Tanzania: Impressions

Cool morning mist. Cracked clay ground. Dry river beds. Kilimanjaro at sunrise.

Timelessness.

Summer rain. Dirt. Loud crickets.

Driving on the left side of the road. Honking. Donkeys, goats, chickens crossing the path. Woman carrying 2 chickens and a baby.

Skirts, worn at all times. Bug spray, sun screen. Hand sanitizer. Sticky fingers coated in dirt. Bucket baths. Bottled water. Donkey brays his disapproval of our chosen sleep patterns. Dogs chime in with yapping. Cow gives her input.

Sun. Heat. Light. Bright colors. Joyful faces of those who have nothing, yet possess everything.

Soccer. The most important sport. Rules carefully observed. Lines engraved in the dirt. New soccer goals. Thorns in the grass. Rooster on the field – 10 points if you hit the chicken!

Maasai warriors, men, women, and children who smell of manure, sweat, and burning trash. Piercings, jewelry, blue and red checkered cloth. The Boma, made of sticks and mud and manure. Circles burned or cut on cheeks and forehead at a young age. Lion killers. Spears, knives, rods. Tire-tread sandals.

Women selling goods. Beads. Horns. Carved animals. Hollowed out squash. A firm hand grasping mine, pulling me to the ground to buy her bracelets. “It’s good, very good. Mzuri sana.” “Choose what you like.”

Childrens’ voices. Loud singing. Clapping, swaying, jumping. Worship. Call and response. Goats passing by our outdoor church service. Chickens join the singing.

Hand clapping games. “Down down de, down down di do de. C C A, C C the road-A. Mama ama anke, mama ama e. Booga booga booga booga ax!” Swahili, Maasai, English. Yes, the answer to every question.

Hands touching my skin. Children fighting to put their hand in mine. Touching our arm hair. Pulling my hair into braids. “What is this?” “A freckle.” “What is a freckle?” Teaching me to count in Swahili. Reminding me again of their names. Carrying one old plastic bowl for meals. Torn purple sweaters. Yellow shirts. “Teacha! Give me sweets!” Tears wiped away quickly, hidden sadness. Dark eyes full of sorrow, saying, “Why do you leave? Take me with you!”