Most people come back from holiday with a few snaps and a tan, but Louise bagged a whole lot more…
Peering up at the departure boards, a tingle of excitement shot through me.
I turned to the group of people surrounding me.
We'd never met before, but we'd all signed up to volunteer in Tanzania.
‘It’s the first time I’ve been to Africa,’ I said to one of the girls.
‘Me too,’ she nodded, as we gathered together at Heathrow airport.
I was 18 and had just left college after studying sports education. I wanted to travel and volunteer.
Twelve hours later the plane landed in Dar es Salaam.
As the door heaved open and I walked down the steps, I was knocked out by the heat.
We piled on to a bus and, four hours later, we arrived at the spot where we were to be trained for the project.
Our task was to build a toilet block at a school.
‘Like this,’ said the team leader, as I picked up a trowel and began to mix cement.
Soon I was happily blending the mixture and slapping it on to bricks.
After two weeks, we travelled to a village and began the building work.
I also taught at the school to show the children the importance of boiling water.
Diseases such as typhoid were rife because the villagers collected untreated water from puddles, the river or a well.
And I suffered with a nasty stomach bug myself as my immune system adapted to its new surroundings.
‘Urgh,’ I said, as cramps tore through my tummy.
After my three months were up, I returned home to Surrey.
I’d worked previously as a lifeguard, so I went back to doing that.
I also rode for a women’s cycling team.
'I can't wait to see you again'
But the lure of travel pulled at me again, so I went to the United States to be a mountain-bike coach for kids at Camp America.
Yet my mind kept returning to Tanzania.
‘I want to go back,’ I said to my mum and dad, once my eight-week stint in America had ended.
And the following year I happily boarded a plane and flew back to Tanzania.
This time I went with a friend – we planned to visit the school and then take a trip around the country.
The team leader of the project had invited us to stay at his house for a week.
But he wasn’t the only person living there.
‘This is my brother,’ he said, introducing me to Hamisi.
As we shook hands, I couldn’t help noticing his lovely smile as he said: ‘Hi.’
Hamisi, 27, was staying with his brother temporarily because his job in the tobacco industry had come to an end.
His English was good and it was so easy to talk to him.
‘I’m trying to find more work,’ he explained, as we talked long into the night.
I told him about my hometown and how I worked as a lifeguard.
‘I’d like to work in something to do with sport,’ I said, telling him about my passion for cycling. ‘Maybe as a personal trainer.’
Quickly we formed a bond, but all too soon it was time to leave and continue the trip.
‘I’ll be back,’ I said, wondering if he liked me as much as I liked him.
Back home, I began to make plans to visit Tanzania the following year.
In the meantime, Hamisi and I messaged constantly.
‘I miss you,’ I confessed.
‘I can’t wait to see you again,’ he said.
But then the pandemic struck.
Tanzania was on the red list and no travellers were allowed in.
For two long years, I imagined Hamisi’s smiling face greeting me.
We both cheered loudly on FaceTime when the travel ban finally lifted, and I booked a three-month stay.
But when I told my friends where I was going and who I was going to see, they urged me to be cautious.
I wondered if they were right, and if I’d still feel the same connection with Hamisi?
When I stepped into arrivals, I spotted Hamisi and a gorgeous smile lit up his face when he saw me.
We hugged and hugged, and then he kissed me.
The connection was definitely still there!
In the following weeks, we relished each other’s company.
Yet we knew the clock was ticking, and we’d only have three months together before we’d be wrenched apart again.
‘We could get married,’ said Hamisi, grinning.
Was he joking? I wondered.
'They can see that we're in love'
I scanned his eyes for a clue, but as he stared back at me, I could see he was serious.
He’d actually proposed!
We’d only been together for a matter of weeks.
But this is my person, I thought.
‘Yes,’ I said, softly, accepting his proposal.
He booked the ceremony at the nearest town hall.
It would be conducted in Swahili — the local language.
Hamisi coached me in the words I needed to memorise.
I was excited, but what about my parents?
I hinted that we were thinking of getting married.
‘Is this the right thing to do?’ asked my mum.
‘Do you know what you’re doing?’ asked my dad, naturally concerned that I might be making a rash decision.
I put off telling them we’d already booked the town hall!
On my wedding day, I felt nervous.
Hamisi’s family arrived, all smiles at me, and so welcoming.
After the ceremony, I told my parents I’d got married.
Their faces betrayed their shock.
But in the following months, Hamisi spoke to them frequently on FaceTime.
‘They can see that we’re in love,’ I said.
Hamisi and I moved into his grandparents’ house, which was made of mud and sticks, in the remote village of Matombo Morogoro.
As I immersed myself in my new life, my initial three-month stay turned into a year.
‘I’ll show you how to use an underground oven,’ said Hamisi.
I watched, as a metal covering was removed from a mound, and wood and straw were dropped down inside the hole below and set ablaze.
Then a plucked chicken was hooked over the top of it.
Genius way of cooking! I thought.
Soon I was joining in. I learnt how to cook on a coal fire too, dishing up rice, beans and chappati.
‘I can see why it’s necessary,’ I laughed to Hamisi when, once again, the electricity got cut off in the middle of the day.
Every Friday, I travelled to the market 15 minutes away to buy food and spices.
The nearest big town was two hours away.
At first, Hamisi had a motorbike, but the roads were poor.
One day, during pouring rain, I felt the wheels skid when I was riding pillion behind him.
The bike lurched into a ditch, narrowly missing a tree.
But now we have a car and we’ve moved into a brick house in the village.
I’ve been back to Britain, but problems getting a visa have stopped Hamisi, so my parents are yet to meet him face to face.
The people here have welcomed me, but sometimes they find me to ask me for money.
‘I try to help but I’m not a walking ATM,’ I said to Hamisi.
I’m doing my best to learn Swahili, but it’s tough, and I miss watching movies and Coronation Street.
But I wouldn’t swap my life with my fabulous husband.
My life is here in this remote and wonderful African village.
Louise Surridge, 24, Matombo Morogoro, Tanzania
To follow Louise’s adventures go to @louiseoutdooradventures on Instagram and @polepolelife on YouTube