Fire and Water and Things I've Learned

After several days of traveling and several days of recuperation, some words have come back to me. It is way too early to be up right now, and I’m still mildly jet lagged, but I’ll do the best I can to write some closing thoughts.

It’s going to be a long time while Luis and I process everything we’ve experienced. Luis prefers to write about his own experiences, so look for his account of climbing Kili, oh, in about July. Kidding! I’m kidding. Sort of.

It may sound stereotypical, but fire and water have been recurring themes during our trip to Tanzania. I don’t mean it in some primitive way, although I do mean it in sort of an essential way. Let me see if I can parse this out.

We forget, living in the city, that fire and water are the foundation of everything. While traveling, however, especially in a place where you are witnessing whole ecosystems, such as in the Serengeti, it becomes apparent that these are the engines that drive the system. It is simple and beautiful.

·      As safari guests, we saw recently burned grasses that had come back bright green in Ngorongoro Crater, providing nourishment to grazing animals. We saw how the pools drew animals of all kinds.

·      As visitors to the lodges and camps, I sat in awe as a Maasai man made fire for me with just the tools and trees at hand. We relied on an endless supply of bottled water in order to stay healthy.

·      On the mountain, Luis relied on an army of porters to collect, filter, boil, and carry water and all of the supplies up and down the mountain for their needs, and to make fire in freezing conditions for daily hot food and warm drinks. Luis battled his own fears of hiking on snow and ice to reach the top of the tallest freestanding mountain in the world.

·      At Gombe Forest Camp, every evening the staff would ask “Are you ready for a fire now, Miss Laura?” and make a bonfire while we sat and enjoyed the beauty of Lake Tanganyika.

So many of our experiences are directly linked to fire and water in ways that are indirect, convenient, or invisible back at home.

OK, now on to…10 Things I learned while traveling in Tanzania:

1.     Wear your Maasai bracelet on the left since the right arm is your spear arm.

2.     If you are a breasted person going on safari, there are only two important words: Sports. Bra.

3.     Everyone has facebook, including the Maasai and all the members of your remote tented camp.

4.     While preparing to visit the chimps at Gombe, you must do WAY more stair climbing exercises than you think are necessary. Preferably in humidity while wearing a backpack.

5.     Always choose the Warrior with the lion’s tail for a date.

6.     Beyoncé is internationally loved.

7.     If the hotel desk staff person asks to marry your daughter, hold out for three cows and at least two goats, or no deal.

8.     Not having wi-fi can be a blessing.

9.     Every time you see a warthog in the Serengeti you must resist the urge to sing “I was a young wartHOGGGG” because once is really enough.

10.  Talk to everyone you can. They are interesting and smart and different from you.

I’ve come to the conclusion that traveling, like fire and water, is also essential. Traveling requires an open mind and a willingness to feel slightly uncomfortable. Traveling is not tourism, in which you are insulated from the realities. Traveling is basically a Buddhist practice, in which “not knowing” is a daily state. These slightly uncomfortable moments are the ones when I’ve become a better person, more connected to the rest of the species and less self-centered.

I wish I was able to step even more off the beaten path, but risks are, well, riskier as a woman. But every time I’ve ventured a little farther, or asked deeper questions, tasted something new, ridden in some vehicle that just shouldn’t be legal, or gotten to know someone I would never cross paths with in my usual daily routine, I have grown. Far more than souvenirs, it’s these moments that make traveling essential.

Thank you for reading! It was nice knowing you were listening.

Respect the Mountain

I’ve been back in Arusha at the Summit Safari Hotel for several days waiting for Luis and his group to return from Club Kili. So, of course, I’ve been talking to the folks coming down off the mountain. And the hotel staff, who are all now my friends on Facebook.

The vast majority of the climbers have made it to the top. But as I sit and chat in the restaurant and lounge, using the only wifi available, I begin to hear stories. One kid from Texas had altitude sickness and had to come down early. One entire group had such bad “digestive distress” that they recommended wearing sanitary pads during the climb.

Scott and Mai from Orange County forgot to apply sunscreen on summit day. On a mountain with snow. At 19,000 ft. They both suffered a sunburn that completely peeled their faces and lips off. Mai had a fever when she came off the mountain that lasted for two days. On the trek, Mai had forgotten her sunglasses, and one of the porters kindly offered his. The porter ended up with snow blindness that burned his corneas. I still haven’t heard how he is doing. (Are we having fun yet? I’ll go see the chimps, thank you.)

Eddie, a friendly guy from Brisbane, Australia completely lost the use of his legs at 18,000 ft. They assumed it was pressure on the brain, and decided to get him down the mountain immediately. The way he tells it, coming down sounds like Mr. Toad’s Wild Ride – six strong porters ran with him strapped tightly onto a stretcher with a big wheel all the way down Mt. Kilimanjaro. He laughs as he remembers, in a piecemeal way, rolling at high speed down the hill, watching the faces of the guys covered in sweat, one of them disappearing suddenly under a wheel, looking at the sunset, and the huge moon. He says his wife told him to make sure to enjoy the lovely African sunsets. Well technically he did, only horizontally, out of the corner of his eye. He laughs heartily as he is telling me the story, but it must have been terrifying at the time. He is feeling much better, can walk fine, and the nausea and confusion is slowly getting better.

