William Of The Pare Mountains

There are no hotels or lodges in the Southernof William - she gave me a parcel and dispatched
Paré of East Africa therefore it is difficult tome to the Hospital. The Pastor and I met in the
reach this part of Tanzania, that is, difficult for ahospital mortuary, we chose a nice coffin for
tourist. This area does not cater for westerners,William. We opened the brown paper parcel.
except for those willing to spend time traveling toWilliam's mother had given me his suit. The suit
find these hidden jewels. I have worked onWilliam had never worn, the suit for the wedding
Serengeti safaris, climbed Mt Kilimanjaro andjust a few days before. The Pastor left to pay
traveled several times to Zanzibar. All this was athe medical bills and thereby release the body. I
fantastic adventure but I was not quite satisfied. Iwatched over the body of William as the
wanted to experience Africa proper, tomortuary assistant dressed him and used super
experience as much of Tanzania as I could. It wasglue to glue his eye lids closed and then his lips.
time to visit somewhere where there were few,William's parents asked me to accompany them
or better still, no tourists, where I wouldto the funeral; William would not be buried in
experience the real culture of Africa. When myArusha Town but taken "home" to the Paré
chance came it was, unfortunately, under tragicMountains. We left in a couple of battered 25
circumstances. Now I was finally to journey deepseater buses, especially hired for this trip. The
into the Southern Pare Mountains. I wished thatcoffin was in the isle of the bus, and young
this journey had never presented itself. TheWilliam's body had begun to smell. We left in the
circumstances of this journey began as I lived inevening at 10 pm. About thirty of us squeezed
Arusha, Northern Tanzania. The village where Ionto each bus. We raced and rattled through the
stayed was called Ngulelo just south of Arusha ondarkness, out of Arusha, then through Moshi
the misty slopes of Mount Meru. My neartown, when, after passing Kilimanjaro to our left,
neighbors had befriended me, along with theirwe turned south toward the Pare. After about
eight-year-old son, William. My Christian name wasfour hours of travel, we entered into a very small
unpronounceable for many Tanzanian's and as mytown named, Somé. Here we left the
surname was Williamson I became known in thecomfort of the tarmac and traveled for another
village as William. This sharing of a name withhour, maybe two, along deep sandy roads, lit
young William forged a bond between the two ofthankfully by a full moon, shining down from clear
us. Williams Mother and Father had never beenskies. Eventually we arrived at the base of the
able to afford a marriage certificate but hismountain range. It was still dark and therefore
business had looked up and William's father hadimpossible to negotiate the narrow rocky roads
decided he would marry the mother of his child.up the side of the mountains. We parked in a one
The date of the wedding was set. The morningstreet town. It was so quiet, I didn't know it was
of the wedding William was bitten on his face bypossible to experience such stillness and quiet. As
a dog. He almost lost his eye - he did miss thewe stretched our legs our voices echoed and
wedding. Weddings in Tanzania normally take thericocheted about the place and we wakened the
whole afternoon and evening. Usually, on theselocals. A few roadside stalls opened to sell
and other community events, William would sittoothbrushes and hot tea and we brushed our
next to me and we would talk and meet people,teeth out in the open, spiting into the sand. Then
laughing and crying with the community. Williamsitting on the stone steps of the old buildings
would share the adventures he had experienceddrinking black sweet spicy tea, we waited for the
since the last community event - that is, since thelight of morning. William's father and mother never
last time we had spent time together. I missedleft the Bus. They waited in silence At 6.00am we
William at his parents wedding. I sat alone and thewere off again, this time a steep assent, up and
empty seat I kept for William remained vacant asup and up. The mountains here are breathtakingly
his wounds were tendered to at the hospital. Thebeautiful, rolling into the distance, with trees, birds
following day some of the elders thought the dogand water everywhere. We took a further ninety
might have rabbis but others said categoricallyminutes to get to the home where were to burry
that it did not have rabbis. William's father wasWilliam. The land was terraced and we sat outside
asked to take William for shots just in case thea small house under a tree. The whole community
dog was infected. William did not go for the shotshad come for the burial. The views were
as the cost was deemed not worth the hasslebreathtakingly beautiful. We were so high, looking
and the money, offered by the elders for thedown onto the tops of lesser mountains covered
medication, was refused. William died very quickly.in thick forests and early morning mist. The
I was not present at his death, so quickly did itpeople were warm and welcoming, plying us with
occur. Early one morning I met Mama Gifti themore spiced tea. The buses had arrived with not
wife of the Pastor. It was unusual for her to beonly the body but sacks of rice and supplies to
out so early. She stopped me and asked if Icook to supply the masses with food after we
heard that William had been admitted with rabbishad buried William. The women became busy
into hospital the night before. I had not. I then hitpreparing the food, the men sat around in silence,
me that Mama Gifti was in tradition dress, abroken now and then with murmurs of
Kanga. The Kanga is two matching pieces ofconversation. This trip was full of sadness and
fabric, one tied around the waist, the other usedregret about the young boy. We were all feeling
as a shawl and instead of the normally colorfulwe had not done enough to save him. The grave
print, the kanga was plain white. This traditionalwas on a steep incline close to the house. As the
piece of attire was not usually worn by Mamalong funeral dew to a close I stood next to the
Gifti. This could only mean one thing. The Kanga isgrave and said my goodbyes to a very brave
worn by all women at funerals. White is also thelittle friend whom I shall never forget. At this point
color of death. William was dead. The men hadthe Pastor paused and asked that the only
split into two parties. The Pastor and some of thenon-African at the funeral say a few words about
men had gone to pay the hospital bill and makeWilliam. I started to speak of our friendship but
arrangements to pick up the body. Others hadmy voice broke and I wept, I could not continue.
gone in search of William's father who had goneEvery time I speak of this, tears are not far
missing, distraught that William had died. Blamingaway. Even now, as I write about this event, my
himself, he had fled from home to be alone for aeyes fill with tears and my lip it trembles. One day
few hours. Mama Gifti told me that as William layI plan to return to the Pare Mountains to explore
on the hospital bed the night, before his motherthem for myself. To take some time and drink in
wept. William comforted his mother telling herAfrica - away from tourist and phony or
pleases not to cry. 'Yes', he told her, 'soon I willover-organized cultural visits. I will take some
die but I go to a better place'. William died soonflowers and visit the grave of William and even
after these words. The day he died was histhough it is only a grave I will talk to him of all my
eighth birthday. I went straight to see the motheradventures since our last meeting.