The Road Goes Ever On

(The 2010 marathon route, the 2011 route is essentially the same)

Wow. The marathon business was a quite bit harder than I expected it to be...its Tuesday and I am still in pain/limping/having trouble sitting and standing up. My legs have tightened up something awful.

As race day got closer, I was starting to get a bit more subdued (read-freaked out)about the whole thing. The moments of terror were offset though by the fun moments like registering and getting my race number, buying up sodas and bananas for post race recovery and most importantly hanging out with friends and fellow full/half/5 km fun run runners.

Saturday night, a whole group of us went out for the pre-race eats, an injection of carbohydrates at a local multi-food-discipline eatery. In hindsight, I wonder if my choice of fish burger and chips was the best elite athlete fare. At least it was a better choice than Daudi's slightly-past-its-used-by-date prawn sushi. Good choice to send that back to the chef methinks, Daudi man.

(the last supper...)

Retired to bed at 10pm and was kept awake most of the night by the yapping toy dogs that live at our place. I fitfully slept, dreaming of inflicting animal cruelty. We were woken at 530am by blaring bass music from the nearby Stadium. Maybe acting as an alarm clock for the locals?

The wife and I dressed quickly and ate some banana. Daudi turned up, we made sure we all had on some red/black colours on ie Canterbury colours to support Earthquake ravaged Christchurch. Just enough time for a quick Superman symbol vivid tattoo on my arm for luck, then we headed out the door for the stadium ie a 10 minute walk from our place.

(elite athletes at 530am Sunday morning)
We got to the start line at 627am...cutting it a little fine. Hmmm were not as many people running the full marathon as I thought there would be. Hoped I'd kinda blend in more. Had time to do some mock hamstring stretching and other stadium crowd pleasing moves, a quick cross of myself and BANG and my trainer (ie my wife who has run 3 marathons before) and I were off.

The first stretch was a fast paced (for me) grind down the main road leading to Dar Es Salaam out of Moshi. I felt okay. Had to keep an eye out for traffic trundling along or pulling over to the side to pick up/let go passengers. No road closures in Tanzania nor designated running lanes, I'm afraid. Not as many race marshals or water stops as I would have liked and not a portaloo anywhere. Oh well, elite athletes must do as elite athletes do. A sprightly old Tanzanian was getting a lot of acclaim from bystanders 'Babu! Babu!' they shouted enthusiastically.

As we jogged towards the turn around point, we saw the Kenyan/Tanzanian race leaders shooting past us in the opposite direction. Cuss me. They were ridiculously fast, inhuman. Sprinting hard, and they would maintain that pace for the remainder of the 42km race. (The winner this year, a Kenyan, did the full marathon in 2 hours, 17 minutes and 8 seconds. That's phenomenal. My final time would be far less stellar.)

We turned around at the 8km mark, had some water and headed back into the suburbs of Moshi...funny I wasn't seeing many other runners in sight. Awkward. Nor a lot of route signage in town. Lots of curious or laughing locals, dog carts and the odd vehicle to avoid. People busting their gut laughing as we ran past a big fruit/vege market. Liked the guy who yelled out 'Superman!' on seeing my hastily applied arm tattoo as I ran past.

Between the 15-18km mark my pace was noticeably slowing, and I was having the odd walking break. I stopped for a cheeky toilet break behind a convenient termite mound.

After more water as we got over the 21 km mark (ie halfway) I was really, really feeling it. My quad muscles were screaming. Every step felt increasingly like someone was stabbing my thighs. I began to feel nauseous, like I didn't want any water or any of the energy gels my wife was carrying. I had never felt that bad during a run before. Think I just was feeling the distance. Despite my trainer/wife's best efforts to encourage me, I started increasingly walking. We were going steadily uphill now, increasing the gradient as we headed towards the Mountain.

Around the 28 kilometre mark I was increasingly despairing, hating it, whinging and sniffling with the pain. My wife remained patient. I got so angry cos I wanted to run but my legs were hurting more and more every time I tried to just get into a good pace. Mentally, I was not in a good place. I kept telling my trainer to bugger off and leave me to walk alone so at least she could do a good effort, but she refused. Was sick of kids coming up to ask for money/Ipods/cellphones. Sick of local spectators snorting with contempt as we trudged past. Saw wazungu runners heading back down the hill swarmed by local kids or in one instance almost taken out by impatient drivers.

We met up with Daudi who had burnt us off but was having trouble with an old knee injury. As we trudged, our intrepid friend Intrepid turned up on the back of a motorcycle with bananas for us. She had run a half marathon that morning and was now here to give support to her fellow elite athletes. Cheers! We also got encouraging phone calls from Dr Bob along the way which helped our spirits.

I walked/shuffled/jogged in smaller and smaller spurts on towards the 31 km turnaround point. The scenery was beautiful with rolling coffee fields but I was too self pitying to care. The wife tried increasingly harder to shake me out of my funk and get me to run....but it hurt so much. I did have a nice chat to a mellow American runner and a wiry old Canadian on the way: 'look at it this way, you are beating everyone who stayed home on the couch'.

