Kilimanjaro Climb Prolouge

From Russia With Love

So before I get into the sordid details of the climb proper, let's talk about the day or so before. No, I'm not going to mention that ridiculous dala dala I saw with the motif 'doggy style' emblazoned on the side in yellow letters..

So we had all our gear and it was time to start taking our Diamox ie a wonder drug that aids faster acclimatisation to altitude. Makes you breath faster or thickens your blood or something...has some side effects (tingling in extremities, a feeling like being drunk etc)so we had our dose a day before we were due to climb.

And man did I feel it. I felt drunk, disorientated. Just had to hope the effects would wear off a bit. In order to relax we decided to check out the new Moshi movie theater that Friday night to see the new Stallone movie 'The Expendables'. The decor of the theater was nice (with animal heads and wrestling playing on the tv by a bar) and the people working there were very earnest...however when the 'film' began it became quickly clear it was a dodgy Russian (as evidenced by Russian subtitles) pirated copy. Poor picture and awful bass heavy sound. Stallone is hard enough to understand at the best of times let alone in this execrable print.

Still the staff were nice, popping in during action sequences to ask me what I thought of the picture and sound...um....simbaya (not bad) At some point it all became quite funny and I laughed gaily at the poorly rendered explosions and Stallone mumblings.

Saturday we met our guide Chunga, who came round to our house to inspect our gear and brief us on the route. He seemed like a good guy, who I could trust my and my wife's life too. Our gear passed muster and he promised to come pick us up Monday morning. Needless to say at Mass that Sunday I offered many grovelling/bargaining prayers to the Man Upstairs asking for a safe return and uneventful climb...we would see.

To be continued...

Just a man and his will to survive...

Fun Facts!- NZ's highest peak, Aoraki/Mt Cook is 12,316 feet high.
Kilimanjaro is 19, 341 feet above sea level. It is the highest free standing mountain in the world.

It’s Friday. Just collected our last bits of gear, poles, jackets and yeti repellent (so weird to have to get cold weather gear this close to the Equator). Meeting the tour company on Saturday to talk strategy. Start climbing on Monday.

The first rule of climbing Kilimanjaro is that the wife returns safe and well. The second rule of climbing Kilimanjaro is...the wife returns safe and well!

Aside from that…I’m gonna give that Mountain hell. Get some hustle behind this muscle. Eye of the Tiger. I can keep up ridiculous 80's movie inspirational references all day. Yes, I'm a bit concerned about physical exhaustion, sleep and oxygen deprivation, asthma, fatal plunges, incompetent guides, high percentages of people who turn back etc etc. Just gotta hold onto my crazy self belief that heart will be just enough to get me through. Let's not talk about how the ankle I twisted a couple of weeks ago is still hurting a bit or that all the bug spray people are spraying around (as a lot of mosquitos at the mo) has brought my asthma back a bit...

Look, seeing panoramic photos of Kili in June 2009 is what sold this Moshi assignment to me in the first place, so now its time to take it bring it full circle. It aint over till its over. Gonna fly now.

Dunno when I’ll next update the blog, maybe sooner, maybe a lot later. Prayers for a successful, safe ascent appreciated.



'Yo Adrian, let's do this thing'

Mke earning her money

Franatee writes:

Last Friday my counterpart and I headed out to deliver food supplements (lishe- a type of nutritious porridge) to children in the village of Tarakea. Many of the children getting the supplements are HIV positive. I'm surprised I haven't been more upset by this. But in many ways you just kind of get on with the job. Something I do have a problem with though is the length of time it took for this trip to happen. Assessments for these children, which included home visits, were carried out back in August and it's been an uphill battle to convince my NGO that the stuff needs to go out. I'm wondering if the reason the delivery finally got the green light was because we were running out of storage space…

On the drive out my counterpart and I saw a few guys running with machetes (there's always something very unnerving about that…We drove on and saw a couple of women beating each other up with a crowd surrounding them. My counterpart stopped to chat to them and I heard things like "mume wangu" (my husband), "alisema nakupenda" (he said I love you) etc etc so soon figured out that the fight was all about some love rat. (Mume interjects-man points!) My counterpart loaded the women into the Land Rover and we dropped them off at the local police station where they could sort things out. Dramas! Who needs Shortland Street?

Anyhoo, headed on to the patient support centre to distribute the food supplements. Met with a volunteer who does a lot of work with people out in the villages and he helped us with the food distributions. It was good to see that those children who turned up with their guardians were looking better than they had back in August. Maybe it was that their animals were providing more eggs, goat milk etc due to the change in weather, or maybe it was because the last time I'd seen them was in their homes, some of which were little mud huts, or perhaps I've just become desensitised the longer I've been here (I hope not).

Not all the children turned up though and it was very concerning to hear that one of the children was in hospital.

Tanzania can be really frustrating at times. Being told by my manager that I'm worrying too much, being inflexible, and that the children already get fed, only to hear that a child has had to go to hospital… yeah. Would it have made a difference to the child's health if the supplement had been delivered earlier? You could drive yourself crazy just dwelling on it. Sometimes it gets really frustrating being a volunteer. I have much less power to compel people to do things than I would like. But I digress…

I was happy to see a newborn baby turn up with his older sister and parents. I'd been in touch with the volunteer in the village a couple of months before to make sure the family knew what to do about preventing parent to child transmission of HIV. He said the child was healthy so was very pleased to hear that. If HIV positive parents get proper training and advice from a health provider, which they follow then they can prevent their unborn child from getting HIV.

We finished up and headed back to Moshi to start the weekend. Happy to have made some progress.

Mke

The day I cracked the system

Its a weekday and I'm in Arusha. Wanted to see the UN Criminal Court again plus get some allowance from my handler here. The bus drove in past a nice view of Kili over plains showing evidence of the recent rains with new green shoots. I read the Tanzanian sections of Paul Theroux's travelogue 'Dark Star Safari' as we tootled along. His tales of apathy, small mindedness, things falling apart, dilapidation, people preying on white people annoyed me with its authenticity. Put me in a bad mood. Some aspects of working /living here I will not miss at all. But, the negativity is only part of the picture but not the whole picture. Happy thoughts, happy thoughts.

Anyway, so in a grumpy mood I taxied to the UN Criminal Court hoping to see a slice of Rwanda war crimes drama. I got to the main gate where a white UN worker was having a drama with the Tanzanian Guards because she had lost her pass. I waited to hand my passport over as visitors are supposed to do and receive a pass badge. I think she thought I was a worker there because she said to me 'you, just go on though'...Um, ok. So I passed through the gate without a pass or metal detect of my person and headed to the Court. Wondered if I would get stopped at all. I had been here before so knew the courtrooms were on the 2nd floor so I jumped in an elevator and headed up there.

No one on the 2nd floor. I wandered along and saw the door to the Courtroom open. What the hey. Wandered into the empty UN courtroom with a goofy grin to see the big blue UN flag on the wall. Wandered into the hall again,laughing in inside my head at how ridiculous this all was. Im wandering aimlessly in me shorts through the complex that is housing one of the biggest war crimes trials since Nuremberg. Opening doors till finally I found a young American legal eagle who told me that trials were postponed until the New Year. Bummer.

He escorted me to a stairwell and left me there. I wandered out the complex and shot back out through a door of the main security check without challenge. Man, will I ever get to actually watch a decent length of these trials.

