ARUSHAOur small Lodge was nestled into one of the foot-hills of Mount Meru's lower slope. The air here was so clean and fresh that for a moment, I felt like I had lost my sense of smell.
"I quit smoking by climbing to the top of Meru and back"- Joshua said as he blew cigarette smoke through his nostrils.
"That's why I smoke, because I know Meru is there, and I can quit anytime."
Interesting. But seriously, I would push open the doors every morning, just before the sun rose, and inhale the fullest, deepest and coldest breath of mountain air.
It felt like that was all I needed to complete the day. Moutain air, and maybe a bottle of Kilimanjaro water (which once fell as rain or snow on the mountain's cap, was filtered, bottled and then changed my life).
Our first day in Arusha we arranged to visit a local village to meet and speak with the people and to explore the natural beauty of Mount Meru's foot-hills. I expected this to be a cultural journey; to really see how the people in this area endure, in spite of the booming tourism industry and the large influx of foreigners on the safari circuits.
I wanted to inspect every aspect of their lives, talk with them, hear their stories and share mine. Was it really that ludicrous that I felt connected, almost like a prodigal daughter, kidnapped and now returned?
The Lodge organized a guide for us, he was 52 year old Penyal and he would show us around his village and make sure we made it back safely and within reasonable time.
He was happy to meet us, explaining that he had never EVER seen black tourists staying at Karama Lodge, and for all the years that he had been doing guided tours of his village, he had never taken black people there before.
"Karibu sana!!" He cheered, "Welcome home" and he hugged us close to him.
We set off to Ngeresi, the small village surrounding the Temi waterfall.
We drove slowly and steadily upward, until our line of sight was almost parallel to the mighty Meru.
We passed children returning home from school, young women toting fire wood, balanced firmly on scarves atop their heads.
I waved at some new friends as we passed, some waving back, others staring, trying to figure out if we, the strange, black mzungus, were in fact a figment of their imagination.
"Naomba kupiga picha?" I asked a little girl who was posed with a peace sign as soon as she saw my camera. "Ndiyo" she said and her smile widened. This photograph is a treasure and I am happy to share it with you.
We arrived at the village-chief's (now called "village chairman's") house and received an extremely warm welcome from his daughter Margaret and his son Selah.
We introduced ourselves, drank a cup of delicious home-grown tea and set off on our walk through the village. Selah walked with us, describing his village and lifestyle in poetic, rhymthic English. I literally fell in love with everything around me.
Every shade of green was represented in its fullest vibrancy.
Sweet potatoes, carrots, coffee, bananas, beans, peas, corn, coconuts, papaw, pumpkins, mangoes and oranges were not even half of the lush produce growing on the slopes of this small village. Selah showed us wild rosemary, lemongrass, thyme, basil and marijuana. Wild... as in uncultivated, growing and thriving freely in it's natural environment.
I asked to see the local school which was recently constructed, but due to low funding, remained unfinished and packed to full capacity.
We introduced ourselves to the Principal who was quick to point out the inadequacies of the classrooms, mainly that one room alone housed 90 teenagers and that they are working toward constructing another, but the $1400USD expense was currently out of their reach.
We were invited to visit the class, where the children were nervous and excited to meet us.
The teacher relished in the idea of lost Africans returning home, trying to find their origins and discover their roots. He challenged the class to guess, based on our physical attributes, which tribe we would be from, had we been from Tanzania.
The children giggled and whispered their answers. One boy raised his hand and asked why is it we dressed like mzungus (white people) and spoke like them, still our skin was black like Africans. Seizing a teachable moment, I recalled the story of the "Maafa" (hopefully in a way they never heard before), which is swahili for the great devastation of the Black Holocaust, where millions of African men, women, children, animals, literature, culture and technologies were stolen away across the sea only to be invalidated, exploited and lost...for a time.
Countless seasons later, as sons and daughters of survivors, we had returned to Africa in search of knowledge and understanding.
Most likely our ancestors were from the West, but it is quite possible they could be from the East. The class suggested that I was Chagga and my husband, Maasai.
They pointed out one girl who they joked was my sister. She was a quiet, timeless beauty who reached out and hugged me. One of the many unforgettable moments.
Next stop on our walk through the village was to visit a traditional Warusha home/ Maasai Boma. These round houses with thatched roofs are originally made from mud and cow-dung and provide shared shelter for a wife, her children and her cows.