I felt a bit better mentally once we got to the turnaround point and were going down hill, but my legs kept feeling worse. Agony (as I kept telling my trainer repeatedly). It was around noon and the Sun was becoming more and more of a factor beating down on us.

As I felt more hope as we got closer to 38, 39 km marks, I started shuffling a little bit faster. Funny how hope/despair affects physical performance.

By now most of the water stops had been dismantled, we were two runners in a race that-bar a few other stragglers-was pretty much over. We were moving amongst vehicles and pedestrians just going about their Sunday business. We periodically saw an ambulance drive past to check if we were okay.

About the 41 km mark, I finally kicked off the funk and put everything into a final run for the finish line. Was funny running towards the stadium as lots of people were heading out of it home...we had no idea where to go. Finally we got directions and headed into the home stretch. The 'Start/Finish' arch had been taken down already but I didn't care.

(here they come!)


(there they go!)

There were still a lot of people in the stadium, and a live band so we got some cheers (particularly from our support crew) as we hit the finish line.

Yes! 42.2 km done in a very poor time of 6:54. But yo, I went the distance.
Official race results:
http://www.kilimanjaromarathon.com/upload/Results/42_2KMRaceResults.pdf


(My trainer is happy it's done, cheers Bibi Stones for the photos!)

People were congratulating us but I was spacing out in the hot sun. I grabbed my medal/t-shirt for finishing and vainly looked for some shade. Bibi Stone's husband drove me home and I collapsed on a bed in a darkened room. I hoped I wasn't going to suffer the same fate as the first marathon runner in 490 BC. I was dehydrated, hadn't eaten solid food all day, had feet covered in blisters, chafing in places you don't want chafing and I could barely sit/stand/move. I started chugging back sodas and water. The wife came home with the others and we headed (slowly and painfully!) to our stalwart American friend Doctor Bob's place for showers and celebratory margaritas!

Daudi (who rocks for completing the event on a bad knee) and Bexter eventually headed off home to Arusha, Intrepid, Franatee and I decided to stay the night at Dr Bobs. More drinks and we slowly faded to sleep while watching the movie 'Run Fatboy Run' on a computer.

We had sensibly taken Monday off as leave in order to recover. We swam in the YMCA pool, said goodbye to Intrepid (maybe for the last time before we leave Tanzania, sigh) then we relaxed the rest of the day.

My 'trainer' without my knowledge had not drunk/eaten enough Monday to recover properly so come monday evening, she was really ill. C'mon mke, you need to drink more freaking water! I put her to bed and kept an eye on her. Tut. Tut. She's feeling much better now though.

Jerry's Final Thought

So 'marathon' is now ticked off the bucket list. I'm sure some serious runners are likily to sneer at my paltry effort and maybe wonder what the point was if I didn't put in lots of long distance training and thus not get a respectable time. 'Were there only old people behind you?' a manager asked at work when I told her my time. Ha.

But I'm only really racing against myself ain't I? And just goin' the distance is a big deal for me. Yeah, I'm disappointed at my time but humbled as well. You can't be mentally or physically strong without the good prep. Rocky had heart, but he put that heart into training hard. I'll get there.

I'm still stoked I finished this thing. Without my wife encouraging me to run consistently this year, making me believe it was possible that I could finish a marathon, I wouldn't have done it. I was her support climbing Kili, she was mine as we ran/walked a marathon. We fill each other's gaps.

We did it. Yo Franatee, we did it.

(3rd, 4th and 5th to last place getters hang out after the run)

Kilimanjaro Marathon in two days

'You know what you have to do. Do it. Do it.'
Duke to Rocky, Rocky IV

A running event seems a pretty unimportant thing compared to the events going on back home in post-Earthquake devastated Christchurch. I've felt flat, down and far from home all week thinking about this tragedy. Yet proud of the kiwis and rescue workers digging deep and helping each other out. The thoughts and prayers of us volunteers are with you all. If you have not seen it already, this link shows where you can donate to victims of this disaster :

http://www.nzherald.co.nz/nz/news/article.cfm?c_id=1&objectid=10708187

All the wife and I can do for now is to dedicate our marathon effort to the people of Christchurch, to your grit and your pain and endurance. I'll try to find some items of red and black colour -ie Canterbury colours- to wear.

I haven't done enough long runs to prepare for this event. Yes, I have been running fairly consistently while in Tanzania but they've mostly been short distance. I'm not in the right shape, too soft from my desk job. I don't have fancy gear, just a black singlet and shorts. All I got is heart.

A 42.2 kilometre run starting Sunday Feb 27 2011 at 630am. A route starting at Moshi Stadium at 630am, running down the road that goes to Dar Es Salaam before turning and winding around the suburbs of Moshi town before heading up, up, up a gradually steep incline towards Mount Kilimanjaro before turning at the 31km mark or so and careening down again to the finish line at the Stadium.

I just wanna go the distance. I want to earn some self respect. I want to represent for the people back home who are doing the real suffering/work/grieving/rebuilding.

Let's see what happens.



