Finding the Lion King in Masai Mara with the Masai Warriors

Arriving at Masai Mara

“I don’t want to break the ice, but you will find a surprise waiting for you in Masai Mara.” The words of our safari guide echoed in my mind as the wheels of our single-propeller plane touched the airstrip in Masai Mara. Like many fellow travelers visiting in July, we were here for the Great Migration of wildebeest. 

Stepping onto the rich red soil, we were greeted by our transfer driver—a young Masai clad in a vibrant red scarf adorned with tribal patterns draped over his shoulder. He led us to an open 4X4 safari vehicle, featuring three rows of two sturdy, waterproof seats in a classic khaki color. As the left door unfolded to form a staircase, we climbed aboard, placing our backpacks and duffle bags on the floor of the middle row. In the back row sat another Masai, a tracker.

"What do you hope to see in the Mara?" our driver asked as the vehicle began to pick up speed on the dirt road. Naturally, we wanted to witness the great migration. Yet, experiences taught us that you would not be rewarded with what you expected on a safari journey. Still, we shared our aspirations with him. He smiled knowingly, replying, “But I can guarantee you, you’ll see plenty of lions.”

We Saw a Lion

Lions were high on our list of must-see wildlife, alongside the migration. We had encountered them during a previous safari in Kruger National Park in South Africa, but we had yet to spot a male lion—the regal figure of a lion pride. We made a pact that our next journey would surely include the sight of these majestic males.

Bouncing along the dirt road, we soon arrived at a shallow stream bordered by lush greenery. Our driver skillfully pulled over, gesturing toward a yellow patch of fur nestled within the bush. Squinting for a better look, we discovered a lioness lounging in the shade, sheltering herself from the harsh sunlight above. This initial, somewhat obscured lion sighting made photography challenging. “Don’t worry, there will be more nearby,” our driver assured us.

Before long, we reached our camp and settled into our room for the next three nights, which is aptly named Simba. The name, of course, calls to mind the beloved main character from Disney’s The Lion King. In Swahili, a Bantu language and the national tongue of Kenya, "simba" means lion.

The Lion King(s)

We were back on the road for our afternoon safari. After leaving the camp and driving for about 15 minutes, we ascended a small hill. To our left, a large rock, standing half a story tall and a few meters wide, hosted two male lions with brown manes perched atop. Their tired eyes glanced our way before quickly closing for a long blink, as they sought refuge from the afternoon heat beneath a bush. Soon, they rested their heads on the ground once more, drifting back into slumber.

These two are brothers, raised in the area, now leading a pride of around 15 lions—this number not including the unseen cubs hidden away by the lionesses. As we returned from our trip a few weeks later, we learned from the camp's Instagram that the cubs had been let out to explore under the watchful eyes of their mothers.

As the sun began to set, we arrived at a serene spot surrounded by short trees, with a narrow stream flowing gently nearby. Our attention was drawn to three teenage lions, one of them affectionately head-rubbing the other two who lay sprawled on the ground—a classic lion greeting. To our right, five more teenagers emerged by the water, two of them playfully chasing and pouncing on one another.

In the distance, a mother lion strolled leisurely into view. She settled peacefully, gazing at her playful offspring. Letting out a series of soft moans, she called for her young ones to come greet her. However, her calls went unnoticed as the teenagers remained engrossed in their antics. Finally, a young lioness responded, approaching her mother and affectionately head-rubbing her in return.

The Pride was Ready to Hunt

Our longing to see more lions remained unfulfilled. Unlike on our first safaris in South Africa, where we mentally checked off each species as we encountered them, this time we sought deeper stories.

The next morning, we were greeted with just such a story. Before the sun had risen above the horizon, we were driven to a nearby stream. The pride of lions from yesterday was there, drinking from the water, though the two male lions were absent. About ten lions slowly made their way up a slope, their coats glistening golden in the early sunlight. Approximately 400 meters away, a group of wildebeest grazed, a few of them glancing nervously toward the lions, sensing imminent danger. Yet they remained undeterred; the wildebeests knew the lions were still too far away to pose a threat. After all, like many cats, lions aren’t built for long-distance sprints.