Manfred 1 UN 0

Now to get my allowance and get back to the Mosh...

Epilogue
Manfred never received his allowance. His handler was delayed dealing with 2 other kiwi volunteers who had recently been attacked by people grazing cattle illegally on their land. Manfred did enjoy an amazing Margarita pizza and beers, before meeting a nice porter named Evance 'raining a lot up there at the moment' and seeing the Prime Minister race through Arusha in a heavily guarded cavalcade.

Hope to see the documentary based on the experience of being a volunteer called 'The Expendables' in the new Moshi movie theatre soon.

Fresh yourself up

For some reason, there's something special about us being together.
Mike Hanlon, Stephen King’s ‘IT’ Miniseries

Our good chum, and fellow kiwi volunteer, Intrepid Kat crashed with us Friday night. We were pleased she liked our Kiwi Bach decor. Saturday morning was pancakes (cheers Mke) before we planned to head out the door to meet with ‘the crew from A-Town’ at the hot spring of Maiji Moto. Would be our absolute last chance to see Nico (of the rooftop party last week) before he was back in NZ.

The wife and I had been to Maiji Moto before, way back in May. It’s a tranquil setting, clear water full of marine life surrounded by palms and foliage. Great for relaxing. At least until dark when crocs are reputed to come out.


Well, before getting there we had Moshi errands to do first (boring!); I grew more and more antsy as the day drew on. Wanted to swim! Finally, we were in a dala dala and on the 40 minute drive to the village of Boma Ngombe (House of the Cow, it’s a Masai area). After seeing a drama- a guy’s blatant day time attempt to rob the dala dala conductor of the takings- we met up with our friends. We piled into a small car and headed off on the dirty, rocky road to Maiji Moto.

We got to the spring, paid a guy from the local village the exorbitant fee for being there, met another car of chums from Arusha and got down to some serious ‘bro-ing down’ with each other.We are a random bunch for certain, with different strengths, foibles and experiences. But for some reason we all seem to click. Though we have only known each other a short time, we get along famously. Maybe it’s the situation. Or perhaps the bottle of wine I was quaffing...but I dig these crazy kids. Fellowship with others during the year has sustained my emotional strength in some frustrating/tough times.

Some of us swam in the azure water, some sunbathed, some teased others, some of us drunk irresponsibly and became attention seekers. Guess which I was. C'mon a'Fresh yourself up with Freshup' advert imitation with wine-that's gold! There was a ‘thump’ at one point: a medium sized bright green snake fell out of a tree just behind our group sitting on the ground and raced off. Not sure if it was a highly venomous green mamba or not but it was fun to chase it for a bit. In bare feet.

Franatee got swimming and enjoyed the beauty treatment of the fish in the water that eat dead skin. When I was not strutting for the ladies on the bank, I did some swimming and diving myself. Plenty of ‘Ram Jams’ ie flying elbow drops into the water. Though I was too chicken to jump in from high branches as some others did. I was swimming when I saw a huge Monitor Lizard coming down to the water. It’s not what we are drinking, it is the terrible ‘Crocodile Hunter’ imitations we are doing and our attempts to grab the tails of massive reptiles. All fun, but kinda glad in hindsight I couldn’t get to its tail in time as it ducked up a tree.

Time was going fast and soon it was dusk. Beautiful views of snow covered Kili in the distance as the cows ambled off home for the night.


We stayed longer (think I was last out of the pool?) and finally got back to the main road about 730pm. I was still feeling quite merry. The wife and I farewelled our Arusha friends and got on a dala dala heading for Moshi. I think we were the entertainment for the drive. The locals busted a gut at our Swahili attempts and at my mock dancing to the African beat tunes on the bus sound systems. Two people took a secretive stroke of Franatee’s hair. All fun. Got home and pretty much fell into a dead sleep.

Sunday, I did some hill runs with the wife (so unfit still) then we hung out with Bibi Stones and another Kiwi ex-volunteer at the Green Bamboo BBQ pit.

A short swim at the YMCA pool, then it was off home to start trying on random items of gear for Kili we have borrowed off people. I look quite fetching in my pink fleece. Kinda weird planning what gear to take for a minus zero top of a mountain...will my Nintendo work up there?

7 days to go...

'Sleep, Caradhras, be still, lie still, hold your wrath!'

"...(it) rose before them, a mighty peak, tipped with snow like silver, but with sheer naked sides, dull red as if stained by blood."
The Fellowship of the Ring

Wednesday night after work we caught up with our good mate Intrepid Kat and her family in Moshi. Kat and her dad had just come down from Kilimanjaro, having climbed the same route we intend to do. She looked a wee bit tired...Her tales of snow storms, lack of air, exhaustion, people turning back and glaciers were thrilling but also a little terrifying. Mount Kilimanjaro is still a mountain after all. It must be respected. A person died on the mountain during the same period Kat was up there. Pulmonary Odema. Tour companies are a bit quiet about the specifics of those details. I think I heard 10 people die a year? Don’t tell my mum. The wife and I will still give it a go, will support each other the whole way and ensure safety comes first. It’s the people that ignore the warning signs or try to be macho up there that die. That’s not me at all ai? Um...

Thursday December 9th, was a public holiday (Independence Day). Love public holidays. But before the relaxing, I had to do my hour training run for the marathon. The wife and I did a nice early morning jog over a rain swollen river to Karanga with a vista of cloud shrouded Kilimanjaro in the distance. In the breaks in the cloud cover, I saw more snow on Kili than I have ever seen. When it rains heavily in Moshi (as it has the last couple of days), it means it is snowing heavily on the mountain.

I’m so used to seeing Kili all the time and being ‘oh yeah’, somehow as we are 10 days from going up it, its brooding, white shrouded rock face seems a little less benign. And more like, Caradhras the Cruel, the mountain that defeated the Fellowship from the Lord of the Rings. Not that I'm into that geeky stuff.

Intrepid Kat’s family were keen to see Lake Chala, so together at 10am we went with Bibi Stones (the other Moshi volunteer) and another Kiwi mate, out there. Dark rain clouds coming in from Kenya.

No elephant around this time, they are way off in Kenya. Sigh. I really like the Chala area. Peaceful, yet full of life. Reminds me of the conservation area I worked on in South Africa in ‘08.

Intrepid Kat’s family and I set off to go down to the Lake. My wife was happy to hold the fort at the tented campsite bar. I was happy to have some people to come gingerly down the steep-ish caldera wall of the Crater Lake with me. We got down to the water and found less of a shore and more of a few random rock piles and logs. We could see small fish swimming around in the water. We had joked and talked a bit about the possibility of a croc attack. I had heard the deep waters of Chala was teeming with them. A tourist was taken by a croc swimming (on the Kenyan side of the Lake) in 2002.

(what lies beneath...)
But other people have said it is fine for swimming...hm. It all looked so inviting. So what the heck, I waded in. The bottom drops off pretty fast so I didn’t go out too far. Soon all of us were splashing around, albeit with the odd careful looks around. We stayed near the shore...I dived under water a few times straining to see any big shadows moving my way.

(how to simulate a crocodile attack with a stick)
The water was so warm and nice. Some local fisherman watched and chortled at us swimming especially when I kept asking them if there were crocodiles around or not. They didn’t laugh so much when I swam at them hippo styles, pretending I was going to tip over their flimsy canoe.

