I spent New Year’s away from everyone I knew, in a place where no one expected me to belong. Part of me was anxious. It was my first time in Mufindi, and my booking showed the lodge was far from town. A few what-ifs crept in. What if something happened and I needed to get back? What if I had misjudged the distance, or the quiet?
This wasn’t my first solo trip, but it felt different because the choice was more deliberate. I was intentional about how I wanted 2026 to begin. I was intentional about loving all that comes with me. However much I try, this is the company that will always be with me.
My first New Year’s alone was in 2024, when I spent it hiking to Lake Ngosi. That afternoon, the lake reflected its surroundings, its colour shifting with the weather, leaving me in a state of wonder. I promised myself then that I would begin my years in nature, because that is where I feel most at home and grounded.
Seven hours and 254 kilometres later, I was on the road from Mafinga to the lodge. I met my driver, Fred, in town. I had my Kindle ready, finishing up Strange Weather in Tokyo, expecting to retreat into my own world. But before I returned to my story, Fred began asking about my journey from Mbeya. Normally, I would have kept the conversation short. This time, I didn’t mind his questions at all.
Our conversation moved from small talk to youth unemployment. He spoke about his sister, who had finished university a year ago with a degree in Insurance and was still searching for work. As we drove past tea plantations, we spoke about ownership and opportunity in the sector.
The plantations stretched for miles. Green against green. I wondered what it would be like to leave my current city life and start afresh in Mufindi or Mbeya. I asked Fred how one might acquire land, what life would look like here.
We finally started the stretch from the lodge’s gate to the cottages. It is such a long stretch. We drove beneath huge trees, passing through the lodge’s water sources. On the left, Fred pointed out an orphan centre run by the lodge.
It was already getting dark when we reached the parking lot, where Nashon, my host, was waiting for me. I was in awe of the gardens and the views. All those hours on the road suddenly felt worth it. Amid the dense forest, my heart was thankful.
“Dinner is served at 7:30 pm, lunch is at 1 pm, and breakfast is ready from 7 am,” Nashon told me as he took me to my room. I couldn’t help but wear a wide smile. I would be spending two nights here.
We got to cottage 4, my home for two nights. When I stepped inside, I sat for a good five minutes in the company of birdsong just a few steps from where I rested. No cars speeding off, only to stop at traffic lights. The contrast was immediate.
I dragged myself from one of the two beds to familiarise myself with this new home. The bathroom was simple, built with environmental preservation in mind. I looked at myself in the mirror and told myself,
“You are here. Be here.”
At dinner, I went to the balcony as I waited. A group of people sat by the fireplace. I pulled up a chair, said hello, and joined them briefly, but I felt out of place and excused myself. The balcony was dark, lit occasionally by thunder flashing across the sky.
A couple on my left was listening to music, a bit loud. I judged them for a second. I craved quiet, and I thought they should too. I called myself out and let them live how they liked. I ordered a cider.
At my table for one at the back of the dining area, I took it all in. Couples filled the room. On my right sat a woman with her son. I later learned her name was Martha. They greeted me cheerfully. It made me feel like I belonged.
The food was fresh, farm-to-table. As I ate, I thought of my mother’s cooking and of the farmers who make such meals possible.
I slept deeply. It was a calm New Year’s Eve, accompanied by thunderstorms and soft rain. There was no countdown. Just stillness.
I woke up to birdsong at the window. No alarm needed. I stepped outside and gave thanks for being part of this view. White and pink roses beside my cottage greeted me.
I enjoyed my coffee slowly, watching Martha and her son laugh as they spoke. Their easy warmth remained the highlight of my stay. We planned to go horse riding together. It would be my first time.
Before my 10:45 session, I walked to the lake with Happy Place by Emily Henry. Ducks moved gently across the artificial lake. Two women rode horses in the distance. The morning felt steady.
My horse’s name was Rafiki. I began with a little fear. As I settled, so did he. We rode between the trees, passing sheep and goats guarded by two attentive dogs. The farm moved in its own rhythm.
Later that afternoon, Martha and I met again for milking. I had done it before growing up, but this time I went for the company. We spoke about work in the development sector, about books, and about family.
“I was so shocked and impressed to see that you are here by yourself,” she told me. “It takes courage to travel alone, especially on New Year’s.”
I told her it is becoming one of my favourite things to do. I have learned to enjoy my own company. It took time to become comfortable with who I am, but I have come to love all that comes with me. I value solitude, but I also value company that moves beyond surface conversation.
We had dinner together that night, my last at the farm. Before bed, I wrote myself a letter filled with hopes and prayers for the year ahead. I have not read it again. I will read it on 31 December.
Mufindi Highland Lodge reminded me that I can love my solitude and still leave the door open for community. Yes, I went alone, but I never felt alone while I was there.
Always,
Jane 🙂