Eventually, the two male lions came into view, making their way toward the lionesses nearly a kilometer away. They moved slowly, pausing every few steps to rub heads with one another before resuming their cautious trek, scanning their surroundings. “They can smell from kilometers away, so there’s no rush for them,” our safari guide explained. I wondered how they would respond when it was time to hunt. “The lionesses are primarily responsible for hunting for food. Within the pride, there’s a hierarchy: the males eat first, followed by the young, and then the lionesses.”

Our safari guide, Benson, sat calmly in his driver seat, hands resting on the steering wheel as he observed the unfolding scene. A true lion enthusiast, Ben is privileged to witness countless lions in the Masai Mara each day. At 26, he lives in a nearby boma and discovered this job on his school’s job board, which specifically sought a Masai to fill the role.

As a member of the new generation, Ben has benefited from higher education, now mandatory for all Kenyans born after a certain year. With his smartphone in hand, he captured the entire scene, uploading a video to his Instagram story before returning his hands to the steering wheel to continue our adventure.

The Lions and the Masai

Masai Mara is renowned for the spectacular annual Great Migration of wildebeest, which occurs from July to October. During this time, over 1.5 million wildebeests journey from the Serengeti in Tanzania to Masai Mara in Kenya, driven by their quest for fresh grazing and water. As they cross the turbulent waters of the Mara River, they face lurking predators—lions, cheetahs, and crocodiles—waiting to strike.

This land is also a vibrant ecosystem where diverse species thrive. Within the Masai Mara National Reserve and its surrounding conservancies, the lion population is estimated to be around 850 to 900 individuals. This region boasts one of Africa's highest lion densities, with approximately one lion for every two square kilometers.

The following day, we set out for the Mara Triangle, where the great migration of wildebeest occurs annually during the season. While we were fortunate to spot two more male lions, the anticipated river crossing eluded us, as the wildebeests chose to hold their ground.

As Ben selected a hillside slope for our bush breakfast, offering a breathtaking view of the vast Masai Mara plains below, a few safari vehicles passed by, one of which came close to us. The drivers inquired about the location of the lion prides. “Head to the nearby stream where you’ll find a few trees and short bushes. It’s just 15 minutes from here, over that way,” he gestured toward the flat dirt path beside the plain, a clear route for the vehicles. Soon, the other safari vehicles followed suit, forming a lengthy queue, all eager to try their luck.

“They don’t even know where to go,” remarked our tracker, Mosiro, as he helped Ben set up the wooden foldable desks and chairs on the grass. “Everyone wants to see lions, but not everyone can succeed; you need an experienced guide, or a Masai.”

Mosiro, standing over 1.9 meters tall, is from the older generation and was once a real Masai warrior. In his youth, he fought alongside his fellow warriors in battles against lions. Traditionally, the Masai only consume their livestock. The killing of lions is a protective measure for their tribes. In ceremonies, they wear a lion mane head-dress as a symbol of strength. As we chatted over breakfast, he adjusted his red Masai scarf, revealing sharp spears hidden beneath.

Today, however, the Masai are no longer permitted to kill lions except when the lions attack their livestock, owing to a law enacted for wildlife conservation. To compensate for changes in customs, the government has shared tourism revenue from the Masai Mara National Reserve to the indigenous tribes (Masai Mara can literally be understood as the land of the Masai). Alongside customs, the Masai’s way of life has also evolved. Though the Masai men can still marry more than one wife, they are voluntarily limiting their number of offspring, as education has become mandatory in Kenya. More children mean higher education costs.

“The lions are near the trees…” Ben answered the public radio frequency in the vehicle. The other guides had been searching for lions for half an hour since passing us. “Unless they know the landscape as well as the Masai do, they could run for hours without knowing where they’re headed, apart from following the main route.”