It was nice to hang out with a family, made me realise that I am missing my own family back home. We dried off from our swim and chilled out the rest of the afternoon near the bar.

Supposed to be stockpiling gear for Kilimanjaro this weekend. Plus, maybe meeting the A-Town crew at a hot spring. Plus, a small movie theatre is opening in Moshi. It’s a thankless, busy life ;-)

Postscript.
http://www.bloomberg.com/news/2010-12-13/martina-navratilova-leaves-hospital-after-aborted-mount-kilimanjaro-climb.html

There is so much snow up there at the moment...seems like its hard going at the mo...Im sure it will clear up soon gulp

It aint about how hard you hit...

..its about how hard you can get hit and keep moving forward.
Rocky Balboa

Mid week and I am a ball of fury. Monday I got a mild tut tutting for dressing too casually for a meeting...dude, its freaking boiling hot here I just wanted one day in my floral shirt and shorts combo...how did I know the Kenyan dignitary was turning up...sigh. Toilet was leaking. Dogs barking all night, so no sleep. No power, no wireless, no sodas (its so hot). Managers blatantly claiming sole credit for work I have done. Dodgy answers to straight questions. Of course the king hit was my computer getting fried by a surge after having pleaded with our procurement officer at least 20 times re: the need for a surge protector. I may have lost a ton of documents forever. I was spewing. I felt like strangling someone.

I won't even talk about the ridiculous voting competition at work to send a staff member on a trip anywhere in the world courtesy of a bank windfall due to donor money...please don't ask. Its ridiculous. Its bad enough seeing staff members 'campaigning' at work and only half-joking promising people at work $$ bribes for their votes for the trip.

So Tuesday night, I was pretty wound up. Ankle still impeding my jogging. Gritting my teeth all night in bed and thinking 'I cant do another 10 weeks of this madness'. Didn't sleep well. Wednesday I was going to have to do a long planned/postponed Wills/Inheritance Law presentation...its all complex, I was worried it was going to be a disaster.

But the surprising thing was....people were really engaged during the presentation. Asking questions, giving real life examples, reflecting on key points. They really got it. They were excited about having wills and wanting to tell others to have them. I was so happy. I think my 'How many cows do the male vs female children get under customary law' pie chart was the most meaningful diagram I have ever cobbled together in terms of impact on audience.

I've been asked to give follow up individual Will advice to staff. It's good because as they become more and more familiar with the topic, they can pass on their knowledge (as well as the Swahili Will Resources I crafted) to our HIV/AIDS clients.

Africa. Just when you are ready to scream in frustration and pack the whole bloody thing in, it surprises you with a little win...

Jump off that top rope

Loved the security guard I saw today grooving to an Ipod with an AK-47 hanging loose on his back. I coulda grabbed that gun I think before his Mariah Carey had flicked over to Michael Bolton...

Got an email from someone worried my heart (I had a slight heart murmur as a baby, corrected long, long ago) may not survive a climb of Mt Kilimanjaro (we start the climb in 14 days). To be honest, I was more worried about the lack of air at 18 000 feet than a heart attack. I could write a long blog entry on the actual risks of climbing Kili, the value of calculated risk-taking to happiness etc etc but meh.

Instead, go watch 'The Wrestler'. That movie sums up my philosophy about life being: Do what you love doing to the bitter end; even if you look faintly ridiculous to others doing it.

RAM JAM. Off to buy a wrestling costume for the climb.


Post Script
Thank Mungu it rained last night, dropping the temperature. I went out in the stubbies and stood in the downpour. Like I said, faintly ridiculous.

No Country For Old Men

It is so hot at the moment. Like this is insane, and I'm used to the sun and heat by now. But this is getting nuts. Where did the 'short rains' go? Short indeed. And I think we are not at the hottest months yet (ie Jan/Feb.) Power cuts are constant now(I'm writing this on generator power) the Tanzanian electricity supplier is rationing power due to either lake levels low or poor maintenance or maybe both...

We got some bummer news on Friday, that some friends of ours in Moshi are calling it quits, cutting plans short and heading home. I think it just got too much for them; the apathy, the work politics, the constant feeling of being an 'outsider' etc etc. I am reflecting on how blessed we have been in our time here with friends, treats sent over from home, trips, quality time with the locals and crazy fun that has balanced out the not so good bits. It coulda all gone differently...

You gotta follow your bliss, no point staying somewhere if you are miserable. Safe travels, peeps.

Saturday, I did the first run since spraining my ankle. Its holding up okay, though lost a bti of strength. Can't complain about running past hornbills and a vista of Kili, listening to James Brown.

After the run the wife and I headed to Arusha to farewell Nico, a fellow kiwi volunteer and all round stellar bro. He is finishing his assignment and heading home. His mix of energy and laid back kiwi-ness will be much missed. After a sweltering bus ride, we met up with other kiwi volunteers at the Blue Heron for a luncheon. Good to have the brief times that we all get to catch up. My volunteer handler just shook his head to see my moustache and Hawaiian shirt combo.

After lunch, I popped with the wife to Njiro Mall to see whatever movie was playing...it turned out to be 'Eat, Pray, Love' with Julia Roberts. Shudder. The odd thing, was leaving aside it was a horrific car wreck of a chick flick, both the wife and I felt reverse culture shock watching the rich white characters on screen doing indulgent rich white things. Hm.

It was dusk and leaving the cinema-dodging the juxtaposition of a Muslim woman in a burqha next to a scantily dressed tourist,we headed to a rooftop party to farewell not only Nico but a host of Australasians who are heading home for Xmas. Stunning views of Mt Meru and the city by sunset. Good to meet a whole of host of the Arusha volunteer scene. They can certainly handle their liquor. I jumped on the sound system at various points in the night playing Michael Jackson, Crowded House and other timelost ditties. I blame my sore ankle for the poor dancing I did that night. People did love listening 'Killing in the name of' by Rage Against the Machine at least twice. Had a good yak to a South African ex-pat and not so good yak to a local hotel manager 'we will mandate our employees test and disclose their HIV status to us. AIDS is expensive!' cough unlawful cough.

The party went on and on into the wee hours taxing even my considerable stamina. Around 3am, I nestled down on the roof to sleep. Then the wife appeared 'I've got us a room in the hotel, c'mon' Choice. So we settled into our double room but I thought, I'll just go to the toilet one time before bed. Big mistake. Somehow trying to flush the toilet in the dark I (with my Kryptonian strength) ripped the toilet water pipe out of the toilet. Water jetted out in a hose everywhere. I started screeching like a drowned rat as (clean) water went everywhere. As my furious and exhausted wife went looking for help, I vainly tried to stop the room filling with water. I began humming 'Nearer My God My to Thee' as the toilet floor started to disappear under the waves.

The wife reappeared with an ancient security guard and a half asleep manager. Somehow they stopped the flow of the water and put us in a different room. The staff looked less than impressed with me...I can't help my strength!

We slept till 10am, went back to the roof to see the hardcore Australasians up and about. Grabbed a bite for brekkie, hugged Nico goodbye and headed back to the Mosh.

Sunday, seemed even hotter than Saturday. I was sweating buckets as our packed bus raced past the brown expanse between Arusha and Moshi. Where do the cattle get any grass to eat? 'Dust devils' ie whirlwinds of dust were everywhere on the dry plain. Got into Mosh and headed to the Keys Hotel for a dip in the pool. The wife instructed some locals there in the art of backstroke-classic. Proud the wife has gained swimming confidence in Africa.