Postscript
Just went and officially registered/paid. No backing out now. The race number alloted to me is '126'. If you want some obscure trivia, '126' is considered a lucky number in Judaism:

In Hebrew, each letter also has a numerical value. So, for example, the word for "life" in Hebrew is composed of two letters whose numerical value is 18.
126 is 7 times 18 ie 7 x "life" =life for each day of the week ie a blessing.

Day by Day

Gotta lot of loose ends to tie up, less than 1.5 weeks of work to go. Then I got an urgent query from a fellow volunteer about land law and what legal power allows the displacement of a whole village...arrgh, I freakin' hate Tanzanian land law.

Feeling flat all week, monitoring the news from home and the steadily increasing death count from the Christchurch earthquake. Those are my brothers and sisters. It's been dislocating to have the normal life of Tanzania rolling on around us, while a tragedy is going on at home 1000s of kilometres away.

Yet I am uplifted by the stories about Kiwis pitching in in small and big ways to help each other. My respect for my sister nursing and giving triage in that devastated landscape is off the chart, so proud.

Last night the wife and I went and had dinner with a manager and her husband at their house. I think I needed that family kinda vibe at this time. It was relaxing chatting outside (no power) as bats, hedgehogs and the odd monkey capered around. I'll miss the human connections you make with people after being in a context for a while. Having a meal. Sharing a joke. Giving and recieving sympathy. There is more that makes us 'the same' than makes us 'different'.

Shit

(Spire of 100 year+ Christchurch Cathedral collapsed)

Woke up Monday morning African time to the news from New Zealand about another earthquake in Christchurch. One of the worst since the '31 quake in Hawkes Bay. Those poor, poor people. Thoughts and prayers for all people affected and the families/friends of those killed. Felt sick looking at photos of devastation, crushed buses, traumatised people...awful, just awful.I thank God my sister is alive. Spoke to her on the phone, it sounds unreal. I'm real proud she is using her hard won nursing skills to help people on the ground.

Our first National State of Emergency ever. Probably the worst disaster New Zealand has ever seen.

My home part of the world has taken a kicking this year, what with the mine explosion, earlier earthquakes in Christchurch, floods in Australia etc Kia Kaha

Cheeky Weekend at Lake Manyara/Karatu Pt 3-Finale

‘We are elite athletes.’

Despite having a few drinkees last night, four of us decided to do a high altitude (Karatu is at 1800 metres) run near the dense bush that marks the border of the Ngorogoro Conservation Area. One of us is doing the half marathon next weekend, the other three have ambitiously decided to do the full marathon.

Commence 45 minutes of puffing and panting through wet grass, over muddy roads and past some beautiful views of rolling bush.

(The Elite are on the move)

(a banda(hut) and bush stretching off into Ngorogoro as we huff and puff along)

Lots of fresh elephant dung on the trail. The tembo come foraging at local farms at night before melting back into the Ngorogoro bush. A source of major annoyance to the local farmers and coffee growers (while tembo will not eat the coffee they will stamp all over it to get to other tasty greens.) Lamentably, we did not run across any stray elephant.

(c'mon mke!)
Later we went for a walk and took in Intrepid’s classroom she’s put together. I felt proud to see where she taught. In a very Kiwi, roll up your sleeves and get on with it kind of way, she’s really made something out of nothing there and is making a real difference to the learning of some poor as hell kids.

(class is in session)
Respect, Intrepid. We saw some local kids shyly watching us doing our tour as they collected water from a local tap. Coffee fields stretching and rolling off into the distance. Can I say again this is such a tranquil setting?! Might be due to the recent heavy rain and greenness. They will need more of it though if the maize crop is going to do well though.

(trays for gathered coffee beans to be placed on to dry)
After a lunch in Karatu-where Franatee enjoyed the chance to have a captive dog audience for petting-we said goodbye to Intrepid and with Bexter at the helm we drove off. Bexter, being a novelty of a blonde woman driver attracted a fair share of comments from other road users. My favourite was the ‘Kwa Nini? (Why?!)’ a guy yelled at us as we drove past and pointed at Bexter. Otherwise, a nice dusk drive back to Arusha, watching the colourful Masai and their herds that wander the plains.

‘Attack of the Zombie Child Swarm’

On getting into Arusha we dropped our gear at Daudi’s house (we were going to stay the night) and went to local bar for some beers and chipsi mayai. In retrospect my omission to change from shorts into longs was probably unwise. My Hawaiian shirt/shorts combo drew a lot of attention from a nearby group (gang) of children. Soon we were swarmed by the cheeky youngsters, begging for soda, money anything. Hope they weren’t the same kids that Bexter saw stoning a stray dog this one time. They followed us for a ways back to Daudi’s flat. Guess you haven’t lived till you’ve been swarmed in the dark by a gang of feral children. Maybe ‘feral’ is too strong a word. Ah, they were just trying their luck. But don’t turn your back on those cheeky tykes (shudder)!

