When my husband told me that he had planned for us to live our dream and go on safari and to the island of Zanzibar in Tanzania for our honeymoon, I thought I'd died and gone to one of those insane Oprah's 'Wildest Dreams Come True' episodes. For the months that followed, I diligently tried to pick out the most stylish gear (because mosquito nets and camouflage are the sexiest attire known to man), read up on the experiences we'd have and dreamt of a trip I'd only read about in worn-out copies of Conde Nast Traveler at the doctor's office.
We left for the trip of our dreams, totally unprepared for the monumental events that were to follow. Waking up in the middle of the night to the roar of lions (and being so terrified we didn't dare go back to bed). Going to the boma of a Maasai family, visiting their homes, looking at their handiwork and taking photographs of their beautiful children. Eating breakfast, made to order, in the middle of the bush. Elephants so close to our car it's a wonder I didn't reach out to touch them. Ice cold beers on the Serengeti plain as the sun set. Enough wildlife to put the Lion King to shame (sorry, James Earl Jones).
And meeting people who shared with us the most intimate details of their life and altered our perspective of what it means to understand the gifts given to you and what love, real love, truly is.
Towards the end of our trip, we were staying in a beautiful tented camp in the Serengeti where we planned to spend a few days. True to the nature of safari, although your experience is very private, you have the opportunity to engage with people you meet from around the world. Whether you're having coffee in the morning before your drive or decompressing from a day more colorful and mind-blowing than you can process with a few beers, you share a social tent with others and a conversation is bound to strike. We met couples on their honeymoons, families travelling through Africa and the most odd, yet, illuminating pair of the entire trip.
During dinner one night we spotted an older gentleman, likely in his seventies, and a young man in his twenties. We had assumed they were father and son. They struggled to make conversation while eating together before the older man retired to their tent to prepare for the adventures ahead. The young man stayed behind in the tent to have a few beers and read when we got to talking.
Contrary to our belief, the young man and the older man were not related. They were strangers. The young man, who was hardly 21, came to Africa by the invitation of an uncle who had invited him to climb Kilimanjaro with him. While on his climb, he met the older gentleman, who, by chance, happened to have a spot available, paid for in full, to join him on a luxury safari in the bush during the Great Migration. The trip would span across several camps and the older man didn't need anything in return - only companionship. The young man understood what had happened was sheer luck and accepted the offer. He could hardly believe what was happening - he would experience, without paying a cent, something that people across the world dream of and never achieve and his travelling companion was only too happy to share.
But the trip came with one condition.
The reason the weathered, elderly man came to Tanzania alone was a heartbreaking one. His wife's truest desire was to go on safari - it was all she ever wanted. They had planned the trip together, hoping one day to go but it wasn't fated - she died before they had the chance. So, he decided to spread her ashes across Tanzania, from Kilimanjaro to the never-ending bush, so that she too could be there. He had booked the trip with her best friend so they could share the moment together and reminisce about what a wonderful woman she was and grieve in eachother's company. In the end, his wife's best friend couldn't make it and he had an extra spot available on an emotional journey he didn't want to undertake alone. So he invited the charming, energetic young man he had met while on a group climb to Kilimanjaro, hoping to have someone beside him in his anguish.
From talking to the young man, it was clear that he was too immature to fathom the responsibility he had on his shoulders. He wasn't asked to come on the trip because the older man needed a drinking buddy and someone to pose in photos with - he needed someone, anyone, to be a part of something that he dreaded doing alone. His own grown children weren't suitable for the task and he was too fragile to complete what he had started when he organized the trip. We were stunned at the story and mentioned to the young man what an honor it must be to be in his shoes, how much support he must be offering to this stranger and what a unique and memorable experience he was a part of, but he didn't get it. He had no emotional investment and was too young to see the beauty of the situation he was in. He was devoid of the compassion and understanding of an adult. He was in it for the free ride.
Here we were, a newly married couple on the adventure of our lives listening to a heart-wrenching story that dimmed the glow on our honeymoon. It made us think, at the beginning of our marriage, of what the end of it would look like. We were deeply impacted by this man and the emotions he was drowning in. His story, as painful as it was, was a gift.
The older man and his new friend left the camp the next morning, off to continue to spread his late wife's ashes on the rest of the Serengeti. We said goodbye, knowing we'd never see eachother again but would think of them from time to time. We later left Tanzania with this lesson in mind:
The responsibility of understanding the gifts that are given to you is not one all can comprehend or bear. We are all given things in our lives, gifts and curses, that should leave their mark on us, but we are not always able - or mature enough - to see them for what they are.