Rest of the day, we tried to avoid moving in the heat of our house and I said goodbye to my Moustache, to my long suffering wife's delight.

A weekend of farewells...

World AIDS Day 2010, Hedaru, Same District

December 1st is International World AIDS Day. The theme for the Day this year is ‘Universal Access (to treatment) and Human Rights’. It is the people who are most vulnerable to infection that need the greatest education in and protection of their rights.

As there was an obvious link to my work, I went with a couple of staff on the two hour drive out to the village of Hedaru, one of the areas we work in, to participate in celebrations of the Day. Yes, I know I said earlier I was going to climb Kili for World AIDS Day...I’ll do it later this month okay? Anyway my ankle is still swollen..

It was a nice, if speedy drive past the Pare' Mountains. Nice to get out of the office and my efforts to craft various arcane training materials. The landscape was looking so much greener since the last time I was on this road (on the way to Pangani mid year ). The flame trees (Tanzania’s version of our Pohutakawa) are in full pre Christmas bloom. We stopped briefly in the town of Same’ to eat what looked suspiciously like cow’s hoof soup.

We got to Hedaru...the open air venue was a little um deserted. ‘There is no hurry in Africa’ intoned a colleague. Really? Hadn’t noticed..

(tumbleweed blows past)

We met up with local health providers who would be making up the contingent for our NGO and slowly people started arriving. Dignitaries waddled themselves into shaded seats on a stage. Tons of children appeared from nowhere, singing, drumming and waving placards and it was all on.

The day was a mix of the inspirational, the sad and the plain surreal. It was great to hear people talking, singing, putting on dramas openly about real issues that affect them such as child labour, rape, AIDS testing, transmission of AIDS to children from parents etc Sobering how children have to grow up so fast here, kids are singing about ‘don’t accept candy and chipsi from that man he will give you AIDS’. Men preying on underage kids walking long distances to school is a huge issue here. I’ve worked with AIDS for 7 months now but the whole thing still creeps me out sometimes.

(kids doing a spirited dance)

I did note a dearth of people unaffiliated with HIV/AIDS groups (i.e the public at large) at the event. But the people and children who were here were enjoying the pageantry and the chance to hang out with each other. Our NGO contingent did us proud with singing. Quite moving. It got less moving as I tried to join in (briefly) for a bit of gyrating.

(me and my home based care supervising peeps)

It was late afternoon and save for the dignitaries in the shade, the sun was beating down on everyone else. No water anywhere for the people. Kids sheltering under kanga from the sun. Maybe it was the heat but things started get a bit weird for me. A woman put on a bawdy pageant about giving birth (in graphic detail) to a child with AIDS. It had people in hysterics. People in matching tee-shirts from sponsors were handing out condoms everywhere with gusto like lollies at a Santa Parade. I noted a co-worker chatting up some of the more attractive looking females there and pilfering a large swag of condoms for himself.

I also had an interesting convo with a workmate about what the ‘tribes’ were like in New Zealand. He asked if they were like ‘Red Indians’. Maybe it was the heat or the effects of the cow hoof soup or talking about Native Americans but my mind starting wandering oddly to thinking about the Ghost Dance movement of the Sioux of the 1890’s (yes, I am weird). Basically, the Sioux and others dispossessed of their lands, devastated by European epidemics and despairing of their future turned to a mass form of ritual dance, which they hoped would bring back the buffalo and usher in a new golden age. Some adherents thought the Ghost Dance would protect them from the bullets of the white man or even bring their dead friends back to life. I won’t go on but suffice it to say the movement had very mixed, if not tragic, results.

It just struck me watching people singing and dancing that people-especially in rural areas like Hedaru- lack a lot of the ‘weapons’ to fight AIDS, such as capacity, education, energy, enforcement etc. What they can do is dance and sing and hope their enthusiasm alters their environment for the better. Hm.

The day went on and people started drifting off as the ‘Guest of Honor’ from some Health Sub-Department read (droning) a speech off a piece of paper. Less entertainment value there for locals. We busted a move as well.

World AIDS Day. Does it change the world? Nah...but it gives some people who are affected by a disease a fun day out with friends. Some good messages. Plus the rate of infection is down in Hedaru, that’s always a good thing. Right?

The Great Tembo Hunt

Anyway, Saturday my ankle was still real sore from twisting it, but it was time to harden up: today was the day I had planned to track some tuskers. Lake Chala, 40 minutes away by car has a resident population of elephant, possibly refugees from Tsavo National Park in Kenya. Apparently the elephant come towards the Lake early in the mornings to raid local mashamba (farms) for mahindi (maize). They then make their way in a winding circuit back towards the Kenyan border. But Saturday they would have a date with me first...

Met my driver, Oscar by the house 8:30am. I raced out the door after some pancakes, I was so excited to go, I didn’t really say goodbye to the pancake chef. Awkward. I think the driver was just as excited as me to be going off to try and get close to elephant. We both giggled like school kids in the car.

Got out to the Lake and grabbed a local guide with a friendly face by the name of Raymond. And off we went, into the wild.

(got a lot of ground to cover)
We certainly saw plenty of signs of elephant; lots of dung, tracks and broken, tusked and chewed trees. Saw a couple of trees that had been fully ripped out of the ground by elephant.

We wandered up and down hills, through thorns, across rivers and dry river beds and on and on. But nothing but insect and bird noise...no tembo yet. We had the occasional quiet moment when we felt something was out there, in the silence...but then the moment would pass and off we would go.

(An elephant trail)
Occasionally Raymond would shoot up a tree to scan the surrounds.

(guide up tree)
Oscar and Raymond assured me that we would find them. We ran into a herdsmen and his goats/cows...he told us we were heading the right way. We wandered all the way up to the rough line cut out of the scrub that marked the border with Kenya...I shot across it and had a photo taken.

(Hello from Kenya)
A nice vacation in Kenya.

We had been walking now for 3 hours. I was out of water and the afternoon African sun was beating down. My mouth felt dry and I wished I had put sunscreen on. I was glad of the guides, I was feeling a bit disorientated and spaced out/faint. My ankle was killing me and my pace had settled into a trudge. I wasn’t trying to avoid thorn cuts anymore, too tired, was just blundering into things. I reflected on the romantic ideal of animal tracking versus the reality. An extra hour later and I was ready to admit defeat. We started following some elephant footprints along a trail but I was starting not to care...

Then, Oscar and Raymond froze and motioned me to be quiet and stop. Just up ahead some hundred metres under a tree was a huddled mass of brown shapes. Yes!


A herd of elephant seeking some shade from the killer sun. We edged a bit closer...The wind was blowing towards us which was good, we could hear the breathing and chewing noises of some big animals. Raymond got a little worried as we saw a little one with the herd. Elephant are pretty protective of their young...we moved gingerly around trying to get some photos while not attracting the attention of the herd. They are pretty big things aye? It’s somewhat sobering when you actually see them up close and realise they would have no difficulty at all doing a lot of damage to an elephant obsessed guy from Petone.

I saw a large head and tusks at the right side of the tree looking this way and that. Its demeanour suggested it was the herd leader.

I edged a bit closer, to see how far I could push my luck. Then the elephant’s trunk came up in the sniffing gesture; it knew something was not right in its environment...so I backed off a bit.

