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)
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