Khaki Fever Ends

{image from eeweems.com}

I was introduced to the term Khaki Fever at one of my first girls nights in Tanzania. I thought it was a brilliant description of girls falling madly in love with the hunters and all the romantic notions that goes with them. The love struck ladies are either first timers in Tanzania or the daughters, grand daughters or wives (!) of the clients that come along on hunting safaris.

I vowed that I would never be so clichéd and get The Fever! How does that saying go…never say never! 8 months down the line I finally have to admit that I am as boringly predictable as the rest of them. I fell for a hunter.

The seasoned female ex-pat warnings fell on deaf ears and starry eyed months were spent yearning for sms’s from the bush or glorious weeks in between when he was in the city. That is until last week when his hunting safaris ended and the long dreaded fair well had to happen. He has left now to hunt in many different exotic locations until next year July whilst I stay behind to miss his strong arms wrapped around me and gentle unexpected kisses.

So may this very melancholic first post serve as a warning to any other ladies looking for love (or lust) in the dusty bars of Dar. When the hunting season starts, stay away from the often handsome, sun tanned, strong looking guys. They are most probably hunters, the gypsies of Africa. Great manners, always ready for a laugh and a party, the most fun, but inevitably on their way out of the city and away from you…

You were right Bubbles...it's tricky, but we will be ok!

Andizi