Hakuna Matata - The story of how i arrived

"There are two things in this world that I hate. People who are intolerant of other peoples cultures, and the Dutch." I never understood this Austin Powers quip until I boarded my plane to Kilimanjaro. Now unlike other planes of its size this plane had relitively no overhead compartment space. The reason for its construction was obviously to fit as many people on as possible and avoid multiple trips to the scarcely populated area whos only significance to the outside world was the mountain and wildlife. But nonetheless I lucked out. The entire plane was booked except for my row of three seats which were open all to myself. At least at first. During taxi, right as a was about to spread out and close my sleep deprived eyes for the long flight ahead I heard the most disgusting noise behind me. Now I realize that there are cute dutch girls but you have to use all your senses to notice that. If you just heard them you would assume that the gurgling, demanding, and annoying speach could only come from a monster so hear I was with my eyes closed thinking that a monter was behind me. The flight attendant had favored another Dutch couple who couldnt stand the idea of sitting next to an obese Scottish man. And decided to move them to my open aisle. So there I was with no sleep and it didnt seem like I would get any. They bickered and bicked and finally came to the conclusion that I should be adressed. They wanted me to leave so they could have more leg room. I wasnt going to get any sleep with them left and fell asleep next to a foreign exchange student from Indiana who, to my liking, didnt speak much.

        Now I could tell you about the cluster fuck I experienced when I arrived in Kili but the real story begins when I stepped outside. All I saw was a multitude of faces. All holding signs and all pointing to you. To my frustration none of them said Explore Africa. So I did what any sensible person would do while holding 80 pounds of luggage and desperately in need for a hotel bed. "Im looking for Dokken Explore!!" By now i knew none of them spoke english and just wanted my money. Three drivers said "Yah yah im Dokken Explore." And then finally one said "Chad Dokken, come here, here yah yah man hakuna matata". Now for those who dont know. Hakuna matata is Swahili for no worries. But if I only knew what i would experience on the drive to L'Oasis I would worry. For starters our car was broken and only survived the 55km trip uphill to Arusha by a series of startegic engine kills and glides down hills only to start the engine again and fly upill. The second reason was that the Tanzanians dont use normal speed bumps to slow cars down and instead use bunker sized dips in the road (that cars could easily get stuck in) and huge mounds of dirt that force dirvers to veer off the road and then sharply turn back on. I, first hand, lived a off road formula one car race. The while listening to Tanzania jazz the whole time. Now even though we didnt turn once my driver used his turning signals often to tell oncoming drivers to move aside or slow down. A language i havnt wrapped my head around yet. When I arrived though, it was Hakuna Matata. A great dinner in the building pictured, a shower, and The Big Lebowski. I love it here. And even though i woke up at 4am, played three games of scrabble alone, and made art with my in room candle just to let time pass while i waited for breakfast I am alive with energy. The hotels road is located next to a childrens school. And during my sprints up and down the street this morning I became the town bus. Throwing little boys and girls in there best school clothes on my back and dropping them off. Unlike the Dutch everyone here is happy, generous, an loving. Until next time. Hakuna Matata and have a great day.

-Chad A. Dokken