25 Oct The Kingdom of the lion

Lawrence of Arabia said that all men dream, albeit in different ways, but that those who dream by day are dangerous men because they can open their eyes, act and try to make their fantasies come true.

And so I appeared in Tanzania, aboard a miniscule taxi-tricycle, the bajaji, accompanying seven of those dangerous madmen, who were either searching for herds of elephants, sailing among hippos or getting lost in a forest of gigantic baobabs, while they were making their old dreams come true. Nothing like the bajaji to transport dreams, adventures, laughter, and little else fits, and that is why they exert in me a permanent temptation, which has already led me to travel in them some areas of Chad or northern Tanzania, and even try to cross the Danakil Desert, the most inhospitable place in the world, something I left pending for next time, maybe this winter... inshaallah.

I remember that we left Dar es Salaam fleeing the tourist routes of the north, heading south, where my compass always points, driven by a huge desire to walk the world and start the great adventure. An adventure whose secret entrance was on a hidden terrace, dominating the Rufiji River.

I really like that place in the Selous reserve, there, with no other company than a family of hippos and a half-sleeping crocodile, the spirit awakens and it is impossible not to fall into the temptation of the wildest Africa. That terrace is the gateway to the Kingdom of the lion. There, only the lion rules.

The place becomes even more special at sunset, the sky is clear, the wind is fresh and the horizon is purple. It is a unique moment, when the heat drops, everything becomes peaceful and quiet as the smells and colours of the land change. It is time to enjoy the views, between vague conversations and deep thoughts while huge flocks of bats take flight and thousands of birds come looking for shelter among the trees. As night falls, all you hear is the continuous snoring, mostly of hippos, the trumpeting of nearby elephants, and sometimes, if you are lucky, you can hear the roar of a lion marking its territory. And with even more luck you'll hear the opening of an ice-cold bottle of beer. Nothing like that sound to break the spell of the moment, or to make it unforgettable.

Distant drums can also be heard, it is the heart of Africa that beats. They say that when the moon appears, all of Africa dances, except me, as I'm more of a barker. Or maybe it's the heartbeat of Selous, the great hunter, who is not far away. He stayed there, where he belonged, he died fighting the Germans and they buried him there, in the shade of a tamarind tree.

The night, the fire and the wine invite us to recall the adventures of the day until tiredness overcomes us: the boat safari through the labyrinth of canals of the Rufiji River, watching animals coming to drink on the shore, that group of lionesses dozing under an acacia tree or the beers in the village of Matambwe and the danger of returning to the lodge on those tuned motorbike taxis, the piki piki, with several elephants along the road. And so, one after the other, we recall anecdotes of the day until the most awaited moment of the night arrives, when they finally let me tell some old story... And then everything is peaceful again.

After Selous, my nomadic spirit insists on following the Southern Cross and going down to the Ruwuma River on the border with Mozambique, looking for the secret of the Makonde, adventure in its purest form. Nor is it a bad plan to head west, through areas of rainforest, small villages and herds of wild animals, to Ruaha National Park, the cradle of the Hehe empire, the best place in the world to see African wild dogs, the most lethal hunter in Africa.

But this time, albeit reluctantly, the group is "looser" and we try to see what it's like to follow the set plans and head northwest, accepting the challenge of Ol Donyo Lengai, the sacred volcano of the Maasai, the abode of the gods.

It doesn't matter where you are going, everything is impressive, it is a land that was created so that everyone can live their own illusions at least once in their lives. Along the way we accumulate memories, of which I reserve three sunsets and no sunrises, which have always cost me the most. The third on my list was in Tarangire, watching the sunset while dozens of elephants walked in line towards some secret place, as if moved by some strange spring or following an imaginary flute player.

The second moment came during a piki piki excursion to watch the sunset on the shores of Lake Manyara. I remember feeling happy on the bike among baobabs, Maasai herdsmen returning to their villages and herds of wildebeest in procession, like souls in mourning.

But the best of my Tanzanian sunsets always take place on the shores of Lake Natron, Tanzania's hidden gem. I like to climb up on a rock and enjoy the evening breeze, the strange colour of the shores and the peace of the flamingos. I know there are other lives, but I like this one (I mean mine, not the flamingos').

At the foot of the lake rises menacingly the perfect cone of Ol Donyo Lengai. The last gift of the trip is at the top, but you have to go up to get it. The view over the lake from the crater is breathtaking, in the middle of the Avenue of the Volcanoes, where Empakai, Ngorongoro and up to eight craters have been dozing for a long time. You can also see the steep walls of the Rift Strip and in the background the mass of Kilimanjaro and the Ndutu plains dotted with Maasai villages, and Kenya... You can see all that. Only from above...

And once again, up there I realise that the adventure is over and then I feel nostalgic and remember how I got there: as always, because of a fire, some friends, some wines and a no hay....

I leave you with some photographs of baobabs that I took on that trip, which may not say anything, but I'm sure someone will understand these strange tastes of mine.