Our stay at Chateau Daudi was certainly proceeding eventfully. But after getting back inside and nailing every door and window shut to stop the little horrors getting in (kidding. but not really) we watched a movie and relaxed. Had a great night’s sleep. Said goodbye to Daudi and Bexter and bussed back to Moshi for a cheeky late start to work Monday under a vista of Kilimanjaro covered in snow (due to the recent short burst of heavy rains).

Great weekend. I felt sad though on Monday. Gonna miss the friends I have made here. Quite a bit.

Cheeky Weekend at Lake Manyara/Karatu Pt 2

I woke up a bit crabby in the morning from lack of sleep due to mosquitoes. Planes raced at low level over the campsite taking eager tourists to the nearby proudly named ‘Manyara Airport’ ie a rough strip on top of the escarpment.

After chewing eggs and red bananas in Mtu-WaMbu, we headed into the Lake Manyara park for some safari action. Lake Manyara was last on our priority list of Northern Safari Circuit Parks, but it certainly was well worth it.

We saw lots of baboons and monkeys, hippos grazing in the daytime (unusual), zebra fighting and biting each other and tons (literally)of elephant. The first elephant we saw was wandering in the mid-distance so I cheekily popped out of the car to get a better photo. Ah, the wind was blowing towards me, all good.

(hippo)

Just as we resumed tootling along in the car, a big shape pushed out of the foliage by the side of the road. Hatari! Tembo! The elephant and our intrepid driver were equally startled as we began a stealthy reverse. I wasn’t that freaked out but I got a little bit serious about telling my fellow passengers not to shriek or make noise.

(phew he's moving on)

Thankfully, the elephant relaxed and ambled on its way. Soon we were driving through a large spread out herd of mothers, adolescents and babies. We saw a massive tusker dwarfing the other elephants around it. Possibly the herd matriarch? Magnificent.

(what a monster)


(elephant everywhere we drove!)

Had a lunch break near-ish Lake Manyara proper. Some giraffe wandering in a stately manner in the distance. The lake is growing smaller year by year apparently, the water certainly looked quite far away.

(Giraffe wanders past with Lake Manyara in the distance)

After exiting the park, we met up with our friends Daudi and Bexter who had driven up from Arusha. After a cheeky beer we drove off in convoy to the town of Karatu proper. At least we drove until stopped by some cops angling for bribe money. They were making ridiculous claims like one of our cars had no current fire extinguisher sticker (it did) and that the car was a ‘bus’ for the purposes of fine levels. We stuck to our guns and were soon on our way, without having to pay. Something about cops here angling for money always sickens me, no matter how long I stay here. ‘Serve and Protect’ my CUSS.


‘Practice your mudslides’

(hmm...bit of mud)
One of our drivers had to bail to see a friend in hospital so, 6 of us had to cram into the remaining small 4WD vehicle. Ouch. We turned onto the off-road mudtrack that led to the place Intrepid was staying. She warned the driver to practice his mud sliding on the good parts of the road, as due to a recent spell of heavy rain, the way would be a mire. She was right. A couple of near misses and slides, a big ditch and one epic race through a huge puddle, left the car coated in mud and the passengers equally exhilarated and terrified. We are not all as intrepid as Intrepid.
We arrived at our destination about 5pm. A former colonial building now a religious community for Catholic Brothers and guest house.

Intrepid has been staying there while she waits for a flat to be completed for her near the primary school she volunteers at. The surrounds of the Brother's House were beautiful. Rolling coffee plantations leading off to dense green bush marking the boundary with the Ngorogoro Conservation Area.


Notwithstanding, the poverty of the locals in the area, I took guilty pleasure in feeling relaxed in a peaceful environment. Had some sundowners while watching a colony of chattering weaver birds settling down for the night.

Felt like I was unwinding.

(Volunteers relaxing)

The rest of the evening we spent in fellowship aided by some cheeky bottles of wine. Intrepid showed us some handstands. I reflected on my atrocious upper body strength and my need to get back to a gym when we get home ASAP. We planned to get in a dawn run so I needed my beauty sleep, so retired to a big comfy bed with zero mosquitos.

To be Concluded.

Cheeky Weekend at Lake Manyara/Karatu Pt 1

‘Watch out for baboon roadkill’

Been watching all three 'Bourne Identity' movies with Dr Bob's, our American friend’s house. Am constantly struck between the similarities of a black ops assassin working for a shadowy government program and my work.

The wife and I had Friday off (as we had worked the Muslim holiday we recently had on Wednesday) so we planned to head west of Moshi. We were going to stay Friday night at a camp on the Rift Valley escarpment before travelling Saturday further on to see where our good friend Intrepid Kat works in the Karatu District. Our volunteer handler was in Moshi to meet with our bosses (p.s they gave us glowing reports-yusss!), so he gave us a ride to Arusha. As we drove we talked about Uganda and travel insurance-or lack thereof- (‘you can buy an AK-47 in Kampala’ he said deadpan) and the ins and outs of volunteer living. Will miss our handler when we leave, he’s a solid guy. It’s all gone so fast, seems just like yesterday he was picking us up from the Kilimanjaro airport in March '10.