(this is how tourists get into trouble..)
I stood there for a bit just watching the heaving, ear flapping brown-from dust bathing-mass by the tree. The gods of the forest.

(having a moment with the elephant)
Then, I guess Oscar was so excited, he had to call a mate on his cell phone to tell him that we were near elephant. Um...at the sound of his excited voice, the big leader here DEFINITELY knew something was up, it looked directly at us and starting moving away from the tree. As the herd started to move, the three of us quickly ducked low and ran away from the herd. Disgruntled, the herd turned the other way and moved off.

I was elated but exhausted as we headed back to the tented campsite and the car. I thanked Raymond profusely for persevering and getting this crazy mzungu his tembo fix. Oscar drove me home, so I could collapse severely dehydrated on the couch and demolish every soda and trace of water we had in the house.

Elephant. I love ‘em.

Arrgh

So last night I twisted my ankle pretty badly doing 'Kenyan Hills' style training ie running up and down a hill...hurt like hell, I fell to the ground screeching to the bemusement of passerbys. Its a bit swollen and discoloured now. I nursed it last night at the Sikh Club with red wine and painkiller cocktails. Groovy.

Trying to go easy on it...sob, Im supposed to be hiking in the bush tomorrow...Im still gonna go 2morrow and hobble after elephant, just don't tell my volunteer handler. Just heard a mother elephant and a baby were shot out that way...I will wear something brightly coloured so no one mistakes me for a pachyderm.

Tembo Fever

...no man has ever seen the elephants dance.
'Toomai of the Elephants', Rudyard Kipling

I dunno whether its because I'm tired or Im sad that the end of the assignment is getting closer or what. But I'm getting elephant cravings again. Some of the best times I have had here have been the contrasting silent, tense tread of the guide and the clumsy crashing of the eager mzungu stalking towards some rumbling, flapping shapes in the bush ahead...testing the wind to make sure the near-sighted beasts cannot detect you...only a stick for protection...its primal,its reckless and its magic. An encounter with a creature that is totally disinterested in you, except for when you annoy it. Wandering in places where elephant, not humans hold sway....I could go on. Yes, I am odd.

The Lake Chala area (was there 2 weeks ago) intrigued me with its mix of scrub and thorns and wild and creatures comparatively so close to Moshi. So this weekend, I've quietly organised a driver, will get a local guide and want to do some hard slog tracking elephant in the bush. So colonial of me. You only live once though right? Im going without wifey (with her blessing) so I can exorcise my masochistic cravings for thorn cuts and angry hulking creatures alone.

Ah, maybe I wont even see anything. But I'll give it a crack, be good to do some hiking and thinking.

Gratuitous MO and Mountain shots

For no reason. Who needs a reason when you have a beautiful MO and an almost as beautiful mountain nearby. The soccer team enjoyed the MO support.

Run Fatboy Run

Last night, did the first 'official'run of the wife's 3 and 1/2 month marathon training program she has whipped up for me. The run was a sedate 25 minute uphill jog over a carpet of purple flowers being shed by the local jacarandas trees, past a vista of Kili partially shrouded in cloud.

Franatee assures me her program will work and will render me capable of inflicting 4-5 hours of running in African heat on myself. We will see. Oh well not like there's anything good on TV these days...

Pip pip, cheerio

I'm gonna make a change, for once in my life

So I needed some time out of Moshi. Some solo time. Jumped on a bus Friday late arvo (complete with the usual anti-fungus cream sellers and people having screaming and refusing to pay the full fare). Got into Arusha, hooked up with Nico, Bwana D and a nice girl they had met a few days ago.

We had good convos about things deep and silly. Us vollies seem a little tired (most of us started roughly at the same time). We have all hit our 'walls' at points along the way of this marathon existence in Africa, so its good to re-energise from simple pleasures like conversation, a nice meal and smoking (in my case coughing and spluttering) on a shisha/hookah in a Middle Eastern themed restaurant.

It is great that kiwis here have eachother's backs. We all have different roads to walk, different obstacles to try our souls. Some of the dark experiences that other vollies have to deal with...I don't I could handle. We all do what we can with our allotted tasks and God willing, you get through.

Anyway..
We talked up Colobus (the karaoke place we used to go from language school) to our new female friend so when we taxied out there, we were horrified to see it had reaaaaly gone down hill. Almost empty save for some seedy older guys and some hookers. I've had it with hookers. Truly awful karaoke going on...A guy was shrieking out 'What a wonderful World' by Louis Armstrong and it sounded like a cat was having its bones broken. How disappointing. My 'One Love' cover with Bwana D was little better but we belted out 'Man in the Mirror' well for a bit of laughter and applause. But it was a brief light in an oppressive dark of poor singing/poor song choice. We beat a retreat and had an early night. I suppose its good to actually to have a sedate night (for once) in Arusha.

Saturday morning I went for a jog with Bwana D. He wants to do the Kili Marathon with the wife and I. I have a lot of work to do. I'll blame the shisha smoking but I was rubbish. Panting, puffing sweating along the side of a busy road and across the 'river of dreams' AKA a trash filled local creek populated by locals washing their clothes and laughing at the jogging wazungu. But yeah, I have a lot of work to do...

We spent the rest of Saturday relaxing by a pool at the Arusha Coffee Lodge a beautiful resort set in a coffee plantation. It's a hard life. Got splashed by a mixed ethnicity group of kids doing bombs and playing 'baptism' games in the pool (a local Christian orphanage group perhaps?) I contemplated showing them what a bomb in the pool really was, but with my current MO I didn't want the caregivers to have me arrested as a deviant.

Took a late arvo bus home, nice and relaxed. Twas a great break from the Mosh. The wife was happy to see me a bit less edgy and a bit more chilled. Sunday, we met some friends and went to a local BBQ pit 20 minutes down the road. The wife had a vegie pizza. I devoured my own body weight in goat, chicken and other hapless creatures. Great times. I have a cool wife that lets me both go to Arusha on my own and be a carnivore when the cravings for prey get too much. Yay for my wife!

I wore the pink shirt to the BBQ that I bought for the 'pink' party in Arusha some time back. Hell, if you can't wear a pink shirt in Africa, where can you? I certainly can't wear it in Petone. No locals minded. But my combo of MO and pink shirt got some weird looks and laughter from a land rover full of wazungu that passed me walking home. Don't mind him, he's the local kiwi eccentric..Onto week 37 of 52.


(Would you let this man bomb your children in a pool?)

(as narrated by Christian Bale)

I just wanted a quiet weekend...but it's Friday arvo and I can see the signal coming from Arusha. I wonder what the trouble is this time. Wearily, I put the costume on under my Hawaiian shirt. I place the belt, grapple gun, cowl, throwing stars, gauntlets and smoke bombs in my backpack.

I have misplaced the 'mobile so I will have to bus to Arusha. The Tanzanian passengers in the bus won't realise what they are riding with beyond a reflex shiver and a flinch at the intensity burning out of the eyes of the silent muzungu sitting in the back holding a chicken for a fellow passenger.

Beware the cowardly and superstitious of Arusha, I'm hunting tonight.

Lake Chala-The Lost World

So Tuesday our human resources officer said we could pick anywhere to go for our end of year staff retreat. I said Somalia. ‘No’ he said soberly. ‘You would come back very quiet, in a box’. He did say I could pick anywhere, hmf.

