Tanzania Volunteer Teaching Trip | Drive into the Unknown: Misadventure in the Dark
The African night had already fallen, thick and heavy, the air warm and humid against our skin. Inside our hotel room, a small conflict was brewing.
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
→ Unexpected Encounters, Meaningful Chats
→ The Night We Shared Our Stories
You've Got a Friend in Me!
The girls had returned from the market exhausted and wanted nothing more than to order takeaway and rest. I, however, was restless. I desperately wanted to go out for a proper dinner, feeling that another night spent indoors would make the day feel wasted.
'I know you girls are tired,' I told them, 'but if I don't go out today, I'll feel like I've missed something important. It's okay — I can go alone.'
I have always been stubborn in that way. Once I set my mind on something, I tend to see it through, with or without company.
The Indian girl noticed my disappointment and, with her usual warmth, said, 'Let's go together! If you really want to go, I'll come with you.' The Seychellois girl quickly chimed in, 'I'm in too.'
In an instant, my energy returned. I immediately searched Google for the nearest well-reviewed restaurant. 'This one is only a ten-minute drive away and closes at ten. We can still make it,' I announced excitedly.
Moments later, we were bundled into a tuk-tuk, heading towards Amani restaurant.
Into the Dark Hills
The streets had no lighting. Only the weak beam of the tuk-tuk's headlamp cut through the darkness, illuminating potholed roads as we left the town behind and plunged into dense, uninhabited woodland. The track grew increasingly rough and winding. What had started as cheerful chatter slowly faded into uneasy silence.
I kept glancing at Google Maps. The direction seemed correct, yet with every minute that passed, doubt crept in. Eventually the driver reached the end of the track, where a heavy iron gate blocked our way, firmly locked.
We looked at each other in confusion. This was supposed to be a restaurant. Why was it padlocked? The reviews online had been plentiful and the navigation had not faltered.
'Is the restaurant open?' the Indian girl asked the driver in English.
He nodded, then turned and spoke in Swahili to a man behind the gate. After a brief exchange, the gate creaked open.
Our anxiety only deepened. Huddled in the back of the tuk-tuk, we whispered urgently to one another.
'Are they going to sell our organs on the black market?'
'Why is he speaking in Swahili to that guy?'
'Who knows? Maybe they're specifically looking for organs from India, Asia and Seychelles — they probably fetch a better price.'
'Stop it! I'm actually scared now… and my back is killing me from this bumpy ride.'
After the gate, the tuk-tuk continued along the dark forest track for another five minutes. Just as we began imagining the worst, the vehicle turned left — and suddenly, lights appeared.
A Grand Restaurant
The restaurant was nestled within a beautiful hotel, hidden deep in the quiet hills. The building was far grander than we had expected, with elegant architecture and warm lighting. It was clearly an upmarket establishment, populated mostly by foreign guests.
'Wow, this is beautiful,' exclaimed the Seychellois girl, who loves life's finer pleasures. 'I'm coming back for lunch tomorrow.'
The Indian girl looked at her outfit. 'Why didn't you tell me it was this fancy? I look like a hobo.'
She was in a hoodie and pajama bottoms, while I had at least managed a skirt. We made quite the mismatched trio, yet somehow it brought us the laughter we needed after that exhilarating ride.
After days of having the same hotel breakfasts, seeing a proper three-course Western menu was a genuine delight. My eyes lingered on the dessert section — 'English Cake'. My mind immediately conjured images of delicate Parisian pastries, and anticipation rose.
We were served a sweet Moscato, followed by salad, soup, and a main of beef kebabs with chips. Everything was comforting. The conversation flowed easily as we ate and drank, the earlier tension long forgotten.
At one point I asked why they had agreed to come with me. One of them replied gently, 'Because I know how much it means to you. I could see you really wanted to go, so I came.'
In that moment, surrounded by the warm lights of a hidden restaurant in the African hills, I felt profoundly grateful for the friends who choose to walk beside you.
The Sweet (Dis)appointment
Then came dessert. A small, rather sad-looking piece of sponge cake arrived, drizzled with a few drops of chocolate sauce.
'What is this?' one of us asked. 'My tongue is bigger than this pudding.'
'Did they run out of cakes and just cut up leftover bread?'
What had been billed as 'English Cake' turned out to be a very modest, almost austere slice of pound cake. We looked at each other and burst into laughter. The contrast between our dramatic journey and this underwhelming finale was too perfect.
We immediately decided that tomorrow's lunch would be elsewhere. In any case, we already had more exciting plans — dressing up properly and heading to the rooftop bar at the five-star Gran Melia hotel for sweeping views over Arusha.
Some adventures, it seems, are memorable not because everything goes smoothly, but because they take you from fear to laughter in the space of one unforgettable evening.
