Thorns

I remember going to the ever-classy and entertaining Chuck-E-Cheese’s with my whole family many years ago.  I was about 13 years old but somehow got coaxed into accompanying my nieces, who were about half my age and half my size, through those awful mazes of plastic tubing.  I remember fumbling behind them attempting to crawl as their tiny bodies were able to weave and run through the tunnels with ease. 

Every time I go adventuring through the bush to go tracking or find a new tree to climb or  scout out a new spot for our motion-sensor cameras (which is basically every day) I get flashbacks to that day.  Except this time I’m following two skinny and fearless boys through makeshift tunnels in the bush.  And instead of the occasional squif nail that has poked its way through the crappy red plastic, there are thorns.  Everywhere.

I wasn’t really sure what to expect about my new home, particularly regarding location and terrain.  Before I came out here pretty much all I knew was that I was going to be somewhere along Lake Eyasi, which doesn’t say much seeing as I had no city to go on (reasonable explanation being that the closest city that google maps would likely register is Karatu, which is about an hour or two away depending on who’s driving down the bumpy “roads”).   Even more pathetic, I couldn’t figure out for the life of my how to pronounce Eyasi (turns out it’s roughly pronounced ee-yAH-see).  So whenever anyone asked me where in Tanzania I was going, I pretty much said, “The middle of nowhere.”  I knew I was west of Kilimanjaro and in the savannah.  And that was about it.  But honestly, it didn’t really matter to me what it was like as long as it was an adventure (and one that would allow me to further deny the real world and post-college depression). 

In my book, even if an adventure sucks, it’s always a good story. 

So off I went, with pretty much no idea what I was doing or where I was going, just ready to

“do it live”, so to speak. 

Once I finally arrived the first thing that stood out to me was:

Where’s the lake?

But I soon realized that the dry-season turned Lake Eyasi into Eyasi Mud and Dirt Shore. 

Quick next thought:

Holy hell there are a ton of thorns. 

Thorns everywhere. I mean, everywhere.  Tiny prickly thorns, Acacia thorns, two-inch thorns, Wait-a-bit thorns, and all of the brothers and sisters of these nasty thorns.  Even the grass is thorny. 

I permanently have scratches and scars as battle wounds from gallivanting around the bush, also known as my backyard.  And forget about sandals or shorts.  Even with sneakers I often have to stop to remove 3 inch white thorns that have somehow penetrated the thick rubber soles.  I have absolutely no idea how Dylan and the other kids often go barefoot. 

Nearly everyday I go out on adventures around their land (roughly 150 acres) with the boys or Nani or Chris or just by myself, and it’s always a fight.  It’s extremely tough following the boys since they’re so small that they can just squeeze through any hole or past any tree full of thorns without any difficulty.  Hence, the Chuck-E-Cheese maze of the wild.