Little Miss Sunshine
I can’t imagine what went through their minds as we rolled into the camp.
Chugging ever so slowly through the hills and plains of Ruaha National Park, we must have been quite the sight. Our little white Toyota Hiatsu Minivan standing out in stark contrast against the golden brown grasses and gnarled baobab trees. Working our way through the ruts and bumps, rocks and sand, Kulwa did an excellent job ferrying us several kilometers from the hippo pool at the park gate to Mwagusi Camp. Still, we were often left eating the dust of the super-charged Land Rovers flying through the park. Passing both Twiga and Tembo, I can’t help but think that the four of us crusing along in our little tin can were the oddest critters in the landscape.
While we were a bit mismatched with the jet-setters and multi-week flying safari types, we grad (and recent graduate) students held our own in the safari camp social order. I’d might even dare say, we had a wonderful time . . . how could you not, what with luxury accommodations, cheetah sightings, lion *ahem* lovin,’ elephant charges, two lion ‘kills’ –a giraffe and an elephant! – and an eccentric cast of characters to share it all with.
It was all so very exciting and so very different from the ‘Africa’ I’ve grown to know over the past few months and years. In this world of matching safari suits and double-digit cocktails it is common to hear your fellow adventurers say things like, “oh ‘they’ [i.e. all Tanzanians] all have such excellent eyes. They are so observant! . . And friendly, they just love to help [i.e. serve] us!” They are impressed with and envious of the fact that here, in the luxury safari camp, “Life isn’t stressful at all because they [the Tanzanians again] work in such pleasant little jobs surrounded by all of the wonderful creatures. It isn’t at all complicated like it is back in London [or New York or Paris or Sydney or Wherever].”
It is such an idyllic take on life in Tanzania that –honestly- makes me a little sad. Sad not because people are flat out wrong intentioned, misguided, or playing to stereotypes but because they are only scratching the surface of what is going on here. Flying from park to park they miss out on the villages and peoples that compose the majority of the country.
When you arrive at the safari camp by little white van you come first to the staff quarters, a series of simple yet decent mudbrick buildings located conveniently just across the sand river and around a bend from the towering ‘authentically african’ tourist bandas. Here the guys –and they are all guys, no women allowed- cook, play soccer, and sleep when not spotting monitor lizards asleep in trees or filling your water glass. This is their home for the eleven straight months of the year [away from home, family, friends, wives, and children] that they spend meticulously rearranging and tidying up the stuff you leave strewn about.
Chatting with some of the guys in Swahili I learned that by and large they really do enjoy their jobs. For the most part they truly are happy . . . happy to work in such a beautiful place, happy to serve, and happy to help animal hungry tourists get just the right photos. Most of all, they are happy to well paying jobs with which they support their loved ones back home.
Their backstories and the sacrifices they make to support their families add a whole new level of depth to the life in the camp and makes me extra appreciative of the effort behind the pair of socks folded and set neatly on my nightstand.
Bumping along the way out of the park, one of the workers hitched a ride with the four of us. We talked and joked and laughed the entire ride to Tungamalenga, passing by herds of zebra and impala without a second thought. While the critters outside were cool, the person in our midst –in our little white van- took precedence.
Where animal scenes straight out of the Lion King may have been part of my initial draw here, it is the people and their stories and relationships that keep me coming back. It is that part of Tanzania that I hope to be able to continue to share with others in the weeks, months, and years to come.
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