Maasai Mara, am I part of you?
Don’t you think, that our human insecurities have long been eroding our relationships with each other and with nature?
How do we define “strangers”?
What if our eyes meet, what if we smile at each other, even if it is only a glance? In that moment, as our souls connect through our eyes, we become a part of each other’s lives, even if just for a second.
The average human lifespan worldwide is 71 years, which means we have an average of 2,240,543,592 seconds to live. As we spend about one-third of our lives sleeping, we have 1,420,607,592 seconds left.
If someone appears in one of those many seconds of our seemingly endless breaths, maybe that person is significant, too.
You don’t realize how small the probability is of making eye contact, interacting, and communicating with people among the many in the world.
Today, I want to write to Tommy and Sammy, who were supposed to be strangers.
We met during a brief trip to the Maasai Mara. Despite it lasting only three or four days, they left an indelible mark on my life.
Tommy and Sammy, our driver and guide, were the first to teach me about trust and doubt in Africa. We are so adept at protecting ourselves, navigating between trust and mistrust, weighing our words and actions with others, and moving through the world this way.
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They were candid, people who held a deep respect for nature. We had disagreements over budget handling and itinerary arrangements, but they were merely differences in perspective. Later, on the way back, I sat with them at a rest stop, drinking coffee. Sammy said, “We are your big brothers. Don’t hesitate to voice your doubts.”
So, I expressed my thoughts and gained their perspective in return.
“In the end, people just want to gain the most benefit or suffer the least loss. In this world, there is no right or wrong, only the human heart’s interpretation of things.”
I looked at them and nodded solemnly. Thank you.
That day on the savannah, we saw countless wild animals roaming freely, though their habitat was gradually shrinking due to the constant construction of fences and electric barriers.
Our human insecurities have long been eroding our relationships with each other and with nature. This is the saddest part because we can return to our true, simple selves in nature.
Tommy looked at the distant elephants, the birds hidden in the grass, and the cheetahs, silently but with a smile on his lips. I raised my camera towards him, and he gave me a bright smile, like a child.
“I have confidence that you will see many animals, both common and rare because I can feel that you are a group of kind-hearted children,” Sammy said before we set off.
On the savannah, just as he said, we were incredibly fortunate. The tears of friends, the cinematic interactions between wild beasts, and all the rare animals that appeared that day. Through the intense sunshine and the baptism of rain, we sat in the four-wheel-drive vehicle, sometimes silent, sometimes moved, sometimes in disbelief, and sometimes questioning ourselves, “In such a vast world, who are we?”
Thus, Tommy and Sammy appeared in my life, not just for a second, but for countless seconds. As my heart continually expanded and grew in those fleeting moments, they inadvertently witnessed it. I am grateful for their presence.
May you and your families always be at peace, safe, and happy.
