The Most Unlikely of Friendships as presented by Jodi Morris at PechaKucha Santa Fe on Aug 29, 2024
Meet my friend William.
Known as “Maasai Prince,” William stands 6’4”. He’s early 30’s and lives in Dar es Salaam and Bwawani, Tanzania. He speaks four languages. Has more than 10,000 Instagram followers. He’s a musician, translator, cattle herder.
I’m a white woman born in Wisconsin. I’ve lived in New York, San Francisco, and Santa Fe. I’ve traveled the world but only speak English. I’m a LinkedIn advocate and former investment executive. I’m a coach, travel curator and investor.
William and I couldn’t be more different.
Before I share more about us, I have to take you back.
My first visit to Africa was 2002. I was 10 years into my corporate career, two years into dating the man I’d marry, and it was one year after 9/11.
At age 31, I had the restless soul of a mid-lifer.
One morning, I woke up knowing I needed to travel to Africa.
I dreamt of volunteer work with female entrepreneurs, climbing Mount Kilimanjaro, enjoying camping and walking safaris, and sipping wine in South Africa.
That travel combo didn’t exist. So I created it.
On my 7-week multi-faceted venture, I felt inspired and uncomfortable. I made friends and plenty of cultural missteps.
I learned about tribes, family customs and wildlife. I learned most about myself.
Travel is an incredible tool if we go beyond luxury safaris and “third-world country” stereotypes.
Fast forward 15 years. I decide to host my first travel venture in Tanzania. My goal is to connect us to others’ stories–because it changes how we see our own.
I had seen William on a LinkedIn video—A Maasai Warrior. Driving for Uber. In Dar es Salaam.
We had to meet.
William straddles two worlds. His story IS Tanzania’s story.
I love stories, yet spent decades trying to bury my own.
My parents divorced when my mom decided to go back to college to become a nurse.
My dad wasn’t having it.
So she became a single mom who went to college by day, worked in fast-food at night and raised my brother and I.
“Education is the thing no one can take from you,” she said.
I vowed never to be dependent on anyone. I left for college at 17, graduated at 21 and moved to New York.
Education and financial independence were my beacons.
William tells me he ran away from home for an education.
“You don’t need school. You are Maasai,” his father said.
His father. My father. They’re mirrors.
The Maasai tribe live in Kenya & Tanzania. Their culture centers around herding cattle and goats. Maasai men are proud & strong. As Westerners, we romanticize them.
When William’s not driving for Uber, he’s trying to launch a music career.
His first song is RESPECT. The beat is catchy, the video fun, but its message is clear.
In Tanzania, the Maasai are looked down upon. They’re herders, uneducated. “What’s a Maasai even doing in the city?” the women of the video seem to ask.
In 2018, I bring 8 travelers to Tanzania. William, plays his new song LE MAASAI about the importance of education. He’s still saving money to produce the video.
“Why don’t we just Go-Fund-Me it?” a woman asks.
Together, we make the investment.
Among the young people William inspires are his sister.
When Juliana turns 14, their father announces she will marry.
It’s a Maasai tradition. Culturally, cattle are currency. A family can see a dowry of several cows for marrying their daughter.
Juliana wants to follow in William’s footsteps, not her sisters’.
William is heartbroken. I’m heartbroken.
In an email, I share Juliana’s story with people who might have ideas about Tanzanian education.
I am introduced to SEGA—a school for smart, motivated Tanzanian girls finding themselves in this exact situation.
If William can get her there safely—I had no idea of his father’s reaction—I’d find a way to pay for it.
Suddenly, we’re co-investors—furthering the life of a child who isn’t our own.
Days later, Juliana arrives on campus. In four years, with William’s family and fellow travelers, I watch her graduate.
With Juliana on her path, William and I invest in our own—separately and together.
William insists on joining my Tanzania ventures. Over meals and bus rides, he shares his story. We visit his home. We meet his family.
He’s my insight on all things Maasai and Tanzania.
And I love being able to introduce him to new people in his country.
But William’s every day tensions have risen.
While I can’t fully understand, I’m one of the few he can talk to.
He wants to invest in his music career. He needs to be in Dar es Salaam. But someone’s always sick. The cows die due to drought. With his father absent, the family calls on him—constantly.
William has two children of his own. It’s a responsibility most Maasai men leave to the mother. William says they’re unsafe in her home, so they’re raised among his broader family.
“I have 16 mouths to feed,” he says.
We talk about cycles of dependency. William knows he’s furthering one.
But he can’t abandon family like his father.
During COVID, Tanzanian food prices soar. For the first time, William asks me for money.
I fear saying yes.
It’ll change our relationship. It contributes to the Western—African dependency dynamic.
But it’s a pandemic.
William and I talk it through. I send him the money.
It’s been 20 years since my first trip to Africa.
Pulling out my journal, I find advice from my Ghanaian host:
“It’s less about what you do while here. It’s about bringing back and sharing your learnings for years to come.”
I got goosebumps. I’ve been unknowingly carrying out his message ever since.
My friendship with William is one of my favorite stories. It’s beautiful, it’s complex. It takes me beyond the importance of connecting to a deeper question.
What does it mean to invest in each other?
It starts with two people. Not looking AT the mirror. But through it.
View The Most Unlikely of Friendships at PechaKucha Santa Fe (Aug 29, 2024)
PechaKucha is a global (140+ countries) storytelling community that celebrates people, passion, and creative thought. The PechaKucha 20×20 presentation format is a slide show of 20 images, each auto-advancing after 20 seconds. It’s non-stop and each storyteller has 400 seconds to tell their story. Find PechaKucha near you.
Join me in Venture Travel. When you connect to others’ stories, you think differently about your own. Maybe you’ll present at a future PechaKucha! Subscribe to my blog for early updates.
PechaKucha Santa Fe (August 29, 2024)
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