The Importance of Being Naive.

The only way to live is to be naive. That is the only way in which you can truly live.

We must be naive to everything. In naiveté there is loss of fear. To be like a flower blossoming to the sun, to the rain, to the wind, to the bees. Unknowing of the next moment, of the consequence. Having no need to know how it will end. Living in the now is naive living. It is the only way to experience the richness of life, the plethora of its multitude.

In naivete there is no fear. There is absence of rules and paths, you know nothing and that is what makes you fearless, like a bird plunging into the air on its first flight.

Sometimes there is failure but even that is beautiful and it is your own.

Conditioning destroys naivete and the possibilities of life. When we approach something with an idea, notion or knowledge we approach its past. We do not allow it to present itself in its full capability. But if we approach life afresh, we approach it intelligently, with heart. We have to unlearn too much. We know more than we should and that knowing kills the spontaneity of life. It kills the blossoming of intelligence. It stains love with fear, it aborts chance before it can be born, it blots the chastity of everything sacred and what is more sacred than life itself?

Forget what they told you about risk. Forget what they told you about living. Forget what they told you about love. Forget it all. There is nothing to learn about these things. These things are not learnt, they are lived from moment to moment, from second to second. To learn about life is to halt a stream. Fall into the abyss of the unknown, let the draft of life carry you. To live life is to surrender control and trust the current of its waters to carry you to the vast sea's of its richness. To live life in the knowledge of culture or traditions of society is to deny its gift to you. In being naive there is a feeling of understanding god. In the loss of memory of fear there is robust love and a beautiful curiosity. There is amazement. Amazement at the shape of a cloud, the colour of the water, the form of a rock, the feel of earth.

Forget who you are or who you will be. Live life spontaneously, humbly, unknowing. Surrender your conditioning and fears to the power of truth that life is.

Be naive.

Truth vs. Belief

I always had a questioning mind and since a young age I visited the theosophical colony and at its far end stared at the emblem and inscribed words "there is no religion higher than truth". While it sounded very profound and the sort of thing i would want to say to someone in an intellectual conversation when i was older, it took me 26 years to begin to understand what "truth" really is.

What is truth and how many truths can there be?

I felt that there could be many truths and it could be an idea or notion that you held in your opinion to be real. This meant that 6 billion people could have their own truths. The visionary his, the crusader his, the teacher his, the soldier his, the pauper his, the victorious his, the dying his, the rapist his, the repenter his. Is what they hold the truth or is it a belief?

What we perceive becomes our belief. Truth is independent of belief like the sun independent of earth, moon or venus. The sun shines unknowing and irrespective. Thus truth prevails, undaunted. 

A belief is the summary of our doubts and assertions. It is sometimes wavering and sometimes frigid. Belief changes with time and changes with perception. Belief is infact the antipode of truth. The truth cannot change with time or perception. The truth cannot be moulded or created. The truth cannot be planted in the subconscious or taught to the learner. Truth is only ever realized. But a belief can be planted or indoctrinated. Like the belief is santa claus when one is young. The belief in equality when one is older. And the world knows that these are lies. But they are beliefs to many. However, they are not the truth. To have a belief itself means, to have faith. Faith is only had in the unknown or the unseen. Faith is something we create to sooth our anxieties and fears. Faith is not real. The truth is real, because it exists. At one end of faith, on the very tip of faith lies the seed of doubt. Faith can be easily grown into doubt and we all have known this. Having the faith that an exam went well, having the faith that a business deal will be monetized, having the faith that god will answer your prayers; and then something turns this faith to doubt. It is because we chase beliefs and never inquire about the truth. Truth that is a certain as - itself. Nothing is higher than truth.

Love, compassion, humility are all synonyms of truth. When we truly love free from fear or ownership, free of pain or doubt, free of need or hurt we realize that we do not believe we love. We do not have faith in love. We come to realize love. And that is knowing the truth. When we really feel compassion not out of pity, not out of the need to become better people, not to redeem our sins, not to feel better about ourselves; but when we have compassion because that it the essence, the plasma of any intelligent being, because that it automatic and not planted like a belief or cause to be compassionate, we are truly compassionate. When we are humble, not to our elders or to the weak, when we are humble not in our mistakes or our success, but humble to the force of nature, humble towards the powerless fledgling or a delicate sapling, when we are humble to the the gush or a stream or the whisper of a breeze, not humble so that we do not seem rude or non appreciative, then we in our humility towards life have unknowingly realized truth.