In Arusha, we crammed into a ‘speed taxi’ minibus and shot off at speed for Karatu. I got off to a bad first impression with the driver who asked me to open the door as we drove. On me doing so he started screeching in Swahili...other passengers told me he had meant ‘window’. Awkward.

We passed zebras and the town of Mtu-WaMbu (mosquito river) then started trundling up the high escarpment that marks the boundary of the Great Rift Valley (ie the 6000km long trench that extends from Syria to Mozambique.) Nice views of Lake Manyara as we climbed up. We got to the top of the escarpment and following Intrepid Kat’s instructions we jumped out.

(Lake Manyara)


(that escarpment wall is deep, yo)


(the wife taking in the view)


The ‘Panorama Campsite’ was a 500 metres walk off the main road, so we settled in there and chilled out with some beers taking in the dramatic view of the Rift Valley floor.

(not a bad view for a beer)
Intrepid turned up around 6pm with a couple of friends, including one from Uganda. We were soon picking the brains of our new Ugandan chum for information about her home country. It sounds epic.

As the sun set and a red moon rose, we rolled in another friend’s car back down to Mtu-WaMbu dodging a baboon squashed on the escarpment road and grabbed a bite to eat at a local pizza place - the food there was awesome!

Back at the campsite, I didn’t sleep well, Mtu-WaMbu (mosquito river) is well named and despite the height of our campsite there were mosquitoes everywhere. Including in our tent. Efforts to squash them proved fruitless and finally we fell asleep out of exhaustion.

To Be Continued

Ugandan Election concluded (I hope)

http://edition.cnn.com/2011/WORLD/africa/02/20/uganda.election/index.html?hpt=T2

Didn't even click the Ugandan election was held Friday Feb 18th. No surprises on the winner in this race. Another five year term for long time President Museveni. I just want it to be quiet for another 3 weeks or so, so we can get in and out.

Getting a fatigued of internally/externally debating on the merits of our Ugandan sojourn with various people-both informed and ignorant. For every person who has recently done the gorilla trek and loved it, there is someone happy to tell us of potential dire outcomes of the election or remind us that Joseph Kony (of the dreaded Lord's Resistance Army) is apparently still at large in the DRC area bordering Uganda's Southwest. Met a Ugandan women on the weekend funnily enough, she rang some tour operator friends in Bwindi forest at the moment...it is all quiet and peaceful.

When does legitimate concern become scaremongering? When does a calculated risk become flippancy? Just going to treat this like the Kili climb and take it one day at a time...if at any time it feels fishy, we out.

In other news, some time ago, my friend Doctor Bob on outreach to a village saw a girl near death, in a poor family situation. The wife and I pressured our staff to get our NGO's contacts in the community to look in on her. They are doing so and now a sick girl has a better safety net than she had before. Just shows that for every apathetic local there are people who care and that if an individual engages with the right people and picks a discrete battle, they can achieve something positive.

Ode to a dusk training run

Finis.

Will vs Skill

How strong is a gorilla? I mean really?

We've all heard the hype.

'as strong as 20 men'
'one of the strongest land mammals on Earth'
'able to bend tempered steel, pull people's arms off etc etc'

But looking on the Net, there seems to be very few ACTUAL empirical studies made of gorilla strength. I've never met anyone who has seen a gorilla do some super human feat of strength. Have you? All I've seen is shots on TV of gorillas sitting around looking bored eating shoots and what not.

Surely, I owe it to science to test once and for all: can a human adult of average physical condition take a punch from a fully grown 600 pound Silver back male gorilla. I'm not talking about harassing gentle great apes...just a friendly inter species good will exhibiton of strength.

(Three 6 Mafia's 'It's a Fight' plays through Manfred's deluded brain)

Not that I want to get into arm wrestling or any form of grappling, I think a gorilla would own me in that field...I'm not suicidal. But a cheeky tease of a gorilla and a resultant quick jab from the Simian in March '11...that may be survivable? Huh?

'I got punched by a gorilla': that's the dinner party story that you can dine out on for the rest of your life!



Sigh. Also just heard from our Volunteer Organisation back home (why didn't I just keep quiet) we will get no travel insurance cover while in the Bwindi Forest...stupid MFAT travel warnings. Guess for protection I'll just have to take those surplus Russian grenades I have lying around then...

Nimechoka sana

Tell me, friend, can you ask for anything more?
Tell me can you ask for anything more?
Bruce Springsteen, 'The Wrestler'

So tired. I know I keep whinging on but I am. It's a fatigue that comes from a year of having to be on guard/the bigger person/the driving force against apathy etc. Respect to volunteers who can do more than one year, you guys rock...but man, I'm beat.

There's a lot that has to happen in the next few weeks, people to farewell, trips to do, bureaucracy and baggage to engage with.

I can feel some faint hints of depression circling about like distant shadows under the water, but I'm not really sure what the cause is. Guilt? Fear about returing to the Shire AKA NZ? Exhaustion? Chronic tooth pain? Lack of sleep? Pining for television? Other volunteers becoming more distant as we are about to go? The fact I have a bloody marathon to run in a couple of weeks? All of the above I suspect.

