Tazanian Symphony

Under a canopy of a sky painted with gold glitter surrounded by the most majestic mountain in the world, each night we lowly interns are treated to a Tanzanian symphony the likes of which I could never have imagined.

It starts a few hours after the sun has gone down. First you hear fire crackling and roasted corn popping. Then, something more familiar, people greeting each other and a melody of Swahili fills the air. As the sky gets darker, the crickets come alive. Each one calling out desperately to the other, as if they each think they are the last two crickets on earth. There's laughter from the men gathered in the dining room as they talk about their days and maybe a last sound bite from "Big Brother Africa". The night settles, the voices fade to sleep and the final act begins. Howling, barking, screeching...dogs who would live a boring daytime TV existence in Canada have full on HBO lives here in Africa. They meet each night to fight, play, eat, and howl at the moon. Their lives, no matter how short, seem eventful as their conversations continue on into the night and stop only when the sun begins to peek over their shoulders.

As the sun comes up, the people come alive once more. Sweeping, cleaning, clearing, cooking...getting ready for another day. Africa it seems...never sleeps. In every nook, under every rock, in every field, in every tree, behind every wall, and under every leaf there is something or someone going about their lives.