not enough time to know this land, this culture, these people.
But we went. Our tour took us by jeep over rocky roads to unexpected vistas:
a mama lion tending her cub by water's edge,
a Cape buffalo staring at us, trying to figure out:
were we friend or foe?
A herd of thousands of wildebeest trekking north, crossing the river,
jumping over the crocodiles who waited;
a visit to a Masai village, where we were invited to mend a wall
with mud mixed with excrement, an invitation no one took
except me. The people, smiling, laughing, dancing,
such joy in the ordinary, voices lifted in song,
feet making shared patterns in the dust,
such skinny cows so carefully tended,
and a young boy on a coming-of-age trek,
his face painted with protection.
On the way back along the Serengheti Plains,
a wart hog lazed in mud, solace from the sun,
and we returned to Zanzibar,
memories and memories to carry.
Cape Buffalo, Serengheti Plains
Jaguar beside the road, resting
Masai women repairing wall
Masai women singing welcome
Early morning lion at waterhole
Warthog lazing in the mud
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