Africa, here we come! Some things are worth waiting for and this journey into the heart of Africa was certainly one of those things. Years ago, when I was still in college and very interested in sociology and anthropology I saw a slide show on very poor children, mainly orphans, from somewhere in Africa. I cried my eyes out and was supposing there would not be a dry eye in the room. I was wrong. Everyone just went on chatting as if that was normal. So, in the course of time I too forgot about the children in this far away land, until years later, I was to read the handwritten letters from Gloria Hanson about the horror of what her husband Ron saw when he was in Rwanda during the Civil war between the Hutus and Tutsis. Then the tears came back afresh.
To make a long story short regarding the Hanson's. Ron was Michael's math instructor in college and he invited his students to Bible studies. Michael declined but after he became a Christian he became reacquainted with Ron who in the interim had moved with his wife and two young sons to Eastern Africa. That was thirty years ago that he left. Currently his sons' families are still there co-laboring with Ron and Gloria in their heart for Eastern Africa to know the love of Jesus and to bring running water through the Africa Oasis Project to remote villages by drilling a well on or near the church property (another project) that would supply water often for thousands of nationals where it was not uncommon for the women to walk up to ten kilometers to carry back again in buckets on their heads. Thus, we were invited to join the Hanson's in Tanzania for the most exciting and heart wrenching journey of our lives. So here goes the story.
A twelve year old boy, named Christian along with his 16 year old sister, Hannah and parents, Michael and Patricia(that's me) boarded a plane for the first leg of the journey~England. Michael had not been to his homeland for many years gone by so this was his opportunity to visit his relatives and friends throughout the UK. Michael loved (and didn't we all) the lush green farmland dotted with sheep, stone hedges and old, very old cottages. It was a dream come true and a marvelous way to start out our journey. There were a few glitches in that British Airways went on strike and we were left to their mercy as to when and where we would land in Eastern Africa.Africa at last
So as the story unfolds we landed in South Africa where there was much ado about the World Cup and from there went on a rather turbulent flight, which was frightening to me as we were tossed about in every direction. Before we even ascended, the first bad omen was that the engine door was left wide open, although we were already “buckled up for safety.” Michael, fortunately spotted it from his window and urgently insisted that I inform the flight attendants to alert the pilot of imminent danger. After a hushed apology and excuse, our flight to Dar was delayed, but I kept thinking to myself, “better late than never.” Before landing the pilot casually announced that the air landing lights were off on the runway, but no problem as we would veer around and land in the back of the landing field.
My first introduction to Dar was a wave of heat and humidity as we exited the airplane and entered a small, dimly lit airport and immediately started filling out our forms for customs. After waiting in a long line a large, serious customs agent took our passports and money. He pocketed Michael's (who was traveling on a British passport) and gave the rest of the money to the official registrar. A Mennonite couple standing in line next to us were quite reluctant to hand over their cash and passports, but I encouraged them to just go with the flow. It was refreshing to leave the dingy building and to be warmly greeted by our host Ron who heartily greeted the four of us with bear like hugs and a beautiful bouquet of flowers from his wife Gloria. Now driving through Dar in the dark evening on a busy night was another story in itself. But let's just say that it was breathtaking at times as we swerved in and out of traffic, mainly old dilapidated buses and cars. Pedestrians, young and old, swarmed both sides of the road way and it was apparent that they did not have the right of way. Michael sat in the passenger seat on the left side of the car as the wheel is on the right, British style. I chuckled in the back seat of the Toyota Land Cruiser, as I noticed that he was sitting on his hands. Little did he know that he would be sitting on his hands for another three thousand kilometers as this was the best and easiest part of our trek through Africa.I felt a huge sigh of relief when Ron pointed to one of the few finished existing high rises in the capital, indicating that was home. We bounced through dozens of huge pot holes on the narrow dirt laden roads, still lined with people sitting or standing in the twilight outside of their mud and grass huts. Children played along the road as if it were still the middle of the day. Ron honked his horn (which we were to discover he did frequently throughout our travels) and the guard hastily opened and closed the gate while we parked on real cement and made our way up on the elevator to the eighth floor. Gloria welcomed us to a late meal and her delicious homemade pastries. It was like being back in America with all the comforts of home. But this was a short lived sensation as the sounds in Dar were not like the familiar sounds back home. As we were warned, throughout the night, I listened to the heartrending cries and wailings of young children from the opened window hospital facing directly below our window. Mosquitoes made their way in, in spite of the long distance flight upward to our room. At five a.m. we were sharply awakened again by the loud chants throughout the city of the worshippers of allah. In the heat of the early morning dogs barked, cars and buses screeched and the city buzzed with workers attired in various styles of bright clothing from the veiled women to the children dressed in uniforms. Men and women from various tribes, marked by their bright tapestries wrapped around them carried wood, water, or other items to their place of out door work along the busy streets. I was definitely experiencing culture shock. Hannah and Christian were up and eating a scrumptious pancake, bacon and egg breakfast and acted like they didn't have a worry in the world. Ron told us our first adventure into the bush would be to visit a village church that was predominately Maasai families from the area.
