It takes a village….

I had such a great experience in Tanzania my first time.  Everyone was so nice, the guides, the porters, every local I came across.  I chalked it up to the fact that they are very dependent on tourism.  And they are, that’s true.  But I’m a cynical American.

Every morning on Kilimanjaro one of the kitchen staff would come to my tent and say, “Good morning, how did you sleep”, as they brought tea.  I’d say, fine, then say, how did you sleep?  They’d always say, “like a baby”.  Each meal we came to, each day when we entered camp after a day of hiking, they’d greet us with, “Karibu” which means Welcome. 

I always tried to make sure my belongings were packed when I went to breakfast so the porters could just gather everything.  But on the summit, I must admit, I left my sleeping bag unrolled and things in a bit of disarray.  No worries, they packed everything up just as usual.

On the way down from the summit I was certain I had blisters, so when I got to the lunch stop, I took of my boots and got my first aid kit out. There was my assistant guide, looking at my toes and putting on the bandaids.

Fast forward a year later when I returned to see if what I’d felt for my beloved was true.  I arrived at Kilimanjaro airport.  My biggest fear was that he wouldn’t be there.  My female friends who’d been with me as I struggled with what to do had assured me he’d be there.  My male friends were more cavalier.  So what if he’s not there, just enjoy the trip anyway! Or, just get back on the plane and come home!

I walked outside the airport with my bags, and he wasn’t there.  My heart sunk. I felt sick. All the drivers were there asking, “you need a ride?” I said no, my friend is coming for me. I waited there.  It seemed like an hour, but it was really about five minutes.  One of the guys approached and said, “You have his phone number, we can call him?” As I was getting my phone out to look up his number, he was there. I was so happy to see my mpenzi that I didn’t take the appropriate time to thank the man. 

There have been so many times since then that I realize these people operate in community.  We have traveled a couple of times to Zanzibar.  We are Christian, they are Muslim.  They have always embraced us.  More than embraced us, befriended us.

I’ve seen adults on public transportation (also called dala dala) sit a complete stranger’s children on their laps, and those same children fall fast asleep.  Once a little Muslim girl fell asleep on a stranger’s lap and her headscarf started to slip, and the young man holding her pulled it forward to keep her head covered.

So you see, there is so much to see and do in Tanzania.  The wildlife is extraordinary.  You’ll never see anything like it in your entire life.  Mount Kilimanjaro is majestic, and if you have the chance to reach the summit, you’ll never forget it.  But the country is so much more. The people and their generous, giving spirit are what separate it from almost everyone else in the world.