Truth therefore is quite singular and steadfast. It is everything to those who know it and its idea non-existent to those who rely on beliefs. It is timeless and faceless, as liquid as the air yet as grounded as a rock. It is stoic and exists without the need for discovery. It exists just because. If there is one thing that is holy in our realms of understanding and realization, it is not our beliefs in Jesus or Allah or Krishna or Mahavir. It is the truth that is most holy. 

And no amount of chasing it or dreaming of it can bring you closer to it. But if we can love without wanting or have compassion without fear or self-soothing or be humble because we realize that the thread that ties lives is the same and no different for man or woman, the rich or poor, the hungry or the satiated we can live truly. 

I am not a theosophist because i do not follow a system or religion. I do not love other human beings or creatures because the religion tells me. I do not know somethings as a result of this religion asking me to believe. I know what i have realized and the rest is cast in belief. I am not so realized yet and I cannot say I have really accepted truth. But i do see it and I approach it shedding the years of beliefs and faith. And in every drop of truth is the sweet nectar of life. Life is truth. Love is truth. Compassion is truth. I do not see this because i am a theosophist, I am a theosophist because I see this. And somehow i have this profound realization, I recognize it because it is the sort of thing you recognize when you see it. I see that the truth is absolute and so is everything that stands for truth. Love, compassion, humility. The nucleus of truth is the matter from which explodes the infinite boundary of life. 

The busyness of Life

The most rewarding aspect of living and working in a world biosphere reserve and world heritage site is being able to get lost in it when the chance presents itself.

Contrary to what most people would say about areas such as the Serengeti and Ngorongoro and being able to get lost in such a visited place, there are areas where few tourists ever go and roads that few people ever traverse.

And also, can we ever get lost unless we allow the mind to live outside of the known?

The Masais don't have roads. They go where the pastures are green and the landscape allows them. There is no restriction on a path they choose, in their minds or hearts. They remember their roads by rocks and stones, a twisted tree, the horizon and the dust of the ground. Roads are the creation of a "civilized" race that has learned to live so curbed. Our fearful minds need support to steer us in the right direction. Not a wrong turn here, not a divergence there. Fearing getting lost and perhaps thereby, being found?

I haven't unfortunately embarked on any such great travels or travails. But I have seen some beautiful panoramas that made me feel like I was a part of them, their existence, their moment in evolution. A part of that blue sky and the grey, cotton fluffed clouds. That my breath mingled with the air pregnant with moisture. I was a part of the dust so red and a soil so black and heavy. I was a part of the hills and their solitude. A part of the wildebeest and their smells and the cheetah's resting so beautifully, unexpectant of any passer by in the shade of the acacia. I was a part of the wisdom and the naiveté. A part of life.

There are stories buried in the sands of this land. There are footsteps one can follow. Hidden in the sounds of silence are the whispers of evolution. There is an aloneness but no loneliness, a feeling that in being lost, there is a discovery. There is love. A love for not a person or a thing or a place. A love for the force so humbling. You are love. There is beauty in being away from the known and seeing something that only you will see. The stare of the Elands at the water, the notice of the Wildebeest a-grazing. The purple flowers that have bloomed in the recent rain and the remains of death on the soil. No one else will see the flowers in that moment, in that second. No one else will see the same Eland with the same stare. No one will hear the gnus the same way and no one will see the column of rain on the horizon from my spot. No one will see the keyhole of light in the clouds or the way the mountains and hills looked in that moment. Because tomorrow it will be different. There will be death and thus renewal. The land is alive. And it makes me alive.

There is great pleasure in not knowing and in the not knowing is the discovery of everything; in the alone path is the company of realization.

It is in the uninhabited land where there is the busyness of life.

Down time and Fun Trips.

Getting everything to work and fall into place and stay there until the day arrives for the plan to be realized can be somewhat wishful thinking. You don't plan, Africa plans for you! :)

Taking 11 villages into the park meant selecting 110 people every month, planning dates, dodging between 2 camps, charging phones, laptops, electronics (always a MAJOR problem as electricity is very difficult to find) spending enough time in Iringa to fuel up, develop photos and stock up on food and other essentials can be unnerving sometimes. Especially when weeks or days of prior planning suddenly seem to evaporate with one car breakdown, or an extra day needed at the fundi (handyman, but in this case the mechanic) or the ATM machine allowing us to withdraw the right amount. SO ….. we were often left with down-time when things needed to be fixed or schedules were reworked for whatever reason.