Anyway, the next day was a public holiday time and I was champing at the bit to go off to see the crocodile infested Lake Chala on the Kenyan/Tanzanian border. I think my wife was keen for a relaxing sit by a lake...little did she know my evil schemes to have us tracking elephant and teasing crocodiles bwa haa haa

A minivan turned up at our house at 10am and wifey and I rolled in. We were an interesting mix. A Tanzanian driver, the trip organiser (a Kiwi ex volunteer) and her young son, Bibi Stones one of our fellow kiwi volunteers and her daughter (who is outdoors type, travelled and a lot of fun) and two Canadian physiotherapists in the back. Neither of them would massage my sore left quad muscle.

The drive to Lake Chala took about 40 minutes, over some really muddy/puddle dirt roads. Rainy season is here, most definitely. A lot of vegetation and crops taking advantage of the water. As we drove along, we could easily see into the vast plains of Kenya and our cellphones started welcoming us by text to the Kenyan network. I was geekily happy we could see the Kenyan Tsavo National Park in the distance. ‘Tsavo’ means ‘place of slaughter’ in Kikamba and contains the place where two notorious man-eaters killed many rail workers in 1898.

We got our first view of the Lake, quite picturesque sitting in a crater of green.

We stopped for a drink nearby at a tented lodge site-in-progress owned by a Zimbabwean friend of the trip organiser. She and her Kenyan husband are planning to develop the site into a conservation area. There are already lots of birds and small wildlife by the lake. Plus, elephant that have come across from Tsavo National Park and taken up residence. There is a lot of violent poaching in Tsavo National Park; I don’t blame the tembo for seeking a new place to live.

We headed off to track some elephant. We had nice views of grassland rolling away into Kenya as we walked alongside the top of the crater. We must have gotten pretty close to crossing inadvertently into Kenya at some points.

Our guide set a cracking pace, soon our group was spread out heading down and over a chocolate brown stream then up another rise and into ever increasing thorn bushes. I’ve seen my share of anti-browser plant protection systems. But this thorny scrub-dunno if it was a species of Acacia or not-was some of the worst I have ever encountered. Branches covered in barbs were catching everyone’s clothing and skin.

(Franatee is getting seriously sick of the thorns)

Progress slowed. We were all drenched in sweat, it was muggy, dirty, thorny work. Then we heard the bass rumble of a nearby elephant. I’ll never get tired of that noise. We all went quiet. Well most of us did. Thankfully the wind was blowing towards us. We could soon see a herd of dusty red-brown elephant about 500 metres away slowly moving away from us, ears flapping.

(come back, Jumbo)
Our progress was too slow and thorn impeded to make a real chase of the herd, so we let them go and headed back for a bite to eat. But, despite having run out of water, I wanted to keep exploring...
I really wanted to get down the crater to the Lake so leaving my wife (no doubt popping some anti-anxiety pills) I raced off alone to the crater again. I found what looked to be a path down and started gingerly moving downwards. The ‘path’ soon became a scramble down ever steeper, ever narrower causeways with a sheer drop to the left of me and increasing vegetation on the right. It was like something out of Jurassic Park.

(um..where's the path gone?)
I was swarmed by insects, cicadas deafened me, lizards peered at me curiously or got out of my way. I got half way down, close enough to get nice views of the lake and some fisher folk on it when I called it quits. Just didn’t want to risk slipping off a wrong way and wrecking the trip. I climbed back up and got back to the others in disgrace. A croc will have to wait a bit longer for a Manatee sized treat.

I brooded over a (well made) cheeseburger and wished I had Mo courage. But I soon got over it and chilled out enjoying the scenery. We didn’t see any of the troupes of large baboons that apparently turn up and overturn all the paving stones at the camp looking for things to eat.

We headed for home about 4pm. I wished the camp operator well as we departed. The area has such potential...it’s a bit off the main tourist routes, but so close to Moshi in terms of the views and creatures people can see. Be great if it becomes a conservation area.

I’m going to miss all this-thorn scratches, dehydration and all-when I go home to New Zealand. Back to work tomorrow.

but I REALLY want to swim!

There's a public holiday (Idd Al-Udha) tomorrow. Rocking. I've managed to grovel my way into a group of visitors heading to Lake Chala for a day trip. Lake Chala is a crater lake sitting on the border of Tanzania/Kenya. I'd heard it is a picturesque area and you can sometimes see tembo (elephant) there. I'd contemplated a solo mission there at one stage but got dispirited when co-workers said I needed to firstly dala dala to a village, then ride on the back of a motor bike with a local off road for a bit...didn't seem the safest to do it alone.

While I'm stoked I'm going to get to see the lake-as I love water-I really want to swim in a lake as well. It sucked I could not swim in the inviting waters of Lake Victoria on my recent trip to Mwanza due to the parasites in that water. Lake Chala has other issues...big monstrous 20 foot long crocodillian resident issues, as a poor tourist found out in 2002:

http://www.telegraph.co.uk/news/worldnews/africaandindianocean/kenya/1387432/Crocodile-girl-told-that-lake-was-safe-to-swim-in.html

But surely if I don't swim at night, I'll be okay? Huh? Someone has to stand up for primates who want to swim unmolested in tropical fresh water lakes. Will Lake Chala be yet another inviting lake taunting me with hidden death in its murky depths? Why can I never swim here without worrying about random parasites or gigantic prehistoric reptiles? What are the odds really of a monstrous pair of Nile Crocodile jaws with a bite force of 4000psi clamping on my tender rump?

Sigh, I can see my wife glowering angrily at me (he is NOT swimming there-mke) so I'll leave it. For now.

Crikey, just wanna swim in a billabong, mate, without something having a go at me...



Anyway pics to come.

35 days or so to K-Day

Due to climb Kili in just over a month. We have so much cold weather gear to buy/hire/steal. Didn't really bring clothing for -26 degrees celecius temperatures at the Summit. Don't really have decent climbing boots. At the current level of gear I have, this is my mountaineering attire:

Going Rogue

The ‘short’ rains are certainly here. It bucketed down this morning meaning a trudge through the matope (mud) to work. Lots of the winged insects about that only seem to appear after heavy rain. Had a nice dinner last night with Bibi Stones (yes, pseudonym), the other kiwi volunteer living in Moshi and her visiting 2 adult children. They hadjuust got back from some safari time. One of them brought me more Nintendo games from New Zealand, yay! A perfect night...except..

I think her offspring think I’m a secret agent. Let me explain.

First of all there is my dodgy looking Hawaiian shirt and Movember moustache. I look like someone who should not be trusted.

I spoke of our volunteer co-ordinator in Arusha as our ‘handler’. Bibi Stones had picked up an envelope for Franatee and I on her way through Arusha with our latest instalment of our allowance. ‘Ah, that will be money, a Zambian passport and new orders’ I joked to the visitors. They looked at each other.

The three volunteers talked to Bibi Stones’ offspring about the ethos of our volunteer organisation and how it wanted us kiwis ‘embedded’ in the community. ‘Like sleeper agents’ I posited. ‘One day my Arusha handler will give me the hypnotic trigger word and like the Manchurian Candidate I will come to life and start ‘exchanging skills’ with a vengeance.’ The wageni (visitors) looked increasingly uncomfortable. Who was this guy in the Hawaiian shirt?

