What about safari journey

The journey began in Arusha—loud, chaotic, and overwhelming. As soon as I stepped onto the dusty streets, I realized I was in a completely different world. Cars and motorcycles weaved through the dense traffic, honking incessantly. Street vendors called out, selling everything from bananas to spare car parts. People moved in every direction, creating a whirlwind of noise, colors, and motion.

Arusha is the safari capital of Tanzania, the gateway to the Serengeti and Ngorongoro Crater. Every traveler embarking on a safari starts here. And yet, despite the thousands of tourists passing through, you hardly see them on the streets. They disappear into luxury lodges, move in private transfers, or dine in exclusive restaurants. While the locals cram into overcrowded *dalla-dallas*—the local minibuses—tourists travel in air-conditioned jeeps, shielded from the reality of everyday life in Arusha.

I, however, found myself right in the middle of it all. As a white woman walking through the streets alone, I stood out. People watched me, curious but distant. Children ran towards me, their hands stretched out, their faces filled with hope. Many called out, "Mzungu!"—the Swahili word for "white person." Some smiled shyly, others looked determined. They were hoping for money, food, or anything a tourist might give them. Poverty was everywhere—visible in the worn-out buildings, in the makeshift stalls, in the eyes of the people. Yet there was also an undeniable energy, a vibrancy that made the city feel alive.

The Journey into the Wild

After a short briefing, the long drive began. Destination: the Serengeti. Nearly 300 kilometers lay ahead—at least seven to ten hours on the road, depending on conditions. The first stretch was paved, but the further we went, the rougher it became. The smooth asphalt turned into bumpy dirt roads, the ride becoming increasingly unpredictable.

As we left the city behind, the landscape changed. The urban chaos faded into rolling hills and open savannas, dotted with ancient baobab trees and acacia groves. Along the way, we passed small villages—many belonging to the Maasai people.

The Maasai – Guardians of the Savannah

The Maasai are one of the most well-known indigenous tribes of East Africa. Traditionally semi-nomadic, they have maintained their way of life despite modernization. Their villages, known as **Manyattas**, are built in a circular layout with small mud-and-thatch huts arranged closely together. Surrounding them is a protective barrier made of thorny branches—a defense against predators, especially lions, which have long been a threat to their cattle.

At the roadside, I saw Maasai men standing tall, wrapped in their iconic red and blue *shúkás* (traditional robes). Some guided large herds of cattle through the dry plains, their movements slow and deliberate. Others leaned on long spears, watching passing vehicles with calm, observant eyes. The Maasai are known for their resilience and deep connection to the land.

Maasai women, adorned with intricate beadwork, carried heavy, handcrafted jewelry that gleamed in the sunlight. In the villages, children played barefoot on the dry earth, while elders gathered in quiet discussions, their expressions wise and composed.

For the Maasai, wealth is measured in cattle, not money. The more cattle a man owns, the higher his status. Many still uphold their ancient traditions—initiation rites, warrior training, and the famous **Adumu**, or jumping dance. During this ritual, young warriors leap into the air in an elegant display of strength and endurance.

For a brief moment, I wondered what it would be like to live this way—detached from modern civilization, in harmony with the wild. But my thoughts were abruptly interrupted by a jolt. Our jeep hit a deep pothole, shaking us violently. I was reminded once again—this was just the beginning.

The road became rougher, the dust thicker. The Maasai villages grew fewer, and the landscape stretched endlessly before us. Soon, the first zebras appeared on the horizon, followed by graceful antelopes leaping through the golden grass.

Slowly, my initial unease was replaced by a growing sense of wonder. Civilization was now behind me. Adventure lay ahead. The Serengeti was waiting.