Deep in the heart of Tanzania

Tsetse flies and rock art.  One morning we left Amarula camp  and headed south to Kondoa where we did a bit of shopping; ginger, bananas and some fabric… somehow I’m unable to resist, I did however limit my purchase to one. We sat in a small “tea shop” beneath the now leafless Baobab at the centre of town and Elke chatted with a fellow who turned out to be a teacher, hence his relatively passable English. The town has grown, prospered even, since or during the time the Chinese were here building the highways. When they left I’ve heard, they took most of the donkeys and dogs in the vicinity, After two years there are no shortage of loose dogs scrounging around  and I saw plenty of donkeys being herded by Maasai.
After Kondoa we headed west into the terrain of red dirt roads. Not far out of town we came across masses and I mean masses of plastic bags and bottles where it’s been dumped and is now being (you don’t want to hear this) burned. Thankfully we soon left that behind, passing through dry, farmland interspersed with majestic Baobabs.

Crossing a dry river bed on a bridge with schoolgirls playing some game we began to climb through Miombo bush, the leaves on many trees crisp and folded. Surprisingly (at least to me) there are numerous trees blooming at this time, beautiful purple blossoms, puffed out clusters of white and yellow on a type of Acacia along with some other shrubby looking tree coming out with tiny  red flowers that I took to be fuzzy caterpillars as we hurtled along. And we were because the Tsetse flies were doing the damnedest to get inside the vehicle. Many of them. Their bite is rather vicious, I felt one through my sock. They were maintaining speed with the vehicle, landing on the windows, the hood of the Landrover and searching out all the openings we hadn’t been able to plug with tape or cardboard. Once inside they buzzed around the driver especially but I had my share. The women in the back were swatting them as they landed on us, against the windows and whenever they landed.
Today we returned to the edge of their range and drove up through a burnt landscape, the trees scorched, the grass gone and soot and ashes among the fallen leaves swirling in little whirlwinds as we picked our way towards some grand looking rocky outcrops. Earlier we had collected a Ranger from the Game Reserve office to accompany us. He carried an automatic carbine rifle for our safety inside the Swagaswaga reserve.

 Eventually he directed us onto a side road then up the slope to where a few examples of Rock Art were visible on the massive boulders perched there.
 Red ochre paintings of humanistic figures stretching the imagination as to why and when.
 The local residents, Hyrax, apparently appreciate the spot as the ground was deeply littered with their ‘berries’. An occasional fly managed to make itself known  as we made our way back to the vehicle but they were hardly a concern, until we began driving. Did they think the vehicle was an elephant? Although we were in the game reserve all we saw were a number of exotic looking birds a family of baboons, a few monkeys, and one Hyrax up on a branch as we drove by underneath.

Reflections from the forest

Greetings from the forest in Kiambu Kenya
A number of thoughts and imaginings continue to entertain me as I proceed through life considering  what people think (in spite of repeated entreaties to abandon this habit) of my lifestyle choices and personal responsibilities.
So far what I’m doing is keeping me alive and positive in the face of so much destruction. From here the situation in North America seems more scary than what’s happening around me, although, who can say when I’m only aware of a smidgin of the reality both here and there. It’s definitely  warmer here though and cheaper to live, mostly.
 The political situation in Bamenda is sad and frightening, but the non-violent response by the people there gives me hope. I'm sad we had to leave so suddenly.
Just outside Nairobi we are living behind an electric fence next door to a supposed park that was logged by a relative of the previous/current president.  What we are surrounded by is quite parklike in terms of unbroken forest for many metres  along a small river where a golf course shares the other bank. It has not  been disturbed since it was logged over 100 years ago… Troops of monkeys pass by occasionally, upsetting the two dogs living here (more security features) or stealing any fruit left unmonitored for more than a minute. The cats are no help.

