A cacophony inundates the streets of Arusha, Tanzania, and two uninvited teenage boys leech onto Harriet and me. They are now our "unofficial" tour guides.
They trail us from place to place, through the food market to the airplane ticket office, and even wait outside a restaurant while we eat. They are persistent in showing us their artwork and want us to give them money, as after all, they are our tour guides.
The aggression is overwhelming, and with our annoyance levels blood red, we seek solace at the Tanzania Tourist Board.
Electing for a half-day tour to Ng'iresi village, a lanky, soft-spoken man introduces himself as Emmanuelle. His gentle voice is music to our ears.
We happily endure the bumpy ride on dusty mud roads to his village, 7 km out of town. It is scattered along the steep, lush slopes of Mt. Meru and includes a 3km precipitous hike up the mountain.
The Wa-arusha, an offshoot of the Maasai, has shifted from semi-nomadic to stable agriculture. Eating only what they grow and using all parts of the plants, they use every living thing.
Instead of using animals as meat, cows are used for milk, and chickens for eggs. People barter for sugar, salt, rice, and meat, which is eaten only on special occasions.
Families still live in traditional bombas, and all homes are similarly constructed. The roof is thatched from banana trees, and a concoction of plaster, cow dung, and ashes forms the walls.
The smoky kitchen is in the middle of the small round hut. The black fumes replace the air, making breathing difficult.
Cows occupy the right side, as traditionally they sleep in the hut. The women sleep on the left, and the boys sleep up front so they can protect the family.
Our hosts have no personal possessions except for some bowls and plates, a few clothes, and some shoes. Harriet remarks, "We took more on our three-week trip than these people own."
It's incredibly true. It's amazing how much stuff we own and don't need. And this simple life exists just down the road from the bustling, dangerous, and consumer-driven town of Arusha. Our society is based on now, and more; theirs is based on basics and essentials.
The roofs need replacing before every rainy season, and the walls need re-plastering every six months. The village pitches in to help build houses, plant crops, and care for the animals. Emmanuelle notes, "If someone is sick, the people in the village carry him down the mountain's steep slopes."
With this dynamic sense of community, the village is one family, and traditions hold integrity. We have lost so much since the industrial age: culture, tradition, a tight community, and the idea of helping your neighbor without ulterior motives.
Emptiness in our lives is filled with stuff instead of loving and caring human relationships. We have lost this connection with the past, while they struggle to keep it alive.
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About the Author: Lauren Becker is a filmmaker turned travel writer lucky enough to travel the world for work and fun. She enjoys sharing her experiences through the written word, the still photograph, and the moving image. Read more at her website, laurenbecker.net, or follow her on Twitter @filmlb.
