One of the best things about the past month has been the opportunity to meet a diverse and interesting group of people. Some are fascinating, and I enjoy every minute I spend with them. Others, I must confess, occassionally drive me nuts. All have made up the rich cast of characters in this movie that is my adventure in Tanzania.
One of my favourites is a young Mexican student whom I shall call "Antonio", for that is his name. Antonio is from Mexico City, but he lives in London where he attends graduate school. Although he lives in Mexico City, Antonio's true home is Chiapas province, where he has done work with indigenous tribes.
Unlike most of the people whom I've met on this trip, people who are either locals or volunteers, Antonio came to Tanzania on a personal quest: he came to bury his friend. Or rather, he came bearing the ashes of a Zanzibar-born friend who died in a traffic accident in Mexico. The purpose of his trip was to scatter the ashes on his friend's island home.
I met Antonio on my safari, and I saw him again on the weekend I visited Zanzibar. On both occasions I was lucky enough to be his roommate, a match that was perfect since both of us suffered from insomnia. Since neither could sleep, we talked a lot. We talked about novels and poetry and plays; we talked about movies we had seen; we had talked about music and songs that we knew.
Antonio was a font of the good, old-fashioned Mexican songs that came out of the Revolution, and he did his best to teach me the words to Cielito Lindo, my favourite of such tunes and the unofficial anthem of the group that gathered in Kendwa. I may not be able to sing the verses, but I still can sing the chorus - Ay, ay, yay yay,/ Canta y no llores,/ Porque cantando se alegran/ Cielito lindo los corozones - without resorting to the alternate lyrics that feature the Frito Bandito.
Antonio is also the subject of a poem, For a Melancholic Friend.
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