Looking out the window

While driving across Kenya & Tanzania, I’m intrigued by the bright colors and exotic patterns worn by the women who walk beside the road. They balance large bags of fruit, giant bundles of sticks, and heavy buckets of water on their heads! There are many people walking along the street. The men pass by on push bikes with oversize baskets attached, while a few levy wooden carts, step by step. From time to time, donkey’s are necessary to share the load. Secondhand name-brand t-shirts and fluorescent pink eighties windbreaker jackets are seen on occasion. There are many young children sitting and playing in a small circle. When they see our gigantic overland vehicle, they happily spring up, smile and wave enthusiastically. The villages are simple. The people are housed in worn wooden shacks with tin roofs and thatched huts made of sticks and mud. Women wearing flip flops stand in their red dirt “front lawn” and hand-wash clothing. I again appreciate the vibrant designs hung on the clothesline.

Every village has a market, the most humble resembling a tattered lemonade stand with a limited selection of local produce. There is usually a Coca-Cola advertisement easily within sight and, a local cell phone company logo too.





It’s soothing to stare at the scenic views, taking in the variety of plains, mountains, and variety of unfamiliar flora, which is sprinkled with acacias and candelabras. There’s nothing but vast open space for miles and miles. And then, a single person is spotted walking with purpose. Where did they come from? Where could they possibly be going? They must have walked for ages.



Our truck stops on the side of the road next to a plantation of sisal plants. We set up the tables and begin cutting and chopping the fresh vegetables for our daily sandwiches. Within moments, we’re surrounded by a half dozen children oogling at the sight of our food. “Why aren’t you in school?” Our tour leader Martin asked. It was Saturday. There was an assortment of eighties and nineties fashions worn, likely second-hand stock sent over from America. Three of the kids were wearing mismatched flip flops. They looked as though they could use a good meal. As I bit into my sandwich, I felt guilty thinking about how their hunger was probably no comparison to ours. I wished we could have fed them all. We offered them a loaf of bread which they eagerly snacked on. Then, a few guys went into the truck and brought out some gifts, just some simple pens and pencils and balloons. They shared their gifts and entertained the kids with farting balloon noises. The kids loved it. It was very special to interact with them and see them smile with new gifts in hand. I wished I’d brought a whole suitcase of old clothes and gifts to give them.



How lucky we are to have as much as we have.