Story: Wild Africa 1993

Never have I had such an emotional experience - my first adventure trip to Africa.

I was struggling to stay in the corporate world in 1993 - with the system and with what I wanted out of life when I had the brilliant idea for my first solo backpack trip. Just over 50 I was ready for a challenge, a distraction, a real life adventure.

Finding a world map in a rusty file cabinet, I pressed it to a window and enlarged the continents tracing over shapes. As the sun set I spread the map before me and circled areas I'd always craved to explore.

Africa was first, then South America with the Amazon and Inca civilization in Peru, New Zealand's aborigines and tranquil Tahiti, Bali areas. A wonderful route developed circumnavigating the globe.

In August I excused myself from the business world for 2 months to follow my dreams.

I first challenged Italy and Greece pleading to admit an "older person" to their hostels, laughing and sharing stories with younger travelers sleeping on boat decks, trains and hostels.

Upon landing in Arashu, Africa, it was a different, very subdued time. This was life for real - a challenging, frightening reality. People risked and died here every day, every hour, every moment. Fractions were in warfare, maiming - terrifying - destroying their opponents. The group I had aligned with, happy tourists, were caught in this conflict on their vacation originally traveling as simple explorers through Kenya and Tanzania.

We set up camp ourselves on our thrifty safari in places most would not stay - ungated, mostly unguarded remote sites with animal roaming through our compound touching our tents nightly - lions, wildebeests, elephants with constant concern about dangerous poachers.

Traveling to stay outside a Masi transient village we crossed barren land with no structures in site for hours. A small hand was held up motioning us to stop along the route. It was a boy, maybe 8 years old, who had been left by his family miles away to watch the goats and guide them to a small fraction of water that could be found in this environment. He would pursue this goal for days, weeks without food or shelter or other human encounters.
Our vehicle stopped to inquire what he needed - could it be food, clothing, money?

His request was so simple; just a little water was all he asked for. Once given, he went back to the parched and barren yellow bush to continue his plight for his family, happy he had a few sips of life's sustaining liquid.

I lay down on the plastic red seat as tears spilled forth never to forget this life lesson or want more than the necessities of life.