It was definitely nicer to be in Chogela camp than in Pawaga if you had downtime. At chogela you could go to Tungamalenga, sit in the tin bar, or at camp there was always someone to shadow and observe if you were tired reading your book or writing your journal. And sometimes we hiked to Ruaha Hilltop Lodge. A tiny lodge, very modest, perched on a hill with the most breath-taking vistas I have ever seen.

It was a 45-60min hike one way and once I made a detour through a masai boma. A very dirty place filled with smiling masai women and children and goats and sheep. One of them even walked with us back to the main road so that we wouldn't lose our way.

at the masai boma

And then a short uphill climb on a rough jagged path landed us at hilltop lounge. On the way we often saw Hyena spoor and it was great leopard country. Once a couple of dazzled Kudu sprinted right in front of us as we were ascending up to Hilltop.

We were always the only ones there and they made us a lunch of chips, salad and sauteed veggies with a nice tomato sauce. And there was olive oil and balsamic :) We would sit there all afternoon listening to music, writing, reading, talking, joking, drinking beers or whatever. It was a great place for reflection, contemplation and introspection.

view from hilltop

We also did fun trips in the park. Which meant just the volunteers and rowland (other staff were welcome and once we even had ex volunteers join us). It was great because we would spend long hours seeing the things we wanted and exploring areas we had never been to before. We would break for lunch at Msembe (park headquarters) where there was a mess for the staff. And even go to our favorite breakfast point and just lie on the rocks and nap while elephants grazed around and socialized. Fun trips were wonderful.

We even stayed in the park on two occasions. The first time for a night at Mdonya Old River Camp, when my friend Gilles (who managed the place) invited Michelle, Rachel and l out for a small party he was having with friends from Dar-es-Salaam. It was lovely meeting people who we could converse with without using hand-signals and animation. And some of us sat around the fire till late into the night under a blanket of stars talking about Africa, adventure and traveling. Gilles told us many interesting stories and even offered to take us for a small walk in the forest surrounding the camp. So armed with a torch we walked thought the forest watching impala and zebra foraging. The place was alive in darkness! We saw so many bush babies too. Lesser bush babies. Soon after we returned from our walk we heard lions roaring not far away. So exciting to know that they were so close. It was so interesting to walk thought the bush, very different fro being in the car. The sights and smells are mch more magnified.

The next morning we departed and spotted a leopard on the way out! My first and only glimpse of this abundant (relatively) but elusive cat in the 2 months i spent in Ruaha.

rain at Mdonya

On another occasion Michelle, Rachel, Kylie and I went back on easter weekend to spend 2 nights at Mdonya. The first evening Gilles took us to a dry river with an icebox filled with beer. We sat at the bank, watching the sky turn into a myriad of colours as the sun set and listened to the birds chattering and the night jars all came out. We heard lions too. What a beautiful sunset! and once it got dark we returned to camp after making a short detour in the hope of catching a glimpse of the lions we had heard a few minutes earlier. That night lions roared very close to camp and they continued until the early morning hours. In the morning we packed our lunch and departed on a full day game drive through an area we had never been to. The tsetse flies were abundant and really attacked us in certain areas. We stopped on a escarpment and climbed to the top to a beautiful view of the park and beyond. It was a lovely morning. Driving on we discovered 4 female lionesses in a swampy area observing giraffes. It was a beautiful area and we were for miles the only vehicle out. That day we spotted 21 lions and lots of elephants. The last pride we saw had made a giraffe kill and had devoured it and were resting in the river bed. It was a magical moment. On our way back to Mdonya, we almost ran over an old lion from the Mdonya pride. Poor boy was stunned and jumped to the side. That night too lions roared very very close. In the morning before we left we were joined by Charlie the elephant at breakfast. He shook the acacia tree vigorously and then collected the fruit and pods that fell to the ground. He ventured very close to us and we spent a long time looking at him before we departed. He expressed his warmth and excitement at our presence through a series of elephant farts. :)

the poor old lion we almost ran over!

It was an exciting, beautiful weekend (or was it even a weekend?…. hmmmmmmm).

On our fun trips i realized how much I had grown to love Ruaha. It wasn't like the Serengeti or Ngrongoro that instantly work their charm on you. Ruaha had grown on me….

And it continues….

Pawaga Camp.

Pawaga Camp was the other camp that belonged exclusively to the project. It was set up by project staff. Situated about 2.5 hours from the Park gate, it was quite far but concentration of villages around this area made it necessary for project to set up camp here.