Maasai Village
This was to be one of the first amazing highlights of our trip to Tanzania. A few hours after takeoff we entered the village hidden off the well used trails that the Land Cruiser sped through irregardless of the scrabbly grassland and thorn bushes that dotted the apparently impassable path. (The thorns were two inches in length and used as toothpicks in fine restaurants throughout the country.) We were warmly greeted by the national pastors and their flock of worshipers. The Maasai tribe were donned in bright colors of cloth and gathered around and greeted us as if they knew us. “Bwana asafiwe” was the traditional welcome. “The Lord bless you”, in which we replied “Amena.” We shook their dark brown hands and I noticed that our skin looked very pale in comparison. The children were as curious about us especially Christian being a child and a red head, as were about them. A meal was prepared (butchered) for us in an open aired hut. Barbecued beef and chicken and beans were served to us in a small adobe hut. The women poured water from a plastic pitcher over our hands into a basin and then we prayed a prayer of thanksgiving for the meal that was lovingly prepared for us. In the church service in the large open window brick building we sang songs of praise as the Maasai danced in their traditional style up and down the aisles and in the front of the church. It was really beautiful and touching to sing and worship the Lord with such a vibrant and joyful people. It made me want to cry and I thought of how glorious it will be when all the tribes (including the Gents) are gathered together before the throne room of Heaven. Ron introduced us and Michael gave the sermon which was translated into Swahili by one of the pastors. This greeting from the nationals was to be repeated many more times as we trekked thousands of miles into Tanzania.
Meeting the Children
One village that stands out the most to me was another small village tucked away in the middle of no where that even the guide had a difficult time directing us. As usual we were going to meet the pastor and his family and to see the wells that were put in, or were going to be drilled on the church property, for the use of the community. Again, as usual flocks of children gathered around us as we gestured (opposite of our hand motion) to “come here.” The children of all ages are always exceedingly polite and Hannah and I always started the greeting, “Bwana Asa Fiwe”, in which they immediately responded “Amena,” if they were Christians. If they were Muslims, and didn't respond, we would say “Gina laka nani?” which meant “What is your name?” This would guarantee the beginning of hundreds of handshakes and smiles. It was always heartwarming and we fell in love with each and every child. But again this one particular village (I believe it was the Wagogo tribe) was very different for two apparent reasons. The first was that they did not wear any of the traditional school uniforms that the children wore throughout the nation. This appeared to mean that there was not a school or teacher in this remote village. A teacher's salary was at most three dollars a day. The children wore torn, ragged western style shirts and trousers or skirts. The only way I could tell a young boy from a girl was the skirt as they all had closely shaved heads. A few of the young children had babies strapped to their backs and most of the children had flies buzzing around their eyes, as their goopey eyes were infected. They had thick layers of dirt on their skin and clothes. The second obvious difference from the other villages was there were no parents to be seen anywhere. One toothless, ancient looking Mama greeted us and next to the dear pastor's wife, this was it. No wonder they seemed so glad to see Gloria, Hannah and me. The pastor's wife said that their congregation was nearly all children. I am sure that she was their village Mama and was very loved by the children. When we drove away the crowd of fifty or so children ran as long as they could behind the vehicle with their hands outstretched. This is a memory that will forever be embedded in my mind and prayers. My one consolations was knowing that they had clean well water and an existing church to welcome them.
