mteremo [lightheartedness, freedom from care]

“You girls are the glamour of the event,” Ben tells Eunice and I as we don kid-sized ford logo t-shirts and fluff up our hair. He hired us for a few hours of looking pretty and shaking hands of Arusha’s highest society at the launch of the newest model of Ford luxury vehicle in Tanzania. Of course it was held in the garden of the 5-star Arusha Hotel. We were asked to stand smiling on either side of the new Everest as someone gave a promo speech. We were even asked to pose in a few pictures with people. We just kept laughing at our luck… we have managed to meet the coolest most connected people in this town.

We spent Saturday learning about the initiatives of a local greening project. I met a really cute little boy who accompanied me playing with seeds and flowers rather than listening to one of the presentations. He was shocked when I said “asante,” even though I had already asked him his name using his own language. “You speak Swahili??”

We proceeded to a Maasai boma. Stepping out of the car we were greeted by about 10 ornately dressed women that were singing and dancing our welcome. They laughed and smiled as we tried to emulate them, and we all shook hands. God, they were gorgeous. I didn’t realize how much I had been lacking the company of older women. There is something profound even in sitting in such close proximity to someone with so much wisdom and maturity. I found myself staring at them a lot, although I didn’t feel bad, as they seemed to be reciprocating. I can only imagine how ridiculous the things we were wearing must look to them, or even my skin that was quickly turning pink from sitting in the sun so briefly must look quite foreign. The kids had mixed reactions toward us, they kept running to touch us, and then running away to safety just as quickly. They disappeared for a while, but their giggles in the distance beckoned me turn around to see them all standing staring at their reflections in the shiny bumper of our SUV.

There were no trees to be seen around this village, and as the wind picked up we were bombarded with dust from the parched earth surrounding us. I alternated quite frequently between rubbing my eyes and squeezing them shut. I’ve never been affected by a drought so directly. When the dust subsided I noticed two of the women sitting closest to me eyeing my amani tattoo and exchanging whispers. I liked the look on their faces, something between surprise and intrigue and approval.

Later they danced and sang and laughed some more, and they dressed us in traditional clothes and beaded jewelry. I think the vision of their calm smiles will stick with me for quite some time.

When I awoke Sunday, I felt a deep longing to go back to the bush. Somewhere I could set my feet on real earth, rather than concrete or tile; somewhere away from development. I secured the good offices of my friend Alfred, who always seems to come through for me at these moments. We left in the early afternoon, with his brother and one of my classmates, in search of a hot spring. It was about a 45-minute drive on marked roads, and 30 minutes on something more like a rocky maze in between baobab trees and small villages.

We arrived to find a lonely little pool with crystal clear turquoise water. It wasn’t actually a hot spring, but a gorgeous fresh water swimming pool surrounded by low hanging branches and vines. Swimming in this pool was the kind of refreshing that leaves your soul feeling quenched.

After a while we started hearing things rustling in the bushes around the pool. Monitor lizards! Coincidentally, we all tired from swimming. So we switched our focus to climbing the trees. Perched up high with Alfred we enjoyed coke and ground nuts and light conversation. We talked about Obama winning the peace prize, (though I still think a commander in chief of the army should not receive that honor) and the recession.

Our relaxing was soon interrupted with another adventure. In search of a place to relieve ourselves, we came across a newly born calf- umbilical cord still attached. Alfred picked it up. And then it chased me, like a scene straight out of the book Are You My Mother. We next had to cross a stream to get to the desert on the other side. However, we had to wait for a herd of goats to pass through first. I would have loved somebody to take a picture of me in my bikini patiently waiting with Maasai men for these animals. On the buisness of the bathroom, let me just say it is difficult to find a private place in a desert that supports nomadic Maasai.

During the wait, Alfred had struck up conversation with one of the locals and learned that there was a hydroelectric plant nearby. We went in search of it with this man as our guide. We saw rustic equipment and monkeys and birds that looked like dinosaurs and women bathing in the river. Don't you always find more than you start out looking for?

I felt such relief to be in the bush, that I started scheming my future as a safari guide. Alfred talked me through my options. I thought maybe this could be a solution to my wanderlust: a job description only limited by the definition of exploring.

We rode home at my favorite time of day, where the sky becomes pink and the earth becomes somehow golden. I could feel the wind in my hair and the dust covering my skin as I watched the peak of Kili slowly fade into the twilight. And I finally felt so free and content in that moment. That night I read a great passage from Kahlil Gibran’s The Prophet:

“You shall be free indeed when your days are not without a care nor your nights without a want and a grief, but rather when these things girdle your life and yet you rise above them naked and unbound.”

I think this will be my inspiration for this new week. In celebration, Eunice and I have decided to forgo the use of utensils. Ill let you know how that goes.

Check out all the exciting pictures from this week on facebook. Hopefully East African internet allows me to post them :0)