Pawaga camp is situated right on a small meander of the Little Ruaha river. Through tropical rainforest, dusty roads and many villages later, you reach Pawaga though a maze of fields. One tent houses the kitchen, storage and staff sleeping area (which was actually the volunteer sleeping area, but a dysfunctional zipper allowed snakes and scorpions and bugs inside, hence the volunteers, in my time there, moved to the boss' tent) and the volunteer tent which was pitched under a band. (actually the boss' tent).

kitchen and staff tent

The view from my tent in Pawaga was unbelievable. I awoke to the most beautiful sunrises and farmers working the fields in the distance. The days were spent organizing camp, sorting staff issues, planning logistics and ofcourse dealing with research data. Park days were long, starting at 5 am and ending at around 9 or 10 as reaching the park gate from Pawaga took 2.5 hours one way even though the park boundary was no more than 20kms away.

Days at camp were wonderful. The remoteness and independence of this camp meant that we had to do/overlook everything ourselves. A camp helper assisted with cooking, cleaning and other chores. We would ration the food and supplies and would constantly be teaching the helper how to go about things. Turns out the boy who was first there when i got to pawaga was a thief. He was caught stealing from Michelle and also ripped the project off of a good 100 odd dollars. Sadly, he left us no choice but to fire him. We learned that things and money had gone missing in the past and he was also suspected of trying to sell off the solar panel!!! (it went missing and then when Sarah, project head/boss, announced a reward, it was mysteriously found!!). He was making a good living for himself, much more than the average village man's earnings, so it was unfortunate that he got so tempted. He was replaced by another very sweet girl, who was eager to learn, but English was a slight impediment. Once she left, Asha, an extremely competent woman took over. She was enterprising and smart. Meals definitely got fancier and more elaborate. She became a friend quickly and her good conversational skills made it much easier. She had worked as a translator with the WCS and on the same project earlier. She told me a lot about how it was for an average African woman. She was still studying at university and lived in Iringa (main town around Ruaha). She rented a small room there and lived there during university days. She had a baby girl that she left with her mother in the village and her boyfriend was working in Saadani Game Reserve. It was very inspiring to see such a hard working, intelligent young woman, determined to make something for herself. She was studying gender issues and the role of women and womens rights.

asha

Mornings in Pawaga were spent reading a book or writing a journal sitting on a chair facing the river and the reeds. There was always so much activity in the morning in the reeds. Weaver birds in their hundreds chattered as they feed on seeds and insects. Crocodiles basked in the sun on days the river didn't engulf the banks. We always had to be careful fetching water from the river (until we got a manually operated mechanical water pump) and this water was used for everything from cooking, bathing, cleaning to drinking. Once i had procrastinated enough and spent enough time chatting with Asha or reading/writing I began project work and continued late into the afternoon, breaking only for lunch and shower.

shower

Using the toilet in Pawaga always made me anxious. And we were later told that spitting cobras were often seen there and recently many baby spitters were spotted there.

toilet

One evening Sondra was walking back from our tent when she suddenly started screaming. She had almost stepped on a spitting cobra and it was very agitated. Not knowing what to do in a situation like that, she slowly began to back off shouting across the short grassy patch asking what to do, but even as she retreated unsure of where to throw the light, the snake rose high above the ground and let slightly forward. Felisto and Rowland ran into the darkness to try and help her. Felisto almost stepped on the snake and it retaliated by spitting venom that missed his eye and landed on his hands. Rowland then came with a big stick of wood and killed the snake. It was so so sad. I mean we were the intruders here and all it did was be alarmed. But snakes are always killed in these places. It was so surprising to learn that villages did not stock anti-venom as it was expensive and had a very short shelf life. Hence, snakes were feared and were killed on sight. Sadly, this one was beaten to death and thrown into the river. It made me feel so sorry for the snake. However, this was not the first time a spitter had been around. And after i left they discovered one large spitting cobra that had made its home under the kitchen tent!! And in my time there, i saw another spitter and a baby puff adder. Clearly a lovely place for venomous snakes!!

Evenings, weren't always filled with drama like this. On most evenings, we sat under the stars, the volunteers, camp helper, night askari Juma, Rowland and sometimes Julius and Felisto, all eating dinner together and having a beer or wine sometimes. It was beautiful because the moonlight was all we had besides the one lamp we got later. We laughed and exchanged stories until it was time to sleep. And then the balmy air made it too hot to sleep comfortably in the tent. When it rained, it was wonderful; everything cooled down and a lovely breeze passed through the tent mesh-windows.

Rafiki also provided much entertainment in camp and often had friends over.