Okay, Africa old son, you got three more weeks to knock me around. You can pound on me with guilt and power cuts and marital bickering from working/living together 24-7.Bring it, Africa. Cause I'm not going down for the 10 count yet!

Counting Down

'Surfing's the source man... swear to God.'
Kid in surf shop, Point Break

This post has nothing to do with surfing...just wishing I was back at the beach. Sigh.

Woke up early (like 3am) Friday morning with a lot of mouth pain...so Friday (after begging the wife to come as moral support) went off-by bus then a taxi with a sticker proclaiming 'this vehicle protected by the Blood of Jesus'-to the Seventh Day Adventist Dental Clinic in Arusha for a checkup. I really don't want a tooth extracted in Africa. Let alone the risk of HIV, botched surgery or whatever...I just don't want to waste days recovering when I have so little time left.

The dentist said I have a wisdom tooth impacting far above the gumline...as he can't pull that one out he suggested ripping out the one in front of it.

I just said prescribe me lots of pain killers and I'll try to hold out until I'm back in NZ. He just shrugged and asked me if I can take pain. I guess so.
Trudged off, watched a terrible Johnny Depp film 'The Tourist' at the Njero Cinema then rode back to Moshi with a mate, Daudi who wanted to run with us the next day.

Saturday morning we did a shoddy 1.5 hour run along the main road from Moshi to Dar Es Salaam while a drunk guy pestered us. So not ready for the marathon in two weekends..

The rest of the weekend, I seethed about a lack of water/power, felt jubilant as some small rain came down and otherwise was absorbed in a non-fiction book about Louis Zamperini, a runner at the '36 Olympics in Berlin, a flyboy in WW2, castaway on a raft in the Pacific for 30 days, subsequently held captive by the Japanese until 1945. Amazing, amazing story from the author of 'Seabiscuit'. I suppose I should read that book too. Love my Amazon Kindle.

At the staff meeting this Monday morning after a darkly funny Swahili rendition of 'Nearer my God to thee' ie the Titanic sinking song, we were told we could have next Friday off due to a Muslim holiday. Yes! Planning with our mate Intrepid for a cheeky long weekend at a campsite near the Rift Valley, yay!!

Gorilla/Guerilla Warfare

"Risk... Risk is our business. That's what this starship is all about. That's why we're aboard her!"
Captain James T Kirk 'Return to Tomorrow'

Over the last few months, the wife and I have been quietly working away at planning/booking our last hurrah in Africa: a trip to Uganda to see the gorillas in Bwindi Impenetrable Forest, home to half of the world's remaining gorillas. I'd rather see the gorillas in Uganda than Rwanda, I hear Uganda is beautiful and I'm not in the mood at this stage for Rwandan genocide related depression..

It's been a frustrating exercise organising this Ugandan expedition from Tanzania, for example the Ugandan tour company can't electronically process credit cards, nor can Tanzanian banks seem to send money easily to a Ugandan bank account. An exercise in patience. But we're getting there.

One last hiccup.

I knew the North of Uganda was a bit unsafe, what with roaming bands of child soldiers, the Lord's Resistance Army and what not, but I had assumed the South of Uganda was safer. And I still think it is...but...as you can see in the attached map, Bwindi Forest-in the Southwest of Uganda-is a little bit close to the Democratic Republic of Congo (ie hell on earth ie the last place in Africa you ever want to go.)


The NZ Foreign Affairs (MFAT) website mentions 'extreme risk' in going to Bwindi Impenetrable National Park due to 'banditry and cross-border attacks by rebel groups'. Hm.

This spooked us a bit but MFAT has always been a bit gun shy in their travel warnings. I think they take into account whether or not they have close by embassies in making their assessment. I'm pretty sure they said Israel was 'extreme risk' too when I went there in '05. They currently say Tanzania and Zanzibar has 'some risk' to our security...so I mean gotta take 'warnings' with a grain of salt.

I found a report of Hutu rebels ie the ones that took part in the Rwandan genocide killing a group of tourists in Bwindi in '99.
http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/africa/289196.stm
gulp.

We got in touch with our Ugandan Tour Company to express our concerns and their response was that they had never had any security issues in the Forest and that wildlife rangers work hand in hand with the Uganda’s Peoples Defense Force(UPDF)to ensure both up to date information and security. Yay for the stalwart soldiers of the UPDF...hmm.

Then again, we had a kiwi mate and volunteer just do the Bwindi Forest gorilla safari and he said it went fine. Our Volunteer Handler in Arusha did raise his eyebrows a little though when we asked today if our insurance covered our mission into the Ugandan forest...he's going to get back to us. Sigh, don't want a drama. Seems sometimes it's easier not to talk to my handler about some things...

What can I say about all this? Some of you readers are probably shaking your heads in bemusement or disgust...but hey, we're adults. We know the risks. We consulted. We calculated the risks versus the benefits. And we live with the consequences. Plus I've seen enough movies to know how to cope with a machine gun firefight in a jungle. (Kidding. But not really.)

