The very first person we met in Tanzania was Kileo. He was waiting for us at the airport when we landed, a warm and welcoming presence in a place that was completely new to us. From that first day until his retirement, Kileo guided us through countless adventures across Tanzania.Guiding was more than a job for Kileo. It was his passion. He genuinely loved people, he loved sharing Tanzania with others, and he absolutely adored birds. Over the years, we came to affectionately call him “Babu,” which means Grandpa in Swahili. (I am now called Babu by my Grandchildren and Ally is called Bibi – Grandmother in Swahili).
Out on safari, Babu would tell story after story. Some were rooted in fact, while others may have included a little imagination. But it never really mattered. Every story was entertaining, and every one became part of our memories of Tanzania.I can still hear him describing warthog mothers, Pumba, racing through the tall grass with their tails sticking straight up in the air. “Poof, poof, poof,” he would say with a huge grin, explaining that the little ones could follow their mother’s scent and always find their way back to her.Then there was his story about how Ngorongoro Crater got its name. According to Babu, it came from the sound of the Maasai cowbells ringing as the cattle walked. “Gong, gong, gong,” he would say.
Whether every detail was completely accurate never mattered to us. What mattered was the joy with which he told the stories and the laughter we shared together. Even today, I can still hear his voice and remember those moments.Every time we returned to Tanzania, Kileo was there, waiting for us with that familiar smile. After a while, it no longer felt like we were returning to meet our guide. It felt like we were coming home to see family. And in so many ways, that is exactly what we had become.
Our last safari with Kileo was in 2019. We were visiting Olduvai Gorge, the legendary place where some of the discoveries that transformed our understanding of early humanity were made. As we sat together, Kileo quietly told us that this would be his final trip.He explained that it was time for him to step aside and allow the next generation of guides to have their opportunity.
I will never forget that conversation.
Tears filled his eyes as he spoke about his uncertainty for the future and how he and his wife would manage financially. My heart broke for him. Here was a man who had spent so much of his life taking care of others, sharing his country, his knowledge, his stories, and his joy, and now he was facing a future filled with uncertainty. Yet through it all, Kileo’s faith never wavered. His trust in God was an important part of who he was, and he believed deeply that God would see him through.
In March 2022, we had the opportunity to meet Kileo for lunch. During our conversation, he told us that he had been building a duplex that he hoped would provide income for him and his wife during retirement. Unfortunately, Covid had brought the project to a stop.The building was almost finished. All that remained was painting and a few final touches. He told us it would take about $1,000 to complete everything.
I looked at Ally.
She immediately knew what I was thinking.
There was never really a question about what we were going to do. We sent him the money so he could finish the duplex and have the source of income he had worked so hard to create. His gratitude was overwhelming.
Kileo cried as he thanked us again and again.
“You have saved us,” he said.
Two weeks later, I received a text from him.
“Kaka, Brother David. Thanks so much again and may the good Lord take you safe wherever you go. My wife and I couldn’t believe. You saved our lives. Ahsante Sana Sana. Thank you very, very much.”
In April, he sent another message wishing Ally and me a Happy Easter and reminding us that we were under God’s protection.
It would be the last message we ever received from him.
Just days later, as Kileo was preparing to go to church, he was called home.
Here we arew with Kileo for the last time.
Losing him was incredibly difficult. He had been part of our lives and our Tanzania story from the very beginning. He was there when Tanzania was still a new and unfamiliar place to us, and over the years, he became part of the reason it eventually felt like home.
We miss him deeply.
But there is also comfort in knowing that we were able to be part of his life, just as he was such an important part of ours. We are grateful that, when he needed it most, we were able to help him complete something that would continue providing for his wife. And we are thankful to know that she is doing well today.
Kileo gave us far more than safari experiences. He gave us stories we still tell, laughter we can still hear, lessons we still remember, and a friendship we will always treasure.
His stories live on.
His laughter lives on.
And his kindness will always be part of our memories of Tanzania.
We miss you, Babu.
We love you, dear friend.
Ahsante Sana Sana for everything.