Trip to Iringua and the Ruaha National Park
Traveling from one village or town to another was quite exciting and I
didn't want to miss one moment of staying awake as I took in the scenes around me. Our goal was to visit Mama Simba and Mama Helen's orphanage and bring dresses, and gifts to the children. Of course, this is again a whole other story as spending time with the loved children in these well kept homes was so encouraging. Christian enjoyed giving the children of all ages, toothbrushes, pencils, paper....He watched the children play soccer and was impressed how far a ball made of tightly bound plastic bags could go. The children also sung songs of praise to the Lord for us and prayed for our well being. They sing not only in harmony but in parts, so one feels like they are listening to a professional children's choir, only their is no choir master. It is a gift to be seen throughout Africa.
First off, I must say hats off to Christian and Hannah who un- begrudgingly sat in the very rear of the cruiser to allow pastors to join us on the journey. Not once did I hear a complaint, but I did hear a few groans as they were jostled about when we flew over pot holes and made our own trails through the dry, thick shrubs. Typically one can see out the window grasslands, corn fields, and the famous baobab trees. The rainy season is over but huge culverts cross the roads and trails so the water can drain from one side of the road to the other. Most of the country is without running water or electricity so the land is bare of poles and wires that are typical of a wealthy nation. Herds of cows, sheep and goats wander by on both sides of the road and often stand stationary right in the middle. This is where Ron's infamous HONK comes in handy. Young children in their colorful attire herd the cattle with a stick or a weapon. Donkeys pull the small carts loaded with sticks and women are seen tending the corn fields, gathering food and firewood, and hauling water, often on their heads in large plastic buckets. As we get closer to the villages small mud huts with grass and manure huts dot the roadway and children play outside (as there really is no inside to play in) running about or sitting in the dirt. The children often stop playing and wave and smile. As we drive past the village into Barabite country Babu informs us that the Barabites are still considered a ferocious tribe. No sooner does he make this casual remark, that I see a young boy with bare legs and a black cloth wrapped about his shoulders, dart out from behind a tree and throw a stone with all his might at our moving vehicle. He let out a loud yell as he threw the stone as if to clearly say, “This is my territory!” I felt really bad because up to now I felt very welcomed in this strange land.
Five hours journey from Iringua is the Ru-aha Game Park. Unbeknown to me, this was going to be an exciting adventure through untamed Africa as we would venture into the Rift Valley and see animals (and insects) that I never even knew existed. My first inkling that this would be no ordinary days drive was during breakfast when Babu asked me if I really wanted a second cup of tea. “We won't be making any “potty” stops he warned me. Going to the “restroom” was typically jumping out of the cruiser as quickly as possible, running behind the vehicle, “using the bathroom” and hoping that no snakes slithered by, tribesmen appear behind the bush or no one looked behind. This was a particularly hard trip as I came down with some intestinal bug that I had previously been warned about. So, consequently, I declined my second cup and was content with fasting breakfast (and ultimately lunch and dinner).
Ruaha is the second largest park in Tanzania and one of the most remote. It is teaming with a large population of wild life including elephants, giraffe, zebra, impala, dik dik buffalo and the king of the jungle, lions (although it is said that the elephant is to be more feared than any other animal). The river was home to the hippo, and crocodile and after seeing them I had no desire to test the water.. While on safari we were within thirty feet to many of these animals. Twice we parked and drove beside a pride of lions on the prowl. I was totally not at peace with this although we were informed by Sampson, our six plus foot guide, that they would not hurt us as long as we stayed inside the open aired cruiser. I was not convinced that one of these felines would not leap inside, especially when a baby lion was “meowing” on the other side of our vehicle. But this was such a highlight and a privilege to spend three days on safari each day on the wide open plains along the Ruaha River. The baobab trees studded the grasslands and mountains could be seen in the distance. The glowing, bright orange sunsets were breathtaking. Hannah took the most marvelous photos capturing the glory of God's magnificent creation. I pondered on the scripture verse that says, “The heavens declare Thy glory.”
Our Safari camp was incredible and we slept in stone and thatch bandas which were fancy tents. At night you could hear the animals below in the dry river bed including lions roaring in the distance. The elephants made their presence known in the camp and one outside our tent stomped on the water pipes and so of course we had no running water in the morning. We were served scrumptious meals and were greatly surprised one evening to be escorted to the dry river bed where a table was eloquently prepared and an exquisite meal that was cooked out side served to us in a very regal fashion. Such is life on a safari in the Great Rift Valley. What a superb treat.
