Tanzania Volunteer Teaching Trip | Laughter, Tequila on Rooftop, and Generous Stranger
After the last lesson of the day I went back to the dormitory and simply waited for night. The four of us girls had talked about this evening for days. A proper farewell dinner on the rooftop of the five-star Gran Melia felt like the right way to mark the end of our time in Tanzania: part celebration, part gentle goodbye. We put on our beautiful outfits, climbed into a tuk-tuk while the light was still kind, and set off hoping to reach the hotel before the sunset.
If you haven’t read the earlier parts yet, you can catch up here:
→ Travelling from Hong Kong to Arusha (IVHQ Experience)
→ The Three Rafikis
→ My First Day as Teacher
→A Girls’ Night That Meant More Than I Expected
→ Moshi Village Coffee and Ancient Underground Caves
→ Unexpected Encounters, Meaningful Chats
→ The Night We Shared Our Stories
→ Drive into the Unknown: Misadventure in the Dark
The Tuk-Tuk at the Grand Entrance
When the little three-wheeler pulled up at the hotel gates we were surrounded by quiet, expensive cars. Our iron tuk-tuk looked almost comic under the bright lights. We quickly message Chris, the private driver we had already booked, to fix the time for the ride back home. Leaving a place like this in the same modest way we had arrived suddenly felt wrong.
As I walked along the hotel corridors the soft lighting and refined interiors felt like another world compared with the simple surroundings of the past few days. It was hard to believe I was still in Arusha, Tanzania. Yet I told myself that once you arrive in a country you ought to see its different faces. Only then can you truly understand how people from different walks of life live on the same land.
Mount Meru and an Exciting Menu
We stepped out of the lift onto the rooftop and the whole view opened up at once. A soft evening breeze drifted past us, and there in the distance lay the wide Tanzanian land with the quiet shape of Mount Meru beyond it. The five-star service was every bit as thoughtful as you would hope. Even though every outdoor table was taken, the waiters still managed to squeeze us into a spot by the window so we could eat while watching the sky slowly darken.
We were all in that ‘this is a rare chance’ mood, and before the night had fully settled we were taking photographs with almost feverish energy. Looking around I couldn’t help wondering whether that little photo frenzy quietly sorted the true regulars from people like us who had come specially to taste a corner of the luxurious world.
When we opened the menu the sheer range of choices nearly brought us to tears of joy. After days of the same unchanging breakfast, lunch and dinner in the dormitory canteen our taste buds had grown thoroughly weary. Our Indian friend was especially excited. As a vegetarian she had been limited mainly to bean curry or cauliflower, so tonight she could finally choose the dishes she truly wanted.
We ordered drinks and food as much as we like. Converted into Hong Kong dollars the whole generous meal cost only three or four hundred. Yet a tuk-tuk driver here earns roughly fifteen Hong Kong dollars for a single trip. The price of our dinner might equal a full day’s wages for him, or even several days’.
I ordered two mojitos one after the other. The first one I clumsily knocked over by more than half, sending ice cubes and mint leaves scattering across the tablecloth. I looked every bit the newly arrived country cousin who had just wandered in from the bush.
Not the Elderly Gentleman We Imagined
A young man in a grey casual jacket walked over. So much for the elderly gentleman. He greeted each of us politely and introduced himself. When we asked about work he said his family ran a telecommunications infrastructure business, then joked that if our phones ever lost signal we should not blame him. That was Vodacom’s problem.
He looked well turned-out: Apple Watch on his wrist, the newest iPhone in his hand. I decided quietly that he was almost certainly a wealthy local second-generation.
In the middle of our chat he rang his sister in Montreal and said, quite calmly, that he would transfer money to her the next day. For a moment I felt I had wandered straight into a dramatic Netflix series.
What did he want? Experience had taught us that strangers rarely buy drinks without a reason. Our Seychellois friend decided to test the water and asked for his Instagram. He said he did not use it, then showed us an empty account with no posts at all. Strange, isn't it?
We raised our glasses. He ordered a second round, then a third. We declined politely, saying we still planned to go to Rafiki Bar and should not drink too much. In truth the Seychellois girl and I had no intention of going. We were flying home the next morning. He remarked that he rarely visited such places and added, almost as a quiet warning, ‘Men go there for a hunt.’
The line stayed with me. Was he not, in his own way, hunting too?
A Bill Waved Away and a Quiet Exit
When the bill reached our table Mr Danny simply waved it aside and said the meal was on him. We protested a little, feeling that was too much from a complete stranger, but the waiter only smiled as if this happened all the time and said generosity was simply part of the man’s character.
Mr Danny stayed a little longer, chatting easily, then left without asking for anyone’s number or lingering even a moment. We sat there in mild confusion, still trying to work out what his intention had been. Only the Seychellois girl remained completely calm. ‘I don’t know how things work in your countries,’ she said with a little laugh, ‘but in Seychelles this sort of thing is quite common. I told you he would pay.’
Later the waiter added one last thought: ‘Mr Danny is very generous. He simply likes to see people happy and enjoying themselves.’
One table, two very different worlds
That night really did open my eyes in two different ways.
First, the gap between rich and poor in Tanzania was wider than I had pictured. Children arrived at school in worn clothes while, on the very same land, someone could casually treat complete strangers to drinks and dinner in a five-star hotel. The pattern felt familiar: the people who control infrastructure and telecommunications tend to sit securely upstream of wealth, almost everywhere you look.
Second, thanks to my friends, I experienced for the first time being treated by a wealthy second-generation. In Hong Kong, even though company bosses have paid for meals before, those luncheons or dinners were always for work. Or suitors paid for the meals in the hope of leaving good impression. To me, a complete stranger simply deciding to buy dinner for people he did not know is almost unheard of. Most exchanges feel calculated and ‘business is business’ in Hong Kong. Mr Danny seemed to live more in the moment. He wanted only to make a connection and enjoy the evening as it was.
Ending my volunteer teaching journey in Africa with such a strange and memorable night felt almost perfect. Early next morning we would be on a plane home, so we did not stay late. As we left the restaurant a light breeze brought a hint of coolness. We promised one another to keep in touch, to visit each other’s countries when we could, or perhaps to plan a girls’ trip of our own.
No one can know what the future holds. Long-distance friendships are never easy to keep. Yet this journey had already given me more than enough. If the friendships could continue beyond it, that would simply be bonus.
‘Mr Danny Would Like to Buy You All a Drink’
We were deep in laughter, the kind that rolls around a table and refuses to settle, when a waiter slipped over and said quietly that a gentleman named Danny at another table wished to buy us a round. We looked at one another, grinned, and decided free drinks were not to be refused. The Canadian girl answered at once, polite and clear: ‘We’ll have tequila, then. And please ask Mr Danny to join us.’
Who on earth was this Mr Danny? We scanned the room and came up empty. I joked that he was probably a seventy-year-old gentleman and put on my best slow, breathy old-man voice: ‘I hope you young ladies enjoy the night.’ Our Seychellois friend, however, looked thoroughly confident. ‘Believe it or not,’ she said, ‘I think Mr Danny is going to settle the whole bill.’
We guessed the Canadian girl must have caught his eye earlier when she walked past his table on the way to the ladies’ room. My own conclusion was simple and more than a little envious: how good it is to be a beautiful girl? I didn't know they get so many perks since nothing like this had ever happened to me. Haha!
Five tequila shots arrived, one placed especially in front of the Canadian girl. ‘Mr Danny will be over shortly,’ the waiter said. Our theory seemed spot on. We sat there with the five little glasses gleaming under the lights, still wondering what sort of mysterious ‘old Danny’ was about to appear.