I was definitely very sad to leave this beautiful camp i preferred in many ways over Chogela.

view from my tent (sunrise)

The Villages.

The villages were beautiful. Not because they were built beautifully or were always in fantastic locations (even though most of them were) but because the people in the villages were so friendly and welcoming.

Ive seen villages in India too and i often compared what i saw in my country with what I saw in tanzania. The stark difference was the genuine warmth without motive. They welcomed us without any motive of making money or gaining anything from us. Everyone waved out and greeted us with "mambo, vipi" or "habari", "habari gain" etc….and the children came running to greet. This didn't happen in India. People always seem suspicious and aloof in India. And the children never begged. Sometimes they asked for candy. The warmth and welcoming spirit of the villagers was really exudative.

Most houses were made from mud and grass and had an earth-pit toilet detached from the main structure. Some of the richer households had brick structures, flowering shrubs and an outhouse for the livestock. Each village had a village office where the "chairman" of the village, usually a man with some kind of political and social standing, presided over issues pertaining to the village. I once overheard a committee travailing over a personal matter. The husband was complaining that his wife (I forget for what reason) was hurling all sorts of verbal abuses and it was obvious that it had caused much hurt to his ego. The matter was settled when the committee decided that she pay a fine of 6000 or perhaps 4000 shillings (3/4 USD) to her husband. Some villages had a dedicated bar which served cold beer and Fantas and Cokes and even served food made by other village mamas like beans, rice, chips and andazi and chapati.

village office

Little dukas (shops) sold everything from Coca-cola to condoms. Condoms are heavily advertised in this part of the world. And sex, its implications, importance and ignorance of, is rampantly discussed, dissected and distributed (as advice and acts). I was surprised to understand what a promiscuous society it is. Multiple partners is the norm.

One day a villager asked me if I had a boyfriend and then asked me if i was married. When i said I wasn't married she asked me if i had children. I though she was joking or didn't understand that i wasn't married, so i asked Rowland, our guide and driver to clear up the confusion. He told me that she knew i wasn't married but that was inconsequential. She then told me she had 2 children from 2 different men and she wasn't married and was only 21. This was commonplace. Her parents didn't mind and they supported the children but told her that if she had anymore without a man promising to support them they would probably throw her out to fend for herself.

This was in stark contrast to the amount of advertising I had seen for contraception. Sex is far from being taboo! Its is on the surface and you see it everywhere. African women, i found were very comfortable with their sexuality. It was apparent in their dressing and behavior. The men too, were always teasing the girls and for them to be married and have multiple partners is nothing exceptional.

An ad by Salama condoms even had a tagline which translates into " if you really love her, you will protect her". Aaaaaahhhhhh, alas!! . No wonder there are so many children everywhere. EVERYWHERE. And of course life expectancy must be quite low as you hardly see any old people. They are a rarity.

Felisto, our project translator and a friend, told me how AIDS was rampant in most villages and he said that sometimes 30-50% of the village had HIV!!!! I found that hard to believe but even if not, im guessing the percentage must still be quite high.

Felisto also provided us with a ghastly story of a village sorcerer who killed little children and was eventually brutally murdered by one of the parents whose children he had murdered. He spoke of cults where ill, old people believed that killing young people would cure them of their illness and hence when the word was out that any of such people, rumored to be a pat of the cult, were ill, no one went to visit for fear of being turned into some kind of voodoo sacrifice. The gory details of the story kept Sondra up at night but I was kept awake by a cute mouse who was nibbling on something right above my head. Much more disturbing than the Makifu child killer!

One time, I was in a village doing interviews and while I was still finishing my last few villagers I noticed a young boy very intrigued hanging around the village office door. He was peering in trying to see what the commotion was all about. He was perhaps 12 or 13. He was also very eager to get his picture taken with my camera that Rowland had. Once we were done, I asked Rowland what was going on and he told me he was a Barabaig boy who wanted his picture taken. When we were sitting in the car to leave he came to my side and just smiled, I was wondering how old he was and I asked Rowland to ask him. When Rowland asked him, he pasued for a moment to think and then said "2 years". While it sounded really funny, he looked really serious. What hit me was how simple life was, there was no concept of time because life was what it should be, filled with acts that define it, not measured in hours, minutes and seconds. He probably grazed his cattle in the bush all day and came back and helped with chores. He definitely did not go to school. That was life for him. What did time have anything to do with it? Why was there need to know what day it was, what hour it was, and how many of these made a year….. The sun rose and the sun set and there were things to do, thats all that mattered. How simple, how wild, how beautiful…………………..

barabaig boy below

Another very interesting fact is that when two people want to marry (and now-a-days the choice of partner is made by the youngsters themselves) the man must collect dowry to pay the wife's parents. If he cannot collect it, he cannot marry her. This was in contrast to what is apparent in my society. I also understand the social/cultural implications of this and why it exists. Either way, both are archaic and should be abolished. However, that cannot happen until a psychological and conscientious evolution occurs.

