Safari Journal Part 11

Safari Journal Part 11

We ride to Doffa Camp. On the way, Gebra tells me that my luggage will arrive today. They are having a driver bring it to us, well I say us but I mean me, just me and my glorious, wonderful, beautiful luggage!I ask a few questions about the campsite. What will the shower be like? What, they have warm water? Yes, and filled by solar tanks above the stall. I love you Gebra! Did I ever tell him that before? Probably not, it’s not like I go around saying that to everyone. Anyway, I am relishing in the thought of taking a shower. I haven’t felt warm water on my skin in six days. Six days, that’s actually kind of cool. I have gone without a shower for six days, yea for me. The entire ride to the site I am envisioning all my little plastic containers of soap, shampoo and a razor. A razor. With a razor I can eliminate all those spiky things that brush against me when I sleep. I can start to see my pits again! The monkeys will stop calling me mommy. I must tell you this; I have two shirts with me now, one denim and one tank. When you put the denim over the tank, one looks as though she has shaven everyday. Add the hot sun and one cannot stand the denim over the tank so she gracefully removes it. There are no mirrors here, so she has nothing to fear. But when the hair grows so long that you take it into consideration when you put on your bra in the morning, one might start to feel a bit nasty.

There is a suggestion that we visit the small stand that we saw on our way here. We pitch our tents as we discuss it aloud. The men decide that they are going to take a shower now. You girls just go shopping “he,he,he”. They know. They know how desperately that I want them to come with us. They know that I am secretly trying to hoard the warm water and keep it all for myself. Damn! Ladies never say that a man is a dumb animal, never be under the pretense that he doesn’t know what he wants. He just plays the game, like the rest of us. My luggage still hasn’t arrived so I have no choice but to succumb to popular vote. We walk about a half mile to the shop that we passed. There is American music coming from the speakers, yes I said speakers. It seems that this campsite and store are placed strategically close to one another. As I walk through the beaded doors, I can see that the place is packed from top to bottom and from side to side with wood carvings, Maasai blankets, tanzanite and bows with arrows. Although nothing looked mass produced, it was mass supplied. I walk around for about five minutes before I decide to go outside and wait for everyone else to finish. Looking to my left I see Gebra sitting under a natural umbrella playing cards with another man. I walk over and sit down next to him. They are playing a game that I can only deduce is something like Uno. The cards are very basic in appearance. No fancy kings just the letter K and a large heart shape defining it, in the middle. Gebra is making happy or unhappy noises depending on what cards come up. They are both speaking in Swahili, which leaves me out of the conversation. Gebra turns and tells me how he loves to play cards. I tell him that I have a deck of cards in my backpack and that we can play some tonight. He smiles.

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