teaches us not to judge but to learn.
If this glimpse into Maasai marriage expanded your perspective, dive deeper into the full story of kinship, cattle, and collective resilience in my article: www.visitnatives.com/post/why-do-maasai-men-have-multiple-wives-here-s-why
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Hi everyone, I’m Anniina Sandberg. I’m an African researcher (MA) and the founder of Visit Natives, a boutique travel agency that creates immersive and ethical journeys with Indigenous peoples.
My work began during my academic field research with the Maasai in Tanzania, where I spent a year living in a traditional village. That experience changed the way I see marriage, kinship, and community — and inspired me to share these stories with a wider audience.
At Visit Natives, our mission is simple: to connect travelers with authentic cultural experiences while ensuring Indigenous communities directly benefit from every trip. From reindeer herders in Norway to hunter-gatherers in Tanzania and remote tribes in Papua New Guinea, we aim to preserve traditions while fostering meaningful exchange.
I’d love to hear your thoughts: what cultural practices have surprised you most in your own travels? Or check our cultural experiences with the Maasai at www.visitnatives.com/book-maasai
Thank you for sharing your experiences with the Maasai community. It's fascinating to learn how different cultures shape our understanding of family and relationships. How did living with the Maasai influence your view on travel and community?
Really interesting perspective. Thank you