I landed early morning in Dar-es-Salaam on a Sunday morning and the first right turn out of the airport was stuck in this horrible traffic jam! I just couldn't understand what so many cars were doing, so early on a sunday morning! And people walking everywhere, some with firewood or perhaps going to church? So through roads filled with craters akin to the ones you see on the moon, we went in and out finally hitting the proper city. Exchanging money seemed like an affair you had to be cautious about. And ofcourse, its good to be cautious but people love to scare you about Africa. Its true horrible things happen, but when you know you have to live there for 2 months its not a good thing to be constantly living in fear. I mean hell, if im going to be robbed so be it! So i was smart about things but slowly my fears compounded by years of detailed atrocious stories of robberies and murders told by friends and relatives were washed away by the heavy clouds that burst right over me with warmth and affection of a people so simple and friendly.
I had never sat in anything smaller than an 737, atleast not that I could recollect. So the next morning at the domestic terminal I was ecstatic to see the largest plane on the tarmac was perhaps a 14 seater. They kept my luggage aside in the terminal building. I sat around, walked onto the tarmac, the morning air was beautiful and birds were feeding around. Nobody seemed to be going where I was. Everyone was bound for Zanzibar or the northern circuit (serengeti, ngorongoro, manyara). And then a man came and announced that my flight was leaving. So i walked onto the tarmac and the pilot was polite and considerate enough to warn me that it was a 2 hour flight and if i had to go to the toilet I should do it THEN. And ofcourse I didn't go. I mean how many times can someone go if they've been up only 3 hours?!!! But as murphy's law suggests, if something has to go wrong, it most definitely will. One and a half hours into the flight I could have passed out from the pressure. The situation was one of utmost urgency. And the Ruaha airstrip seemed like a distant dream. When we landed in Jongomero to pick up other guests I was ready to break open the doors and jump out of the moving plane. A tin door toilet behind a woody patch put an end to my dire misery.
Finally landed in Msembe, the airstrip located at the park headquarters. My new friend (1 hour 45 mins new), Gilles, encouraged me to look for elephants and crocodiles and hippos from the flight. He also made the flight extremely interesting telling me stories about the Africa he had known for 28 years and pointing down as we flew over areas telling me what was special about the place. Like the Military Base outside of Dar-es-salaam which was hit by a series of explosions (the ammunitions room caught fire) a few weeks earlier. The whole area looked like a blob of black from the air. Definitely another reminder of the seething corruption. And then the Udzungwa mountains, which were lush green and looked almost impenetrable (and much of the region is yet to be explored), this is where they discovered the primate and the small cat and other amphibians and reptiles. It definitely looked like the kind of forest that hid secrets. And the vast Selous Game Reserve on the left, the largest game reserve in Africa covering a massive 50,000 sq km.
So at Msembe i waited for the project guide/driver/man-friday to come and get me. Rowland is the quintessential Tanzanian man and safari guide. I waited 5 min until he got there with the warmest smile and most welcoming greetings. As we loaded my bags, we started conversing immediately!
Just out of the park the car stalled! and I finally felt welcomed. I felt like i was in Africa. But alas, it was just Rowland who had forgotten to fuel up the car. SO….. we sat in the bush waiting for our interpreter Julius to come by on his peke-peke with a large canister of fuel and then we continued to Chogela camp.
It was a beautiful quiet camp about 20 mins from the park gate. It had well constructed bandas (grass roofed structures) that housed well spaced tents below them. On entering Chogela i was welcomed by Rafiki , project musketeer, monitor lizard arch-enemy, clown, sandal snatcher and love hungry puppy; followed by volunteers Michelle and Sondra.
They would teach me the ropes of the project and beyond. More beyond.
My first day at project was quite eventful. As chogela was a public campsite there were, sometimes other guests as well. The day I arrived there was a group a Italian clowns and they were putting up a performance in Tungamalenga village. Im not sure I really wanted to go but i definitely didn't feel like hanging around by myself in camp so i walked with Sondra and Michelle, limping rafiki in tow to Tungamalenga. The first thing i noticed which is a reality that dawned on me later was that there were TONS of children in the village, the demographics were slightly skewed. Lots of children, many young adults, fewer mid aged adults and the sparse septuagenarian. The villagers were all very warm but still amused by our presence and it was definitely causing a great commotion amongst the children. They are always amused by muzungus (white person) but even my brown skin amazed them!! They would just come and crowd around and stare and smile, perhaps they expected me to do something spectacular, I must have been so disappointing.
When the clowns began their slap stick, clumsy acts the villagers all crowded around. It was so apparent how much joy and gaiety there was in the air. What a noble act to spread cheer and happiness!! And this is what they did as a profession. They all performed independently in Italy but once a year they formed into a group and chose one country to take their acts to. And they always chose interiors, tiny villages, the capillaries of the land. I remember one clown telling me that this is what he did in Italy too. He went to hospitals and performed for terminally ill children and he did this because he didn't care about money, this is what made him happy and made his life meaningful. I thought it was such a beautiful way to live. I mean at the end of one's life, how many people can really look back and say they have lived, truly lived. I mean, made a difference profoundly in someone else's life? and what is the point of life if we exist only for ourselves, for our selfish motives. I mean we are selfish in everything we do. Even if you do something for someone you care about, a friend, a lover, a brother, a father, a mother, it is still selfish. But how many people at the end of their journey really say they did something profoundly unselfish, something born out of pure, true love?
''To be able to look back upon ones life in satisfaction, is to live twice'' - Khalil Gibran.
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