Fortunately I know by this time that Luis’ group is safe and they have all made it to the summit without any major incident. This isn’t a game up here. You have to respect the mountain.

Bush pigs, Nicki Minaj, and Chocolate-Ginger Tarts

At my camp in the Gombe Forest, I hear dogs barking in the distance. Then I remember they are actually baboons and I smile. As I write this, there is a troop of baboons barking at each other and walking across the roof of my tent. They are everywhere. They look right at you as if to size you up and say, “I can take you.” Then you move a little and they walk on. If it is a juvenile baboon, it may scurry away, looking back at you to make sure you’re not following. If it’s a large adult male, it will saunter off with a swagger. There are all kinds of animals in the forest here, many of which come right through camp. I may have dreamed that there were bush pigs snorting around in the middle of the night last night – or there may have actually been bush pigs. You never know around here, and it’s all good. (Photo below: Baboons)

It’s hard to remember that, besides the generator, all the noises here are natural. No matter how manmade they sound. The tinny and metallic insect noises, the cicadas that pierce your eardrums like an excruciatingly loud alarm buzzer, the birds that call on a regular pattern over and over for minutes until you’re sure they must be on a recorded loop. My brain keeps trying to match the sounds of the forest with something it is familiar with. It takes a second or two for it to catch on that we’re not in Kansas anymore.

There are only six things to do at the Gombe Forest Camp, which I think makes it the most peaceful place I’ve ever stayed. You can (1) sleep, (2) eat, (3) read, (4) write, (5) go to the lake, or (6) talk. There is no wi-fi and cell signal only on the boat ride to Gombe. Fortunately there are some fun and interesting people here who enjoy talking and laughing, so most of our non-chimp chasing hours are spent hanging out. We’ve talked about life, death, religion, culture, politics (everyone here wants to talk about Trump), genetics, nature vs. nurture, family life, animal behavior, conservation, life in the bush, Africa, the United States, and pretty much everything else. When not talking, reading, or writing, I’ve managed to take a kayak out onto the lake, which was calm and lovely, although I was cautioned by the local staff not to go too far North or South because “sometimes problems with men from village.”

Athumani (pronounced Asumani, in the photo above) is a young Tanzanian man who studied wildlife and became a guide. He works for the Mbali Mbali Lodges company at Gombe Forest Camp. His English is excellent, although he has a thick Swahili accent. Athumani knows a lot about the wildlife in the region, and does the best imitation of a bush pig I’ve ever heard. I guess that’s not saying a lot because I’ve never heard another imitation of a bush pig, but what I mean to say is that it’s very good. He can also do all the different chimp communication calls, baboon talk, and I’m sure a host of other fantastic animal sounds that I haven’t been privileged to witness. Athumani is a great storyteller and loves to laugh. When he gets time off (which isn’t often, as they work 7 days a week) he goes into Kigoma “with my boyz” and parties at the discos. He likes Eminem and Nicki Minaj. We sang a short rendition of “Anaconda” until we were both laughing so hard that we could no longer get the words out.

The Tanzanians that I’ve come into contact with – granted, they are almost all in the service industry – have been incredibly welcoming. They smile freely and often, love to chat if you show interest, and are happy to help you with anything you like. Neil, the Professional Game Hunter, told us a story about how the locals in one remote hunting area felt bad that he had to sleep on the floor of their huts or drive 6-7 hours back to the main camp. So they built him a house in the off-season as a surprise gesture. A house!

Even the bathroom is supportive. Every time you use the facilities, if you remember to glance over at the new toilet paper roll, it says “Nice one.”

I am amazed at the quality of the meals here. The chef, a young local guy who went to culinary school, produces three course meals twice daily and a breakfast buffet with homemade breads. Meals range from curried fish kebabs, to chicken stuffed with mushrooms to American-style hamburgers (without the antibiotics). He has served the most delicious mashed potatoes molded into a shell shape with a light dusting of cinnamon, and fresh avocado and tomato salads.

But it’s the dessert where this guy just outdoes himself. One night we had chocolate ganache tarts with a ginger infused crust. The chef actually made 4 inch chocolate leaves to garnish the top of the tart. Another night he produced individual caramel flans, with the kind of candied toasted brown sugar topper that you would see on a Gordon Ramsey cooking show. And he’s doing all this in a tiny kitchen powered by a generator (and propane, I imagine) in the middle of the forest. Incredible.

Each of the three nights at camp, I sit at a bonfire overlooking Lake Tanganyika with a Kili beer in hand, and try not to feel too guilty that my husband is exhausted, dirty, and sleep deprived while I’m eating chocolate tarts.