Stepping (or mostly driving) out of here through a housing development of monster houses built of cement blocks covered in tile with humoungus walls, gates and hedges gives me pause for 'who is going to live in them and what are they creating?' Little fiefdoms or enclaves, cameras and guards, fancy cars and flashy lifestyles. At the road; buses, 3 wheeled taxis and motorcycles (mattatus, tuk tuk's and, piki pikis)  along with private cars racing by interspersed with trucks. The construction continues of apartment blocks on side roads along  this main road through what used to be large coffee plantations. A few gates still, everyone seems to need some feeling of security, no doubt the after affects of rebellion and colonial control or keeping their livestock from wandering.
At Thindigwa fruit sellers line the road beside the more permanent commercial establishments. At the road junction there are a number of shelters, filled with the waiting piki-pikis mostly, as the Mattatus disgorge and pick-up,  often barely stopping.
Further into town the highway circles and criss-crosses the city, traffic inching along at various times of the day from one exit to the other. The infra structure has yet to catch up with it’s success. New roads under construction beside bumper to bumper vehicles the piki-pikis weaving in and out  while hawkers flog an amazing variety of items to the waiting motorists. Who knew they could sell pillows and towels ? Apples and bananas, potato crisps and tissues, fly swatters and solar flashlights.
It takes an inordinate amount of time to get to where ever we go, mostly due to the traffic, narrow streets and little courtesy. Should it be a mall, of which there are many, everyone must be checked with a wand and walk through the scanner. My nail clippers seldom fail to get a smile from the guards and the military are frequently found unobtrusively  tucked away in quiet corners regarding the scene.
In the grocery stores the variety is phenomenal, how many different types and brands of rice, hot sauce, dairy products and of course alcohol there are! Just like North America eh? However I’m shocked and disappointed by the lack of choice in chocolate. Looks a lot like a monopoly situation. I found one example of fair-trade in a health food store, and that company was purchased by a multi-national. Not naming names.
But out in the “suburbs”beyond the ring road, as the city slowly eats into the arable land there are fewer gates and walls. Mostly folks are crammed into cell blocks of apartments, stacked  here and there across the landscape. It looks like a building boom with so many under construction, with pole scaffolding suspended off the unfinished cement blocks. Or metal roofed one story ’sheds’ housing innumerable families, trash littering the landscape as far as the eye can see.
If anything it emphasises my deeply felt lack of interest in city living. The hustle and bustle certainly providing opportunities for the myriad people flocking to cities everywhere. Commerce and business providing incentives and, hopefully, inspiration, while more trees are cut down, more cement and pavement cover up the earth. But within this environment are many and varied items and restaurants…
I’m considering hiring a tour guide. I’m almost out of thread/string/twine for my weaving, it seems few here do any crochet, knitting or anything but rug weaving. My one successful foray into a mall scored me a colourful selection of some very fine mercerized cotton from France at more than double the price of what I was using previously, from Nigeria.
 I’ve been discouraged from entering the market where I’m sure Indian cotton of similar quality is available, hence the guide. But it appears we’ll be mobile again soon, nomadic so to speak, visiting and exploring more of Kenya, the coast and then back to Tanzania. I’ll park the loom and much of our library till we locate more permanent temporary accommodation.

Christmas in Kenya

 Dec 24
At the moment I’m staying in an A-frame surrounded by second growth trees in some of the last remaining indigenous forest in Nairobi Kenyas’ environs. A few moments ago there was a large Sykes monkey sitting on the balcony peering at us from the railing. Long tails and a huge hairy brow. They are quite entertaining jumping through the tree tops, chasing each other. The dogs barking their heads off while the monkeys run up and down the vines and trees beside the house teasing them. If we leave a window open for the cats, and bananas on the counter? Bananas gone. Yesterday I was sitting doing my writing and I hear the window moving open, then a face peers under the blind. Cheeky!
It’s a tremendous relief to be away from the instability and potential violence we experienced last month in Bamenda. It was challenging to  focus on anything with random gunshots , tear gas and protests happening. We were already intending to leave, so it seemed appropriate to accelerate our departure since we had a destination and accommodation waiting. Putting out the word to friends and associates we were able to give away and sell  all our furniture and household goods, recovering some of our investment. A bonus really. And all done long before the arranged ride arrived. Floors mopped, bags packed and waiting at the entrance.
It was a bitter sweet departure. We made some good friends in Bafut, some friends were out of the country and others we hadn’t contacted before leaving. The threat of more troops arriving, unknown outcomes and more protests anticipated,  encouraged us to cut short our stay, and move on to our next adventure. One of the German volunteers accompanied us to Dschang where there is a famous museum. The other volunteer was there already staying with a friend and raving about how friendly everyone was. A college town with a lakeside promenade beside the museum, it was quite a contrast.
Then onto Douala by bus. The proprietor of the hotel drove us in the morning to the depot where numerous touts attempted to “assist” us into their company’s bus. I watched them accost a number of arriving women on motorcycles, quite aggressively. The women were not impressed. Eventually we left after a few false starts, entertained by a salesman flogging herbal remedies, standing in the aisle at the front of the bus exhorting everyone to try his samples. After some time he got off and not long later another fellow stepped on and did a repeat performance.
Douala’s a busy place, international seaport and airport, a real cross-roads of cultures. We spent time walking near the hotel, breakfast at a roadside stall every morning, a pizza in the Greek/Lebanese restaurant on our last night. We had a driver from a previous visit and he gave us a tour of the town. Through the port authority; massive warehouses,  lines of waiting workers, stacked containers and seafood restaurants, then the old part of town past impressive architecture, hotels and residences. Lots of very old street trees, mostly mangoes.
 Then into the main market, a more chaotic and crowded place, I’ve never been. Negotiating through intersections spilling over with produce, people and intense smells we inched through, the market itself stretching in all directions beyond sight. Trucks disgorging endless boxes of goods manhandled and hand-trucked back into the market from blocks away where there was somewhere to park. Intense.
In the morning a Christmas parade had us leaving early to avoid the blocked streets, through the airport and onto our plane… practically empty. We managed to score the exit seats, lots of leg room and they cancelled the scheduled stop in Yaounde so we arrived an hour early. The view was clouds the whole way until I saw Lake Victoria!   Our ride arrived after Elke had arranged sim cards so our internet connection is set.