Finally, at the end of a nice meal we discussed another volunteer who was going back to New Zealand for Christmas. We noted that it could be hard to come back after a relaxing time back home. ‘Yeah’ I said ‘I’d be tempted to skip the flight back to Tanzania’ (pause) ‘I’d go rogue’

Agent Manatee going dark now.

Mwanza Part Three-Finale

Wherein our hero finds hoop dreams and hooker nightmares and two boxers meet again for the first time

Monday, our last full day in Mwanza and while Sparkles had to go to work, Dragline, Franatee and I got on some sporty gears and went to play basketball at a local court. We had a brief drama on the way when a cyclist did not see us turning off the road towards the court and whacked into us. He was shaken but unhurt, but a crowd of locals were soon swarming us. I got out of the car just in case in turned ugly. As it turned out the crowd were cool, totally on our side. So after double checking the cyclist was okay, we were off and soon at the court.

Man, I was soon sweating buckets and panting. I was good at racing around the court and stealing the ball off the Tanzanian guy who came to play with the 3 of us but I couldn’t shoot to save my life. Great fun though. Loved how we had a few locals bemusedly watching us racing around. My wife is amazing on defence.

(this shot is a recreation for educational purposes only)

As I thought it was going to be a big night, I relaxed for the rest of the day. Okay, except for the AIDs test. Let me explain. I lost a bit of blood during my attempted mugging in September, so for my own peace of mind I asked Sparkles if she could give me an AIDs test when she got home from work. The test was a relatively easy matter of taking blood and waiting for a line to form in the right place on a tab of chemicals. It was a little tense, especially with mke looking on but I got a clear result and there were hugs and high fives all round. Phew. I reflected that it must be hard for Sparkles when she has to give an HIV positive result to a person.

We played some couples darts, listened to Elvis’ ‘Viva Las Vegas’ then Dragline and I got our fancy duds on and headed out to the Mwanza Casino to begin what would be our final man night together for a long time. The walk from the parked car into the Casino was a bit tense as it is a street kid heavy area. I double checked the car was locked. A gang of kids glowered at the two white dandies entering the Casino.

I love visiting Casinos but I usually don’t gamble that much. Mwanza Casino was functional and sparsely populated as it was a Monday night, after all. The staff were friendly. It was nice to sit with a buddy at the Roulette table, quaffing the complimentary drinks and acting like high rollers. High rollers we were not, unlike the Indian family that were there putting down crazy amounts of chips. I did like the feeling of winnings being pushed towards me across the Roulette table. Gambling in Tanzanian shillings is certainly a lot more economical than back home.

I had a great time at the Casino. Maybe because as said it was sparsely populated and I could not see any of the sad types that sit for prolonged periods in some of the gambling establishments back home. I can now gamble effectively on Roulette.
The free drinks were staring to run out (I think they realised we were not rolling as high as we could) so we headed off to a local bar/nightclub to keep hanging out.

I was warned that the place we were heading could be heavy with er 'women of the night'. Good to know my AIDS status before heading there then I guess. I didn’t write that. We arrived, grabbed some drinks and took in the scene. An empty strobe lit dance floor. Lots of locals at the bar. The music was terrible. Could we not get some Michael Jackson on? My spider sense powers could detect some hookers circling around the local men in the bar. One of them made an impression. Not like that. She seemed like she had a young, pensive face, sitting in the corner with her water bottle. She made me feel a bit sad. She should have been out with the girls having a good night in an alternate reality not getting pawed by obnoxiously drunk men.

I wondered if I should just give her some money so she could go home for the night. Talking to Dragline, we thought that could be weird so I decided to just buy her a beer at some point. But I didn’t really want to talk to her...I'm a bit shy? Anyway..

(Would YOU accept a drink from this man?)

A heavily drunk Tanzanian guy crashed our table and despite being rebuffed when he asked for money and despite being asked to leave us in peace he kept annoying us. Security turned up (whom we thanked profusely ) and the guy was shuffled out. One of the bouncers was friendly; this ebony mountain of a guy called Tyson who came to hang at our table. I noted the humour value of a ‘Tyson’ hanging out with ‘Buster’ Douglas AKA me AKA the underdog boxer that knocked Mike Tyson down in an upset victory in 1990.

(Tyson kinda looked like this)
Tyson wanted to know why I looked moochy and Dragline told him it was because they would not play Michael Jackson for me to dance to. Tyson got this weird determined look on his face and strode off to remonstrate with the DJ. Tyson and a fellow bouncer kept popping off to heatedly talk to the DJ at regular intervals as the night went on. I thanked Tyson a lot and kept him plied with drinks. It's good to have a bouncer friend. I went for a quick solo dance on the D-Floor to warm it up. I soon raced back to my seat.

Then ‘soccer guy’ came along. A drunk and happy local asked where I was from and on finding I was a Kiwi said:

‘We beated you. Your team. In a match before the World Cup. Your team came here and we beated you’
(He is correct. The Tanzanian All Stars beat the All Whites 2-1 in a friendly match in Dar Es Salaam in June 2010)
‘Ha ha yeah you got us, we were happy to be in the World Cup’
‘But we beated you. In a match before the World Cup.’
‘Ha...yeah...but we were IN the World Cup. Tanzania was not’
‘But we beated you. In a match before the World Cup.’

And on and on it went for 20 minutes. I started ignoring the guy but he got worried I was furious and came over to hug me and apologise and tell me again about how he ‘beated’ us. Loveable chap.

There was still no sign of Michael Jackson appearing in sound form and I was getting antsy. Tyson kept asking me to be patient and that Michael would be there. I could see the sad looking hooker in the corner of my eye and thought ‘what the hell’ and bought her a beer. I sheepishly said ‘this is for you’ or something and raced off back to my table. She looked happy with the beer. Maybe too happy. Soon I had every hooker in the place hovering and watching me like seagulls at the dump.

I decided to retreat and went for a solo dance to some Justin Timberlake and R and B mixes. Surprisingly, I felt no shame as I gyrated alone in strobing lights. I’m sure alcohol had nothing to do with it. I could see Tyson giving me the thumbs up. I found out later he was frantic to dance with me but Dragline was unmoved and made them stay put. Finally after much dancing it happened. The DJ put on ‘You Rock My World’ by Michael Jackson. I was soon moon walking all over the D-Floor. Tyson was beaming. By now more people were coming to the D-Floor and dancing around the crazy mzungu. One hooker started dancing and got a little...grabby so I shrieked and ran back to the table. I saw another drunk guy had smashed one of Dragline’s drinks and it was quite late so we decided to call it a night. Tyson was inconsolable as we left.

And just for the record, Mke did not mind me buying a hooker a beer. What she got annoyed about was how I was depressed the next day or so thinking about how I get to fly back to comfort and Nintendo games while the hooker will still be there night after night risking AIDS and what not. I got sisters, it made me sad, what can I say? Anyway...

Tuesday morning, my head pounding, Dragline drove us to the airport as we listened (and air guitared in the car) to ‘Bohemian Rhapsody’. We had a short, sad goodbye hug then we were off back to the Mosh. I dunno when we will see Dragline and Sparkles next but I’m hopeful we will see them again. Or at least, Tyson.

(flyin' home past the Lake)

Mwanza Part Two

Wherein our hero is crushed by the weights of injustice

I slept really well Friday night, twas exhausted from travelling and Konyagi bottle smashing dramas. It was really hot the next day. I mean Moshi is really hot, but the sun in Mwanza for some reason really beats down. We went to the Hotel Tilapia which has a nice swimming pool and views of the Lake. The locals who worked there watched on curiously as I performed underwater handstands, free diving demonstrations and the odd bomb onto Dragline.


