I could not hear the song, which they were singing.

Thou touch by the strange and haunting tune.

As the women worked, for their men out hunting.

Beneath the tranquil Serengeti moon.

Everything in life, so hard but unstrained.

Leafless trees and no sound of the sea.

To live in peace, in a world of simplicity.

Working together, in perfect synchronicity.

What they consider wealth, we preach poor.

She raises her child, before her breast.

Whose skin is more silken brown then hers?

A husband’s heart and soul to archive the best.

Moonlight emerges from between the clouds.

As men, stoke the long grass towards a kill.

From the plain ahead, silhouette shadows roam.

Onwards slowly, driven by the thrill.

A Massi stands proud, spear in hand.

His muscular grip begins to tighten.

Taking his aim and ready to run.

The alerted prey startled and frightened.

Just another scene, from another day.

Returning home to smiles and cheers.

A successful kill, means a mighty feast.

A way of life, unchanged for years.

(Photography by Gary Peters)