William Of The Pare Mountains

There are no hotels or lodges in the SouthernI went straight to see the mother of William - she gave
Paré of East Africa therefore it is difficult tome a parcel and dispatched me to the Hospital. The
reach this part of Tanzania, that is, difficult for a tourist.Pastor and I met in the hospital mortuary, we chose a
This area does not cater for westerners, except fornice coffin for William. We opened the brown paper
those willing to spend time traveling to find theseparcel. William's mother had given me his suit. The suit
hidden jewels. I have worked on Serengeti safaris,William had never worn, the suit for the wedding just a
climbed Mt Kilimanjaro and traveled several times tofew days before. The Pastor left to pay the medical
Zanzibar. All this was a fantastic adventure but I wasbills and thereby release the body. I watched over the
not quite satisfied. I wanted to experience Africabody of William as the mortuary assistant dressed him
proper, to experience as much of Tanzania as I could.and used super glue to glue his eye lids closed and
It was time to visit somewhere where there werethen his lips.
few, or better still, no tourists, where I wouldWilliam's parents asked me to accompany them to the
experience the real culture of Africa.funeral; William would not be buried in Arusha Town
When my chance came it was, unfortunately, underbut taken "home" to the Paré Mountains.
tragic circumstances. Now I was finally to journeyWe left in a couple of battered 25 seater buses,
deep into the Southern Pare Mountains. I wished thatespecially hired for this trip. The coffin was in the isle
this journey had never presented itself. Theof the bus, and young William's body had begun to
circumstances of this journey began as I lived insmell. We left in the evening at 10 pm. About thirty of
Arusha, Northern Tanzania.us squeezed onto each bus. We raced and rattled
The village where I stayed was called Ngulelo justthrough the darkness, out of Arusha, then through
south of Arusha on the misty slopes of Mount Meru.Moshi town, when, after passing Kilimanjaro to our left,
My near neighbors had befriended me, along with theirwe turned south toward the Pare. After about four
eight-year-old son, William. My Christian name washours of travel, we entered into a very small town
unpronounceable for many Tanzanian's and as mynamed, Somé. Here we left the comfort of the
surname was Williamson I became known in the villagetarmac and traveled for another hour, maybe two,
as William. This sharing of a name with young Williamalong deep sandy roads, lit thankfully by a full moon,
forged a bond between the two of us.shining down from clear skies.
Williams Mother and Father had never been able toEventually we arrived at the base of the mountain
afford a marriage certificate but his business hadrange. It was still dark and therefore impossible to
looked up and William's father had decided he wouldnegotiate the narrow rocky roads up the side of the
marry the mother of his child. The date of the weddingmountains. We parked in a one street town. It was so
was set.quiet, I didn't know it was possible to experience such
The morning of the wedding William was bitten on hisstillness and quiet. As we stretched our legs our voices
face by a dog. He almost lost his eye - he did miss theechoed and ricocheted about the place and we
wedding.wakened the locals. A few roadside stalls opened to
Weddings in Tanzania normally take the wholesell toothbrushes and hot tea and we brushed our
afternoon and evening. Usually, on these and otherteeth out in the open, spiting into the sand. Then sitting
community events, William would sit next to me andon the stone steps of the old buildings drinking black
we would talk and meet people, laughing and cryingsweet spicy tea, we waited for the light of morning.
with the community. William would share theWilliam's father and mother never left the Bus. They
adventures he had experienced since the lastwaited in silence
community event - that is, since the last time we hadAt 6.00am we were off again, this time a steep
spent time together.assent, up and up and up. The mountains here are
I missed William at his parents wedding. I sat alone andbreathtakingly beautiful, rolling into the distance, with
the empty seat I kept for William remained vacant astrees, birds and water everywhere. We took a further
his wounds were tendered to at the hospital. Theninety minutes to get to the home where were to
following day some of the elders thought the dogburry William. The land was terraced and we sat
might have rabbis but others said categorically that itoutside a small house under a tree. The whole
did not have rabbis. William's father was asked to takecommunity had come for the burial. The views were
William for shots just in case the dog was infected.breathtakingly beautiful. We were so high, looking down
William did not go for the shots as the cost wasonto the tops of lesser mountains covered in thick
deemed not worth the hassle and the money, offeredforests and early morning mist. The people were
by the elders for the medication, was refused.warm and welcoming, plying us with more spiced tea.
William died very quickly. I was not present at hisThe buses had arrived with not only the body but
death, so quickly did it occur. Early one morning I metsacks of rice and supplies to cook to supply the
Mama Gifti the wife of the Pastor. It was unusual formasses with food after we had buried William. The
her to be out so early. She stopped me and asked if Iwomen became busy preparing the food, the men sat
heard that William had been admitted with rabbis intoaround in silence, broken now and then with murmurs
hospital the night before. I had not.of conversation.
I then hit me that Mama Gifti was in tradition dress, aThis trip was full of sadness and regret about the
Kanga. The Kanga is two matching pieces of fabric,young boy. We were all feeling we had not done
one tied around the waist, the other used as a shawlenough to save him. The grave was on a steep incline
and instead of the normally colorful print, the kangaclose to the house. As the long funeral dew to a close
was plain white. This traditional piece of attire was notI stood next to the grave and said my goodbyes to a
usually worn by Mama Gifti. This could only mean onevery brave little friend whom I shall never forget. At
thing. The Kanga is worn by all women at funerals.this point the Pastor paused and asked that the only
White is also the color of death.non-African at the funeral say a few words about
William was dead. The men had split into two parties.William. I started to speak of our friendship but my
The Pastor and some of the men had gone to payvoice broke and I wept, I could not continue. Every time
the hospital bill and make arrangements to pick up theI speak of this, tears are not far away. Even now, as I
body. Others had gone in search of William's fatherwrite about this event, my eyes fill with tears and my
who had gone missing, distraught that William had died.lip it trembles.
Blaming himself, he had fled from home to be alone forOne day I plan to return to the Pare Mountains to
a few hours.explore them for myself. To take some time and drink
Mama Gifti told me that as William lay on the hospitalin Africa - away from tourist and phony or
bed the night, before his mother wept. Williamover-organized cultural visits. I will take some flowers
comforted his mother telling her pleases not to cry.and visit the grave of William and even though it is only
'Yes', he told her, 'soon I will die but I go to a bettera grave I will talk to him of all my adventures since our
place'. William died soon after these words. The daylast meeting.
he died was his eighth birthday.