hakuna matata
27 january 2001

here's the rest of the story. it took us about 4 hours to drive back to arusha, where we had lunch at an ethiopian restaurant, included in our safari price. after saying our fond farewells and expressing our gratitude to christopher and raphael, we booked a room at that very place and headed for the hot shower. the only thing to do upon completing a journey such as this is to sit and reflect on it and that's just how we whiled away the rest of that afternoon: being high on "safari".

pressing on to our next destination would involve taking a bus, which i mentioned earlier. hakuna matata {no problem}, as it was well equipped with videos, and a wc, and it left exactly on time. we were glad to be out of arusha, passing through some smaller towns, such as moshi, at the foot of kilamanjaro. this scenic bus trek placed us in a town called mombo and from there we were immediately crowded into a matatu, a van type vehicle packed to the gills, in order to reach the town of lushoto. "safety first" is not a concept in this part of the world; i was amazed at how many actual bodies they managed to squeeze into that matatu. fortunately, i was distracted by the lavish mountains and waterfalls and knew that we had made the right choice to go there. we traipsed around town toting backpacks and looked at a few hotels before settling on one. they said they had hot water but apparently my idea of what that is must be different because the water was barely warm, not to mention brown in color. gary's solution was to do a bucket bath instead of a shower and he offered to be my nubian slave and wash my hair. sounds romantic, not....

overlooking these inconveniences, as one must, we really enjoyed that town. it was much less travelled by tourists and the hiking was well worth the effort to get there. we hooked up with two guys who had just completed their tour of duty with the peace corps in ghana, west africa. josh and billy were rather entertaining, carefree spirits just groovin' on the third world experience and livin' large. we got some first hand insights on that part of africa and had some laughs with those two. gary shared some locally made {by nuns} banana wine with them but i found it undrinkable. yes, it's as bad as it sounds. we hiked with them to a place called irente viewpoint, an easy trek leading to a promontory with a major vista view. we also had a guide, but i think our "guide karma" was all used up; he was kind of a dud. it didn't really matter, it was all about the scenery and getting some exercise. lushoto was once a german settlement and almost became a regional center at one time. the lutheran church has a strong influence there and supports the irente farm, the source of homemade jams, cheeses, and brown bread, a rarity in africa. we had a picnic on the premises, sampling these delights and buying some to take with us. lush hills surrounded us as we made our way down the mountain, frequently encountering colorfully dressed women, baskets piled high on their heads, and lots of smiling children presenting me with freshly picked wildflowers. two young boys were riding bicycles made from trees and we asked permission to take a picture. very creative engineering, we thought. in the distance, we heard women ululating, that high pitched quivering sound made from the throat, and we learned that it was probably in celebration of a birth.

our intention was to hike again the next day, but the morning dawned cloudy and we decided to move on. we were ready to go to the city; dar es salaam. how to get there was the million dollar question and we had anticipated that this might be a problem. we couldn't have just jumped back on the luxury bus because we were in the middle of the route and it wasn't possible to buy a ticket and be guaranteed a seat. why? it just doesn't work that way in some places. thinking about that still makes me shrug my shoulders in bewilderment. so now my worst nightmare was about to come true: A LONG BUS RIDE ON A NON LUXURY BUS WITH WAY TOO MANY PEOPLE AND NO TOILET OR AIR CONDITIONING ON A NINETY DEGREE DAY! gary was prepared to hire a taxi to take us there but there was no one to hire. i felt trapped, thinking we might not ever get out of that town. i was trying to hold my tongue since there was no other option and after waiting 3 full hours for the bus, we reluctantly, with sadness, boarded.

having a sometimes unsettled stomach and being slightly claustrophobic in a situation like this is really a bad combination for me. i had to fight back tears and talk myself out of several panic attacks during the course of that hateful 7 hour 20 minute bus trip. not that gary enjoyed these conditions, he's just much more accepting as he quietly sat there sweating profusely. i think he even managed to read some of his book. how nice that we stopped exactly once for a bathroom break. i was not eating or drinking anything, which, helped, and i was pretty dehydrated when we got to the city. we stopped about 20 times for a police check, which was worse than actually moving because the air was really sticky. at one of the checkpoints, it seemed as if we got a fine, let me guess, too many people sitting in the aisles, perhaps? gary promised we could get off if we really couldn't stand it another minute. i thought long and hard about it but we definitely would have been stranded. at last we arrived in dar, covered in bus dust, practically leaped into a taxi and off we went. we thought about burning our "bus" clothes but in a more practical moment, sent them to the hotel laundry the next day. suddenly i noticed that i had nerve damage from that horrendous bus ride; one of my fingertips was completely numb, i suppose from gripping the bar of the seat in front of me. it still feels kind of weird sometimes. that night i probably had the best shower of my life, even better than the one after safari. we scarfed down some wonderful thai food and remarked on the quality of the hotel, where we would hang for the next three days.