We were given the gift of hearing this remarkable story. The young man was too blind to see the true gift he was given behind the trip in front of him. But we were both given something.
We left for the trip of our dreams, totally unprepared for the monumental events that were to follow. Waking up in the middle of the night to the roar of lions (and being so terrified we didn't dare go back to bed). Going to the boma of a Maasai family, visiting their homes, looking at their handiwork and taking photographs of their beautiful children. Eating breakfast, made to order, in the middle of the bush. Elephants so close to our car it's a wonder I didn't reach out to touch them. Ice cold beers on the Serengeti plain as the sun set. Enough wildlife to put the Lion King to shame (sorry, James Earl Jones).
And meeting people who shared with us the most intimate details of their life and altered our perspective of what it means to understand the gifts given to you and what love, real love, truly is.
Towards the end of our trip, we were staying in a beautiful tented camp in the Serengeti where we planned to spend a few days. True to the nature of safari, although your experience is very private, you have the opportunity to engage with people you meet from around the world. Whether you're having coffee in the morning before your drive or decompressing from a day more colorful and mind-blowing than you can process with a few beers, you share a social tent with others and a conversation is bound to strike. We met couples on their honeymoons, families travelling through Africa and the most odd, yet, illuminating pair of the entire trip.
During dinner one night we spotted an older gentleman, likely in his seventies, and a young man in his twenties. We had assumed they were father and son. They struggled to make conversation while eating together before the older man retired to their tent to prepare for the adventures ahead. The young man stayed behind in the tent to have a few beers and read when we got to talking.
Contrary to our belief, the young man and the older man were not related. They were strangers. The young man, who was hardly 21, came to Africa by the invitation of an uncle who had invited him to climb Kilimanjaro with him. While on his climb, he met the older gentleman, who, by chance, happened to have a spot available, paid for in full, to join him on a luxury safari in the bush during the Great Migration. The trip would span across several camps and the older man didn't need anything in return - only companionship. The young man understood what had happened was sheer luck and accepted the offer. He could hardly believe what was happening - he would experience, without paying a cent, something that people across the world dream of and never achieve and his travelling companion was only too happy to share.
But the trip came with one condition.
The reason the weathered, elderly man came to Tanzania alone was a heartbreaking one. His wife's truest desire was to go on safari - it was all she ever wanted. They had planned the trip together, hoping one day to go but it wasn't fated - she died before they had the chance. So, he decided to spread her ashes across Tanzania, from Kilimanjaro to the never-ending bush, so that she too could be there. He had booked the trip with her best friend so they could share the moment together and reminisce about what a wonderful woman she was and grieve in eachother's company. In the end, his wife's best friend couldn't make it and he had an extra spot available on an emotional journey he didn't want to undertake alone. So he invited the charming, energetic young man he had met while on a group climb to Kilimanjaro, hoping to have someone beside him in his anguish.
From talking to the young man, it was clear that he was too immature to fathom the responsibility he had on his shoulders. He wasn't asked to come on the trip because the older man needed a drinking buddy and someone to pose in photos with - he needed someone, anyone, to be a part of something that he dreaded doing alone. His own grown children weren't suitable for the task and he was too fragile to complete what he had started when he organized the trip. We were stunned at the story and mentioned to the young man what an honor it must be to be in his shoes, how much support he must be offering to this stranger and what a unique and memorable experience he was a part of, but he didn't get it. He had no emotional investment and was too young to see the beauty of the situation he was in. He was devoid of the compassion and understanding of an adult. He was in it for the free ride.
Here we were, a newly married couple on the adventure of our lives listening to a heart-wrenching story that dimmed the glow on our honeymoon. It made us think, at the beginning of our marriage, of what the end of it would look like. We were deeply impacted by this man and the emotions he was drowning in. His story, as painful as it was, was a gift.
The older man and his new friend left the camp the next morning, off to continue to spread his late wife's ashes on the rest of the Serengeti. We said goodbye, knowing we'd never see eachother again but would think of them from time to time. We later left Tanzania with this lesson in mind:
The responsibility of understanding the gifts that are given to you is not one all can comprehend or bear. We are all given things in our lives, gifts and curses, that should leave their mark on us, but we are not always able - or mature enough - to see them for what they are.
We were given the gift of hearing this remarkable story. The young man was too blind to see the true gift he was given behind the trip in front of him. But we were both given something.