This particular home however was slightly "modernized" with a shingled roof and painted exterior walls. The woman of the house graciously invited us inside so we could see what her home was like and learn how she and her family lived.
We returned to Selah's home for an amazing vegetarian lunch (thanks Margaret!), and to talk with the chief about all that we had seen. We made a small donation to the village, mainly to help with the completion of the school buildings, since from what we could see, this was a thriving happy place where there was definitely an abundance of food and opportunities for industry.
And now... the Temi Waterfall. "We may have to walk a little faster, the waterfall is about an hour and a half walk up the side of the mountain and we must keep time" Selah said.
I tried to act like I wasn't phased, but was. he. serious?
Quickening my pace, we walked through scenic and fragrant gardens, along banana-lined paths and across cultivated slopes. Little children in school uniforms stopped to stare at us or ask questions about who we were, while women with their head-loads would step kindly out of our way."Samahani" they would say, which in swahili means sorry. I found this ironic, since we were the ones that were more than likely an inconvenience to them. And then I heard the sound of rushing water... long before I saw it.
The Temi Waterfall stood some 85 ft above a small pool of clear, fresh water.
It was tumbling down with a peaceful force that kept me captivated. A small black and white cow grazed alone by the lush banks of the pool, perhaps annoyed that we had disturbed him and hoping we wouldn't stay too long. I took a seat on a smooth stone and looked up at the falls. An occasional spray of mist would touch my skin and I'd feel inspired to take a plunge. By now the sun was behind the mountain and the vibrant landscape appeared shadowed and sleepy. Together we traced our steps back through the village and set off, in a daze, back to the lodge. This was Africa. The most beautiful place I had ever seen. And in that moment I understood. There was no way that the European could have seen Africa and left her alone. Even now, after 500 years of their ravaging, she is still a mystical, amazing, dreamland. To have known her then..... I can only imagine.
NGORONGORO CRATER
$600 USD, give or take, will grant you and a loved one a private safari tour into Ngorongoro Crater, the proclaimed 8th world wonder.
The name Ngorongoro is an adaptation of the sound that the Maasai cow bells make. The Maasai people are/were the native settlers in and around the crater before the Europeans came. Now, by German and British decree, they have been barred from settling in the crater which is now a public attraction, bringing millions of tourist dollars to the government each year.
As a result, many of the Maasai have moved to the crater rim, or sadly, into developments and towns where it is almost impossible to continue their nomadic, pastoral lifestyle. Oftentimes as a result, much of their cultural lineage, traditions and language is lost.
The crater itself was formed by a volcanic eruption which caused the top of a mountain, rumored to be as tall as Kilimanjaro to blow off. The eruption, which took place some 3 million years ago, not only covered the Serengeti in ash, but made a depression in the earth that spans roughly 8, 000 squared kilometers and is home to countless species of birds and animals. And of course, on our visit, the entire cast of the Lion King stepped out to meet us in finest form.
We started our descent into the crater at about 10am and were met by some idle Zebras who neither acknowledged, nor even seem to notice that a huge Safari 4x4 was passing within inches of their congregation.
Maasai cows walked steadily toward familiar grazing grounds and wildebeests grunted and reared their legs.
Tired cheetahs lay panting atop a small mound, still playing with whatever meal they had tackled before we came.
It would take them about 3 days to digest and hunt again.
Several other safari jeeps were kicking up dust in the crater, but the animals were eerily acclimated to their presence and did not seem in the least bit annoyed.
Lionesses relaxed next to one of the crater's lakes, and hippos floated like muddy buoys, undisturbed by egrets perched on their backs. Our 4x4 bobbed and jerked through the roughly charted trails, zipping by the famous acacia trees and scattering flocks of colorful birds. Our driver made his best efforts to explain what everything was and to give us a brief history of all that we were seeing.
He graciously stopped at intervals to allow me to take some of my most memorable photographs.
One of which is the elusive
Black Rhino, a solitary animal that almost NEVER shows itself to tourists in the crater. I kept my eyes peeled for the mighty Tembo which is swhahili for elephant.
Unfortunately, due to the season and climate, they had already migrated out of the crater, possibly into the shady areas around neighboring Lake Manyara. Maybe next time.
We sat back and enjoyed the scenic drive past the salt lakes, buffalo, gazelle and flamingo. There are few that I know can say they visited Africa, let alone a world wonder in the continent that birthed humanity. I will definitely be back to Tanzania!
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