Just make sure my comic collection goes to a good home if this all goes pear shaped...

'If you want the ultimate rush, you gotta be willing to pay the ultimate price'
Bodhi in the documentary 'Point Break'

Zanzibar Part 3-Conclusion

I lay in bed at 630am unable to sleep, so I got up and watched the dawn arrive.



A quick cheeky dawn swim then it was time for breakfast. I didn’t sleep very well last night. The humid heat was pretty full on and a too-short mosquito net meant the wife and I got a few insect bites. So I was a bit grouchy as our overly chilled out Tanzania guest house 'concierge' plopped a greasy egg on my plate as my ‘included breakfast’. The mango was nice though...We had one last dip of our toes then we met our driver at 930am and shot off back to Stone Town. Wish I had more time at the beach...and Stone Town...and everywhere in Zanzibar, sigh.

The Wife and I got dropped at the ‘House of Wonders’ built in 1883, former Sultan’s Palace, now cultural museum.

(House of Wonders/Musuem)


I enjoyed chilling in the museum. Zanzibar’s had a pretty interesting history. Under Portuguese control for 200 years, then from 1698 under control of Omani Arabs until in fits and starts the British got greater and greater control (especially with the economic impact on the Sultanate of the abolition of slavery).

(Portugese cannons liberated by Arabs now in front of the House of Wonders)

For some reason I enjoy reading about historic trade routes. So I enjoyed reading about the trade carried out by dhows on the ‘Monsoon Route’ between India, Africa and Arabia with Zanzibar as a vital hub. The ‘Sons of Sinbad’ and others plying their trade up and down the East African Coast. A nice tie in to the Dias Museum-about Portuguese traders/explorers- we visited in Mossel Bay on the east coast of South Africa in 2008.


(mke is learning)

The museum had an interesting section noting the positive and negative impacts on Stone Town’s unique identity by tourists. Gulp. Wasn’t me...

(A tourist tries to steal ivory from the Museum)


(view of the water front from a balcony in the House of Wonders)

After the Museum, I followed mke as she wandered about the twisting streets of Stonetown trying to find a Woman’s Rights Project/Shop a Danish friend from the language school we went to in April ’10 ran. (I would LOVE to volunteer in Zanzibar. I would be on that opportunity like a fat kid on cake, just saying).

Just as I was starting to whinge about our getting lost in the humid heat of Stone Town, we found the place and Mke bought a fetching dress. We wandered off to buy tourist knickknacks in random stores then we found a cafe another friend from Arusha had recommended. Loved the Cafe’s sticky date cake with caramel sauce. Loved a nice chat with a waitress in Swahili. Such nice decor in Stone Town...none of the Coca Cola themed plastic furniture we are used to at ‘cafes’ in Moshi.

We went and sat at the waterfront with ice creams and tried to stay in the shade. We saw one googly eyed crazy looking guy watching us, but that could just be my Moshi paranoia. Marks down Stone Town for all the sewage we saw being pumped directly into the water tut tut.

(juxtaposition)


(playing pirate on the water front.)

The horror, the horror

Sigh, it was time to leave. I really needed more time. Both in Stone Town and snorkeling at beaches. Devastated there were no whale sharks cruising outside my guesthouse window...anyway. Our driver chum (who was getting a lot of business from us over the last few days!) picked us up at 330pm to take us to the Airport for our 500pm flight. Only as we checked in they told unapologetically that our flight was delayed due to ‘technical problems’ until 715pm. Arrgh.

I really did not want to have to drive back from Kilimanjaro International Airport (KIA) in pitch black to Moshi. To say nothing of being worried we would be locked out of our home...our security guards are somewhat lax with opening/shutting gates past certain hours. Plus we would have to do a stupid jump off the plane and jump back on in Dar Es Salaam on the way home. We went through X-Ray screening and all the weird shapes in my backpack ie metal souvenir planes, Amazon Kindle, Zanzibar wooden chest etc meant Security demanded I empty my bag out.

Aviation Security ‘What is this?’ (fingering our possum and giraffe puppet mascots)
Franatee ‘It’s for our watoto’ (children)
Aviation Security ‘And this?’ (fingering my Nintendo DS)
Manatee ‘Um..It’s also for our watoto’
Aviation Security ‘Where are these watoto?!’
Franatee ‘Er..ah..nyumbani (home)?’
BUSTED.

After that pointlessness, in an increasingly foul/antsy mood, I sat drinking lots of fake imitation Mountain Dew next to a group of four obese Americans, drumming my fingers. Still not unconvinced it was not just a scam to get people to spend more money on duty free rubbish (which I did...).

Our plane finally arrived at 730pm and we piled on. We touched down in Dar Es Salaam after a 15 minute flight (ridiculous) then had to disembark, get new boarding passes, go through security and get back on the plane.

It was a travesty. A Tanzanian stewardess trying to coordinate the plane change over had printed out some of the boarding passes and started calling out Russian names (those damn Russians AGAIN!!!) and screaming at us to get new boarding passes and then move as fast as we could to the Gate. Stressful. We got to a screening point after a sprint and I got more and more frustrated waiting for the uber slow African-speed screening process. Finally we were through and on the plane.

