Is getting peed on by a monkey good luck?

Let me get this out there: I will never be able to adequately describe the poverty that I saw today. Pictures can't do it justice, either.

We awoke to perfect weather and monkeys playing around in the trees outside our rooms. Apparently, there are several monkeys that live here on the grounds; some black faced vervet monkeys and some black and white colobus monkeys. They're supposedly not too mischievous, but we were warned last night about leaving shiny things unattended outside our rooms.

Breakfast was delicious; fresh tropical fruits, eggs (with white yolks), fresh breads, bacon and/or sausage (pork bacon and sausage, that is). We ate while watching the colobus monkeys do gymnastics in the branches above us and wondering if they ever get the urge to "bomb" al fresco diners.

Kumbi was waiting for us in the reception area, and I introduced myself (sadly, I forgot what his name was, so I just introduced myself and allowed him to introduce himself. I'm absolutely terrible with names). After getting our box lunches packed up, we loaded onto the jeep and set out. Kumbi told us that he's been working with Thomson for over 20 years. As an aside, this is one reason why I chose Thomson: their lack of turnover in key positions.

Our drive to Ilkiding'a took almost an hour and we got to see some of what we missed last night. The drive started out OK, but as we got closer to Arusha, the signs of poverty began to creep in: shanty-town "neighborhoods;" trash everywhere; emaciated stray dogs; cows and goats grazing on the side of the road. When we pulled off the main road and headed up the slopes of Mt. Meru, it got even worse: the pavement gave way to dirt; people carting their water jugs to the central well to fill up to take back to their homes; even more trash; open sewage ditches on the side of the dirt road to carry rainwater, wastewater, and whatever else downhill.

By the time we got up to the village, I think we were all feeling more than a little out of place: definitely not in Kansas anymore. Here we were: 3 "rich white folks" being driven in a bright white Land Rover Defender through some of the worst poverty any of us had ever seen. Maybe my feelings were unfounded, but I imagined those folks watching us drive by and secretly blaming our existence for their situation. We almost got stranded when we got a flat in our left rear tire going over a particularly sharp rock. Thankfully, Kumbi made it to our destination on the flat tire and was able to change it while we were shown around the village.

Our first stop in the village was a small daycare/kindergarten school room taught by a volunteer who introduced herself to us as "Joyce." Most of the kids in there were orphans and she spent every morning trying to teach them basic numbers, colors, words, parts of the body, etc. in Maasai, Swahili, and English. The kids were all so cute and innocent, and it was heartbreaking to know that they have basically been sentenced to this life.

We met our guide for the day, Eli (his real name is much longer), and he showed us their "guestbook" and their little craft "store" where the women in the village sell their beaded jewelry. The "usual" program of activities involves a light hike through the fields to the other parts of the village, but Michele's balky knee put paid to that idea and Kumbi wound up driving us.

We visited with several people in the village; from women drying corn and beans to a guy who fashions Maasai knives from scrap metal and wood handles; to the little kids all over the village. We were able to go into some of their "boma" huts to see what their living quarters are like. It's a completely different lifestyle, that's for sure; totally subsistence based. I did hear a radio playing something, and some of the huts had a single electric light bulb in the main room, powered by solar cells almost certainly donated and installed by some western charity. Everybody was very friendly, but they're somewhat used to visitors since this village is a sort of living museum.

After visiting with these people and seeing how they live, I hope I never complain about some minor problem in my life; like my satellite TV going out in a rain storm, or my cell phone dropping a call, or even car trouble or my washing machine giving up the ghost. We sat with Eli and had some mint tea and decided that it was time to go. It was almost lunch time, but none of us wanted to eat our nice boxed lunches here and appear to be flaunting our bounty, so we packed up the rover and headed to this place called the Cultural Heritage center where the girls could get their shop on.

The cultural heritage center was very nice. The drive there went deeper into Arusha and we were able to get more of a feel for what African "city life" is like, but I don't think we ever really got into the heart of Arusha, so maybe it's more like a normal city than what we saw. It's hard to tell. There was so much stuff available; all from local villages or artists. Angela and Michele were interested in the tanzanite, and I was looking at the paintings. The tanzanite proved to be way more expensive than we expected. Michele had arrived thinking that there are places where she could get large stones for almost nothing, but the retail prices are very "diamond-esque," even after trying to haggle. We settled for some nice paintings that will make good additions to our home's "gallery" and after Kumbi returned from the Thomson office with a new spare, we mounted up and returned to the Rivertrees for a relaxing afternoon.

Once back, Angela and I decided to sit on the deck down by the river and enjoy a cold Kilimanjaro beer and watch the monkeys play in the trees. We met one of our fellow Thomson travelers, Scott from Houston, and introduced ourselves. He and his wife arrived from Amsterdam last night, but just hung around the Rivertrees all day today. As we were making small talk, I noticed rain drops falling on the deck, only there wasn't really a cloud in the sky. Turns out, one of the resident vervet monkeys had, in fact, targeted Scott's head for a shower. We all got a very good laugh out of that and wondered if getting peed on by a monkey in Africa was good luck like getting pooped on by the pigeons in St. Peter's square in Rome. Needless to say, Scott retired to his room to get cleaned up.

It was then that the commotion started. Rivertrees staff raced from their posts to the river and we could hear shouting in the woods. One of the waiters kindly asked us to repair to the restaurant area because someone had attempted to steal a motorcycle and stabbed the owner and the perp was loose in the woods by the river. We had noticed guys on the other side of the river (one of whom was wearing a motorcycle helmet) before the monkey peeing incident but brushed it off as "normal." Over the next hour or so we heard much shouting and yelling punctuated by 2 shotgun blasts and saw numerous people going down to the river and coming back. Angela had gone over to the small gift shop to look at what was there and was talking to the receptionist about why she didn't want to join in all the fun (discrection is the better part of valor everywhere, it turns out), and while they were chatting saw the perp being dragged out toward the road face down by 4 guys. We were saved!

We wound up having dinner with Scott and his wife, Karan, and chatted with them for a good while. We learned about their 2 boys back in Texas and had a very nice evening getting to know them. If the rest of our group is like them, I think we'll have a very nice time.

Our head guide, John, dropped by the hotel on his way to the airport to pick up the rest of the group who are arriving tonight, and said that we were going to have a briefing tomorrow at 8:30 and then mount up and head out to Tarangire. I'm ready to see some wildlife.