dar, as we were so affectionately calling it, was hot! certainly it didn't bother me, but i thought we might have to pack gary in ice at one point. we soon realized that all activities would have to be done in the morning hours, but did manage to do a walking tour, including the somewhat rundown botanic gardens. the city doesn't really feel like a city, more like a big fishing town. not that there isn't traffic and buildings but the pace is very much laid back. perhaps because of the heat. our goal was to relax for the last part of the trip and we did a lot of reading and some shopping. our hotel room on the eighth floor offered a lovely panorama of the harbor and of the lutheran church across the street and we were content to hang out there. one night we ventured out to "smokey joe's" for a rooftop buffet and live music. we were seated with some other people, which would have been great if they had said one word to us, but they basically didn't want to know us. the band was absolutely talent free and i could see how it pained gary's musical ear to endure this so we didn't stay very long. we had to check out the scene though.

my only "complaint" about our stay in dar was that the hotel did not have a pool, which was unfortunate considering what perfect pool weather we had. the next best option was to go to a nearby island. i woke up with a weird rumble in my stomach that morning and by the time we got to the slipway, i didn't think getting on a boat would be a good idea. so gary and i parted ways for the moment and he sailed off. i sat at the slipway enjoying the smell of the ocean, and browsed in the shops before taking a taxi back to town. did i dare walk the city streets without an escort? why not? i felt perfectly safe, but there was no solitude because i was accosted constantly and fell into conversations with several different people {all men, of course, no women would approach you on the street}. i didn't feel threatened ever, just wanted to walk by myself and ended up sitting in a park reading. gary returned not long after and said the boat ride had been rather choppy so i probably made the right decision. he came bearing gifts, damn, he has good taste. he bought a gorgeous teal patterned tablecloth and napkins, a bird guide, and a 2001 date book with great photos of tanzania. i am happily using that every day now.

we wrapped up our visit to dar by not doing much of anything, except some shopping, and left for the last leg of our trip the next afternoon. we had to end up in nairobi eventually, as that's where we were flying from. in case we had forgotten we were still in the third world, we were quickly reminded when a woman "beeped" as she went through security check and no one stopped her!! scary. the "burbs" of nairobi present quite a different picture than the city center, still under heavy guard, but much more pleasant. we stayed at the holiday inn, a beautifully landscaped open air hotel with two pools. it was much cooler there and just a bit too chilly to swim. i, obviously wasn't meant to swim again. i patronized myself by taking a steam sauna instead and having a pedicure with a gorgeous, very outgoing kenyan woman, named janet. she had beautifully braided hair, all the style now, and at one point, i thought about having it done. gary assured me it wouldn't be a good look for me and with that kind of attitude, i lost interest. he may have been right; the frizz factor for me was pretty high in that climate.

our last day in africa was a long one. our flight wasn't until 12:30am so we payed for an extra half day to keep our room. the one thing of interest to us in nairobi was a visit to the karen blixen house, home of the woman who wrote "out of africa". we had seen the movie and i had read the book, which is nothing at all like the movie, and found her to be a fascinating character. there is a whole section of nairobi called "karen", all of which was her land at one time. her house is modestly beautiful and the grounds immaculately kept and it was really fun for me to put the actual visual with what i had read about her. she made kenya her home for a long time in the early 20th century attempting to grow coffee, but eventually she went bankrupt and had to go back to denmark. there seems to be a real sense of respect surrounding her name in kenya.

for the rest of the day, we wrote postcards and read by the pool until it was time to say "kwaheri" to africa. even as i write this, i can't believe we actually went there! i think three weeks of travelling was the perfect amount of time to get a sense of what this incredible place is like. two weeks is always too short but we were able to do and see a variety of things and felt that we were now ready to go home. i would love to go back someday and find out what some other countries are about; they're probably all different and special in their own way. realistically, i'll have to regroup by first going to some western countries before i'm ready to tackle the third world again. this mode of travelling takes some effort but the experience is invaluable. it certainly teaches you something about yourself and your own country as well. for anyone who's even thinking of going to africa......do it!!

kwaheri, {bye}

happy new year to everyone,

with love, afro-deb