We got into KIA at 945pmish, jumped in a taxi and raced pell-mell in the dark for home, praying that the drunk driver swaying in the land cruiser ahead of us would not cause us any problems. We got home at 11pmish and thank Mungu our gate was unlocked. Cue much relief and sinking into bed, tuckered out.

So that was the cheeky weekend that was. Fun times, just wished it had been longer. If you ever get a chance to go to Zanzibar DO IT!

Zanzibar Part 2

Woke up after a great night’s sleep in an air conditioned room. Was feeling very mixed about having to leave the delights of the Dhow Hotel, but Jambiani beach is on the other side of the island, an hour or so away by minivan so it was time to go...

Jambiani is not nearly as popular as some other Zanzibar beaches, such as the crowded Northern Beach Nungwi. Maybe because Jambiani is a tidal beach? Not such a party vibe? Anyway, we were keen for some low key relaxing. The drive to the beach was scenic through palm trees, markets and lots of cows pulling carts.

(on the road)

Villages looked more..presentable (what a horrible thing to say)...though we were on a main tourist route I guess. Through Jozani forest home to the rare endemic Red Colobus monkey. Past police checkpoints (our driver giving them their soda money as we went through), a butterfly centre and a sea turtle sanctuary. We started to see the odd glimpse of white sands in the distance.

We got our driver to pick up a Norwegian party girl/volunteer who was hitchhiking. Traffic and chances of a ride were pretty sparse where we were. She annoyed the heck outta me. She rattled on about parties, orphans, parties, orphans. I tuned out. I don’t think she even thanked us for stopping...

We ditched party/orphan girl and finally found the Jambiani Guest House. It was a cute thatched roof house right on the beachfront.

(da guesthouse)

While the tide was out, the turquoise of the water in the distance and the white sand were pretty inviting. Jambiani village extended right up to the beach front too, funny to have the tourists and the village so close...a good thing in my opinion.

(beach front)

The local guy running the guesthouse was chilled. Maybe too chilled. He reminded me of a stoner surfer without the stoning or the surfing. We dumped our gear in our petite (read- cramped) room, grabbed snorkel and masks and headed on the long trudge to the water. The sun was intense on our squinting eyes...in retrospect we should have put sunscreen on too..,we got to the water and jumped in to swim....hey, wait a minute...the current was crazy sweeping out to the left into the Indian Ocean. We could see breakers on a nearby reef. While the water was warm, it wasn’t unpleasant and we splashed around in the shallows. I found a few critters lurking down below, crabs, fish and one monster crayfish.

When we got tired of swimming we trudged back to the Guest House past locals working on their kelp farms/plots on the tidal flats. We were offered the chance to go snorkelling on the reef, but I kinda just wanted to blob out.

Then the day got awesome. We found a nearby tiki/kokomo bar. Cocktails and dreams. The wife and I spent thousands of shillings sampling all the cocktails made from local fruits and ingredients.

(the bar!)


(chug chug chug)

The hard life of the volunteer...I was so happy being a cocktail drinking fop. Calamari for lunch. Every now and then, chilled out locals would walk past and we’d yak a bit in Kiswahili. It was nice.

(locals walking back with fish and seaweed as the tide comes in more)

A woman called Subira came past and offered to give us massages. I declined, but the wife leapt on the offer. I left her to get coconut oiled up while I went to do more swimming. The tide was starting to come in fast now. I manage to see a few yellow and white striped fish darting around before the incoming tide stirred the water into a cloudy white murk.

(that tide is coming in fast!)

The wife and I met up and wandered into Jambiani Village.

(get wandering, Mke)

Funny after all our village missions around Moshi to be in a village surrounded by coconut palms and white sand. People were friendly and chilled about us wandering through. No hassling us for money and people being nice when you say you don’t want a boat ride etc. Is it something in the fish? People realising unmolested tourists=tourists will keep coming there? We ended up at the ‘Rainbow Cafe’ a touristy place for ice cream and coffee. We watched some locals playing soccer, a confused bleating goat hanging out in the sandy background and a white girl with ‘VOLUNTEER’ emblazoned on her tee-shirt. She ignored us. Some whiteys are just too cool to communicate with other whiteys, it might ruin their ‘authentic African experience’.

The Cafe cranked up the ‘Baywatch’ theme to full volume. We jogged/danced in slow motion to it as the confused goat looked on, even more confused. We grabbed another swim at the beach...the tide was really coming in now in strong waves...the beachfront had pretty much disappeared. Mke had some trouble getting up as waves kept knocking her down..oops..

(a blog writer mucking around in the water)

As the sun went down we resumed our spots at the tiki bar for more cocktails and seafood. There are worse places to be on earth than watching the stars come out over Indian ocean waves and palm trees. The finale of the evening was seeing a hapless tourist heading home on the beach in the dark and getting caught in the volleyball net. ‘Catch of the Day’ indeed.

To Be Concluded