(view from the Hotel)
The rest of the day we relaxed at home, played a Basketball game on the computer with Dragline and trash talked about the weights I was going to lift at the local gym the next day. Watched ‘Road to Perdition’ that night after a tasty dinner of Tilapia (a tasty local fish) burritos. Love fish. Love Sparkles' cooking. We also played couples cards that night. My couples-cards partner got incensed with my unorthodox style of play. What can I say? The best card player does not fear the second best, but the worst player. Because that person is unpredictable little me. Mke 'discussed' our strategy with me long into the night.

Sunday morning, Franatee, Dragline and I got up early to go to the local gym. The gym sits in a building occupied by the ruling party of Tanzania, so lots of nice posters of dignitaries on the walls to staunch out. Walked in past a local lifting weights in a karate outfit (?!) I got down to some bench pressing. At least I tried for 5 seconds. I shrieked out for help as the heavy bar I was pushing up to impress my gym mates starting crushing my rib cage.

Despite jogging fairly regularly, my upper body muscles have atrophied from months of no strength training. Dragline was pretty good about it, but it's shocking how much strength you can lose when you don’t gym. I stuck to the kiddy weights and pouted on the car ride home. Franatee got up a good sweat on the treadmill. At least one of us didn’t suck big time.

After that humiliation, the four of us went out to the Malaika Resort to chill by the lakeside. We were soon playing cards, drinking and generally chillin’. The water was so picturesque and inviting, it took all my willpower not to join the locals and dive on into it. I did wander half way onto a rickety jetty over the lake waters, but I really did not want to risk falling into a bacteria soup so soon scampered back.

('Hey, Muslim robed woman that jetty is RICKETY')

After a prolonged battle, we arrived at a couples cards stalemate and as heated accusations flew across the table (okay, so I messed up a move. Or two.), we decided it was time to move off. To help a healing atmosphere in the car I forgo to do my usual trick of winding down the window and sticking my arm out (Hawkes Bay Stylez) which enrages Dragline no end (due to the detriment of the open window on the air conditioning and the increased chances of lunging street kid attacks...which Dragline's gym strengthened arms would then have to save my puny hide from.)

Back at home, Dragline and I played more computer basketball, before having tasty spring rolls and watching some ‘The Office’ episodes. I had nightmares about gyms that night.

To be concluded...and we'll get to meet Tyson. He is not this lizard.

Mwanza Part the First

Wherein Manfred spills some alcohol, but is topped up with the joys of friendship
In August, some of our bestest buddies in Moshi, Dragline and his wife Sparkles moved to Mwanza, the southern port city of Lake Victoria (No, these are not fake names, why do you ask?) They did this for a change of scene but also to ‘rough it’ a little bit more. We’ve missed them (and their dog!) quite a bit. So we were happy to be able to find a long weekend that suited all of us for a flying visit to Mwanza.

Despite Mwanza being the second largest city in Tanzania, there are far less wazungu there. Mwanza feels a lot more ‘African’-if that makes sense- than Moshi. The dominant tribe there is the Sukoma (as opposed to the Chagga and Maasai in the Moshi/Arusha region).

On a practical level the above means a lot more staring and comments in Swahili from locals and a few more safety issues. You can’t just wander around Mwanza the way you might wander around Moshi. There is a lot of poverty in Mwanza. And gangs of street kids clustered in certain places. They will tap on your car windows to ask for money or perhaps do worse if you are wandering around on foot. If anyone has seen the depressing 2004 documentary “Darwin’s Nightmare”, well, some of that seemed accurate to us, if a little exaggerated. The town is a bit more gangsta. Anyway.

Another reason for wanting to go to Mwanza was the mystique of seeing the second largest fresh water lake in the world- and source of the White Nile- the ‘Eye of the Rhino’ AKA Lake Victoria. The Lake supports the biggest inland fishery in Africa (yes, I did look at Wikipedia). It’s teeming with fish, including the voracious introduced (but tasty) pest species, the Nile Perch.

The Lake Victoria Basin is one of the most densely populated rural areas in the world. Ergo, the Lake is quite heavily polluted. Not just with sewage and factory by-products, but also with bacteria and nasty parasites. So no swimming for my sensitive intestines in that water.

Friday morning, we took a shuttle to Kilimanjaro airport. I was carrying liquor in my backpack as I know Dragline and I like our sun downers. But when Kilimanjaro Airport security asked if I was carrying any liquids, I thought I’d play it cool and say ‘no’. I said to the wife as our bags went through the X Ray machine ‘the perfect crime’. Or so I thought, until a bottle of sugar cane derived alcohol smashed in my bag and I started spraying liquor all over the floor (‘Ummm, dude…DUDE!’ said mke) to the horror of my wife and the airport staff. As I picked broken glass out of a sodden bag that smelt like a heavily drunk wet cat, and as staff members gave me cold furious stares and going for mops, I reflected on what I was going to be reincarnated as in my next life for all my hijinks in this one. At least I was in a fairly relaxed African airport and not LAX for example.


One empty, alcohol reeking carry bag and fuming wife later and our plane was flying north towards Mwanza, a journey of an hour or so. As we landed we taxied past a line of MIG 21 fighter jets at the end of the runway...wonder if they still fly? No sign of the big Russian cargo planes that export the Nile Perch out to Europe (and bring weapons in, if you believe ‘Darwin’s Nightmare’). Perhaps they land their dodgy cargo at night. Mwanza airport is certainly...quaint. Basically a corridor, a baggage claim area and a toilet. Wandered through in 5 seconds and met Dragline outside. Cue much emotion and male re-bonding. We headed into town.

Um, first impressions as we drove. Well, while Mwanza’s population dwarfs little Moshi, it definitely seemed less developed. A lot less evidence of urban planning shall we say? Very green compared to the browns of Moshi/Arusha. And rocky with lots of outcroppings and boulders (hence its nickname ‘the Rock City’). Plus there is the Lake. It’s a monster stretching out to the horizon and beyond. It is staggering to think it is all fresh water. I don’t think I could run around it (Mke says 'Really, you were pretty confident that you could when you were bragging to Dragline and Sparkles').

We grabbed a bite to eat at a local place then took in the lakeside views assisted by Konyagi & Fanta.

Our friends have been doing well and are nicely settled in. Weird to see so much water without the smell of sea air. We went and picked up Sparkles and drove home past areas where barricades and rioting had been due to election related violence. Mwanza had had a rough time of it but it was all settled down when we were there.

Dragline and Sparkle’s house had some altitude and thus a nice view of the surrounds. The view actually looked like some weird tropical alternate reality view from the Botanical Gardens looking towards Wellington harbour back home.

Franatee was ecstatic to hang out with the dog we used to dog-sit again. The dog enjoyed her company but shunned me as a person who does not declare liquids at the airport. We watched the sun go down over the lake then I took in some 'Savannah Dry' cider (‘girls drink’ Dragline sneered at me...I grew up on Hawkes Bay scrumpy, yo) at a bar that seemed to have all of Mwanza’s wazungu population in one place, then after some Indian food we rolled home for a whole lotta sleep. Holiday officially underway!


To be continued...