This post continues the narrative of our recent safari experience in Africa. But it also serves as the first of a series. “And there I was when I woke up” will relate some memorable overnights in places around the world. Watch for pieces down the road.
It was far from the enkaji of the Maasai, but it had the vibe.
The traditional Maasai home is a low-slung wattle and daub structure. Its skeleton is a lattice of branches and twigs, suspended from support poles. Its cap is of layered grass, a coolie-kind of headshade that slows the sun and rain. Its floor is earthen, stamped firm by the soft pads of human feet. In local tradition, constructing these homes—the ultimate in eco-green (would anyone here conceive of it in such terms?)—is the job of the women.
The hut is a reflection of tribal life. Inside, a family sleeps, eats, socializes, and stores stuff. One door and one small window open to the outside world. In context, that immediate world consists of the huts of extended family grouped inside the kraal (an Afrikaans term that circled ‘round into Spanish and then into English as corral). The enclosure wall that defines the kraal is formed by thorny branches that offer security for the herds at night. For the Maasai, of course, that would be cattle.
As one sings after the grazing and watering
“You are making me drunk by your many colours, you, my fine heifer!
I will sing a song as I pass with you through the gate.”*
This group of huts in Tanzania is typical of a tribal settlement. I found it here (accessed 10/17/2019).
Our “hut,” of course, was nothing like this. We had brick walls, a concrete floor, glass windows, and a fully functioning bathroom with porcelain fixtures. It was anything but eco-green. Mosquito netting was neatly draped from the corners of a four-poster bed. Vicki took all of this in with delight after our uncomfortable arrival in Tanzania (see previous post here).
We were let in by a bagboy after the taximan dropped us off at Ilburu Safari Lodge. Our hut was located near the back fence of the five-acre property. Immediately beyond that fence came the sounds of an Arusha morning: birds, babies, motorcycles, honking vehicles, and human chatter. It was the music of Africa. Wide-eyed Vicki heard it for the first time.
The huts in the Ilboru Lodge are immaculate. Warthog art in our kraal added a wild touch.
This hut would be a temporary home for us during our first days in Tanzania. It was just the spot to relax, revive, and adjust to to new rhythms. After months of teaching groups back-to-back in Israel it was a delight to be with Vicki again. It also gave Turkish Air a window of time to find her lost suitcase in Chicagoland and rush it to Arusha.
I squeezed her hand.
We threw what stuff we had into the hut and headed back to the main lodge for breakfast. The smell of the kitchen tugged at my nose as well as the edge of my memory: when was the last time I ate a real meal? Was it in Istanbul? Tel Aviv? Jerusalem?
Upstairs was a dining area populated with a collection of internationals. Folk were either departing or returning from a safari. We found an empty wooden table and settled in. Besides coffee and eggs the other thing everyone had in common was khaki.
The main building of the Ilburu Safai Lodge housed the reception area, a small store, offices, and the kitchen and dining room. Image found here (accessed 10/19/2019).
After breakfast we talked, rested, washed clothes, and sat outside our hut in the shade.
Birds flitted about the trees and bushes. The superb starlings lived up to their name. They appeared almost metallic, shimmering in hues of blue and orange. Canaries plunged their heads into flowers almost within reach of our porch. Weavers chattered and fussed
Skwieeer, kiiyerr, tew, tew, tew.
A pair of speckled mousebirds maintained a nest in the fence. Their drab dress contrasted with the iridescent starlings; tall crests and flowing tails suggested a nobility of a different order.
I retrieved my camera and a large zoom lens that I had borrowed from a friend for this very occasion. I had lugged this setup from the States to Israel to Turkey and now to East Africa. It had more punch (and weight) than I was accustomed to hauling. And then even after all that effort I still wasn’t sure what I would capture. I had learned only weeks before that the lens would not sync with the settings of my Nikon. I would spend the next three weeks in Tanzania guessing aperture and shutter speeds.
A speckled mousebird (Colius striatus) is a resident of urban areas in Tanzania. This was one of a pair that set up shop in the vegetation of the kraal fence.
We enjoyed our day in Arusha. We enjoyed the birds. We enjoyed the napping.
Such enjoyment calls for a little poetry. What could be better than C. Emily-Dibb’s “The Call of Africa”?**
When you've acquired a taste for dust,
the scent of our first rain,
You're hooked for life on Africa
and you'll not be right again.
When you long to see the elephants,
Or to hear the coucal’s song,
When the moonrise sets your blood on fire,
You’ve been away too long.
It’s time to cut the traces loose
And let your heart go free
Beyond that far horizon,
Where your spirit yearns to be.
Africa is waiting… come!
Since you’ve touched the open sky
And learned to love the rustling grass,
The wild fish eagle’s cry,
You’ll always hunger for the bush,
For the lion’s rasping roar,
To camp at last beneath the stars
And to be at peace once more.
And there I was when I woke up, ready to go on safari.
If you are a traveler, church leader, or educator who is interested in visiting Israel-Palestine (or Tanzania!), let me hear from you. I partner with faith-based groups to deliver outdoor academic experiences. Leaders receive the same perks that other agencies offer, at competitive prices and without the self-serving interests.
Right now we are building the passenger roster for an Israel excursion scheduled for March 17-28, 2020. Seats will be open until Thanksgiving. For a list of trips go to the link here or contact me at markziese@gmail.com.