The first bit of that title is the name of a story book. It’s about a kid growing up and going places. Well, I’ve been going to them, and I’m getting better at it as I go. There’s a catch though, and this is the second part of the title; I’m not getting “better” in the ways I might have expected, but that’s OK, it’s even good. As a teacher has told me (and a good song has sung), “you don’t always get what you want, but sometimes you get what you need”. Well, I’m getting what I need out here. It’s a bit of a taste of mortality, a side dish of humility, and ample portions of beautiful opportunities to learn, love, and let go.

Out here by the way is in a tented lodge on the cusp of Serengeti National Park in Tanzania. There are lions, buffalo, hippo, rhino, elephants, giraffes, acacia trees that look like giant Japanese bonsai with 2 inch thorns, yellow savanna, snow capped mountains, crystal lakes, golden birds, and right now with the help of satellite Internet I write with the aural backdrop of crickets humming on a cool African night.

Yes, I laid the setting out in one sentence, and there’s a good reason for that. You’ve all, mostly, likely, seen National Geographic, been to a zoo, well, this is a thousand times better just as you’d expect; go on safari (means journey in Swahili btw) once in your lifetime if you can, it’s worth it, but there’s a better reason to come to East Africa. A lesson that can only, truly be taught by seeing the cities and villages, feeling the energy, breathing the air, and talking with the people.

First an anecdote: In a good book I’ve been reading, ‘Eat, Pray, Love’ the idea came up that every place, people, person, has a word, a single word that describes it / them. In the book, Rome was supposedly Sex, New York was, if I remember right, Achieve. Well, it didn’t take me long to figure out the quintessential word for the regions of Africa that I’m exploring: Hungry. There’s a look in people’s eyes in the street, a look of need that even the impoverished areas of Central America did not have.

In a single second anecdote this can be summed up: In an open market in a little village I was walking with people on my tour (here with my Mom on a guided safari) when we passed some working women and their cute little children, no more than 2 or 3 years old. Well, one of the little ones came up to a nice lady on my tour, took her hand and started walking with her. Oh so precious it was. The lady’s heart was so touched. Shortly after a little one did the same to my Mom. As he let go and my Mom started to walk away she noticed the kid gesturing with his hand in the universal language of “give me”. The mothers of the children didn’t seem to mind this at all and there were repeat attempts. This is a microcosmic example of the hawkers and touts you’ll run into everywhere, from city to village…

But, the word ‘hungry’ takes manifest and more benevolent forms here as well. There are also very kind and hard working people. There are the score of Masai for example, a native tribe, trying their best to live their traditional lives. Yet, many of them have had to turn those lives into a tourist zoo just to make end’s meat (or end’s spinach and corn mash which is what many of them subsist on). None the less; they work hard and many are genuinely good people. These villagers are only a cry from being in the shoes of the Native Americans of a few hundred years ago: being boxed into areas and having strict limits placed on the way they run their lives. What would you do?

I’ll say this: if I were hungry like that, physically, all the time, I would be the same way. And that’s where some of my lessons of compassion have come in on this journey. I went from Western Europe to this in a heartbeat. Wake up call! I’ve been meditating regularly too. I’ve been offering myself space and even a bit of love. My dreams have been teaching me lessons. And per my style, I’ve met some lovely locals and travelers and had some amazing conversations.

It seems that when the layer of ‘hungry’ is peeled away there is a genuine caring in these people. I’ve found this more and more the further I get from the cities. It’s not all that different from going from a city to rural land in the US, the change is stark and appreciated.

Today, I skipped the group game drive (aka, driving in the jeep on bumpy roads and looking at animals) and decided to do my own thing. I went on a guided walk around the lodge. I was the only one being led by two guides (really). One was a native that wore traditional garb and carried a spear the other was a translator. To note, the spear was not for show, there was a pride of lions nearby as the fresh tracks would tell and buffalo that might charge without notice. I then checked some e-mail, decided where to go after this tour, did some yoga, ate with my group who’d gotten back, did some martial practices, and then, creme de la creme, I was taught to throw a spear, hunt the lion style by the Masai that quite enjoyed glimpsing my exercises. I got past some of the layers with a few of these people. Thank goodness.

Safari means ‘journey’, well, I’m journeying inwardly and outwardly. Inside and outside I’ve been looking and listening and each day I feel that I’m getting better at forgiving. I could get into what I mean by that, but then it’s another two pages of philosophy and I think this e-mail has had just about enough of that.

Smiling from Africa,
Namaste,
Lee