Ruaha with the Villagers.

In the park, a lot of time was spent looking and the villagers clicking away (with the camera's we had provided them) at lions and giraffes, the elephants and their calves. The bulls trying to show their machoism by trumpeting and mock charging us and our poor landy sometimes petrified refused to start when we needed her most to react!

like the massive bull below, too close for comfort!

In some groups, the villagers were all very chattery and filled to the brim with excitement and wonder and other days the groups were shy and reserved. The ones that really tested my patience were the groups where every mama had one baby in tow. And by baby i mean infant - the age when they cry for anything and everything and you must use your intelligence and figure out as soon as possible what the baby wants, unless you prefer going deaf and/or insane and thereby eliminating such issues from your life forever. And sometimes they pooped and the mama's would have to wait until we got to a spot where they could alight and change the baby's clothes. Until then the rover would be intoxicated with the lingering smell of baby poop. Such accidents happened rarely, but they did. And I would give Rowland the look and then stick my head out of the window and try and fool myself into smelling the beautiful aroma of the grass and dust.

The most vivid memories for me are the faces of the villagers when we'd meet the first thing in the morning. The look of anticipation on their faces, the excitement for the day ahead and the smiles, like a child on its way to a toy store, or starting a day of fun and frolic….a picnic! They would usually be dressed in their best clothes, the men in their choicest shirts and pants, the young boys in their most impressionable hip-hopish avatars and the women is their newest kangas and kitenges with heels and sometimes make up. It really made me hope that I could show them things they probably had never seen before, or plant a seed of interest that would grow into a seedling of questions and would be parched thirsty to know more, to discover, to understand. I mean this park was more theirs than anybody elses. So was everything that it contained. And without interest, there can be no way of understanding and without understanding there would be conflict and they would loose what was theirs. I mean it was already happening; conflict with the authorities, with the wildlife, with their own interests.

I remember hearing about a lion that was killed in Tungamalenga village just a few days before i arrived. He was killing livestock and the farmer had to put an end to it. The lion was a pest, taking away the only source of income and livelihood from a man who had probably children and a wife to feed and sustain. And then a leopard who was baited and killed for the same reason. When i was younger I could not understand why they would kill the animal. They were the ones infringing on the animals territory. But today I understand that conservation must be synonymous with compassion. Mechanisms must compensate and include the communities that face these issues. There has to be upliftment of these communities or else conservation will never fulfill its purpose the way we want it to.

Which is why projects like these are extremely important.

One day in the park a lady villager, confused, asked her friend on seeing a lion, "is that a dog?" and her friend told her that it was "simba" and not a dog. She had never seen a lion before, never in books or pictures or in flesh. How was she to know?!! This is the level of ignorance that exists where knowledge is needed most. And it's not their fault. I found it rather unbelievable, but it was true. Or when we told them about the social structure and behavior of lions, elephants or the impalas, they were so amused and I could tell they were interested. This was re-established when we did their interviews and they recalled things they had learnt. Most importantly, almost all of them seemed to understand that the park provided them with some kind of benefit in one way or another. Either the park authorities financed village school projects, or help renovate village offices, or even built small dispensaries and hospitals. And the windfall economics of tourism ofcourse.

Another beautiful moment in the park was lunch time. We always stopped at such beautiful serene locations.

Everyone would lunch in peace and rest before continuing on our journey. And the villagers would often ask questions about the ways of the west, or about me in particular, or often about love and relationships in western culture. And they would share stories with me. What amazing memories! Sometimes elephants would be around, walking in the river bed with their young, or drinking from an almost diminished streamlet. It often rained around lunch and the park would suddenly be reborn. Rain in the Ruaha can be so spectacular!

So park trips for me contained the excitement of watching wildlife (sometimes ours, being the only vehicle in the whole park) and interactions with villagers who were learning things that day that they never knew and seeing things they had never seen. And the most heart-rendering moments were those when one of them wanted a picture with me and the look on their faces when we were returning home, so fulfilled and satisfied. You could tell they had had a great day. And some of them overcome with their gratitude often hugged me and thanked me many times for the day. It was such a humbling feeling.