Friday, September 14, 2007
the funny warm-up
I thought the guys were mimicking chopping a tree or knocking down some fruit. It is actually a mocking warm-up in which they do some rhythmic stretching and then at the end of it act out beating the other team.
Sunday, August 05, 2007
Flat tire in the Serengeti…with no tire iron?!?
I highly recommend taking a safari if you are ever in this part of the world. Of course riding over rocky, washboard roads for hours at a time better be a passion if you do choose to go on safari. Luckily I love this type of thing so I enjoyed the hell out of the whole experience.
We started in the Lake Manyara park that is a couple of hours out of Arusha and thankfully over a fairly decent tarmac surface. Here we met a couple from Calgary who are the in-laws of a guy from Cranbrook that I was a year ahead of me in school and a good friend of the Wilson twin’s older brother. We had a short chat with them while Hamisi, our driver, paid our park fees and we were soon on our way.
Hamisi soon blew our minds with his spotting abilities. He was driving through a jungle type environment with over-hanging trees and lush greenery everywhere. All of a sudden he slammed on the brakes and pointed to the treetops a hundred feet in the air, “vulture,” he said matter-of-factly. He told us which tree and we all stared for ages and finally spotted this little bit of grey, sleeping vulture. How he saw this I don’t know. I think it may be a fake that the guides have climbed up and planted there just so they can amaze the tourists with their abilities right off the bat. But he proved himself time and again, so I may be wrong.
We drove deeper into the park and saw blue monkeys right by the roadside and soon came upon a gang of baboons chowing down in a low tree. We stopped to take pictures and observe their behaviours. They were eating a seedpod from the tree that looked similar to a soya been pod only longer and thinner. They chucked a bunch of these onto the roof of the truck and we were afraid, especially because of the rotten smell, that they may also throw – or simply drop – something less clean onto us. When we could no longer stand the smell and the disgusting appearance of the Baboon butts, we moved on to find more animals.
We were soon granted the privilege of viewing the largest land mammals, Elephants. These creatures are amazing to see and watch. We watched them saunter in small groups through the woods and across the road. We were mostly watching females, when all of a sudden an enormous male stirred up some dust and made a terrible noise on the road ahead. He proceeded to chase a smaller male a few hundred meters through the woods, trumpeting and crashing though trees as he went. “Very dangerous!” said Hamisi. We silently agreed, with signs of awe all over our faces. The pictures of the Elephants are great but still do not do justice to their awesome presence.
Soon the woods gave way to open wooded grasslands where the Giraffes appeared. These animals are funny looking as you know and even more so in person. They stood with the beautiful backdrop of lake Manyara and had their pictures taken with grace and poise…hahaha. They were quite geeky looking but fun to watch and we watched for some time. There were twenty or more throughout the day and scatterings of Zebras as well. We were all thrilled to see Zebra as they seemed to be the favorite animal to that point. I myself preferred the Elephants but what do I know.
The day flew by and before we knew it we had to head up to the lodge at the precipice of the Manyara valley. The view from here was breathtaking! Abby loved running on the grass yard as we enjoyed the view and Nik and I enjoyed a beer under a…grass roofed structure while B&B took a swim. We spoke to a couple of guys from South Africa who were in Tanzania on mining business but taking a break for a safari. They were loving their trip and explained a bit about all the mines in Tanzania. There are many diamond mines around the country as well as a few gold mines. They said that the movie Blood Diamonds is not far from the truth throughout Africa. They were interesting if not a bit arrogant. But, we soon finished our beers and headed for the room to relax before dinner.
The meals on the safari are buffet style with a large variety of vittles and desserts to temp those on the most strict of diets. Of course no diet stood in my way and I ate more than I have eaten in the entire time I have been in Tanzania. And boy those pounds added up…oh actually they didn’t!! They came off in small numbers. I came back from 4 days of heavy eating – we’re talkin’ three helpings of main courses, mainly meat, and five to seven desserts with each dinner, 4 sausages, 3 eggs and a heap of bacon for breakfast – and no exercise, with 4-6 less pounds on my butt. More on this later…
From Mayara we started for the Serengeti via the rim of Ngorogoro crater. This was a good drive on tarmac up to the gates of Ngorogoro park. We then continued along a breathtaking mountain road through a dense jungle with some nice views back toward Lake Manyara. We passed a rare accident along the way between a large truck and a safari vehicle. It appeared that the larger vehicle had been in the wrong place around a tight, blind corner and ran the safari vehicle into the trees. This is a very bad thing in the parks and each vehicle would be levied a fine for the accident. The fine is not much, about $200, but here that is a lot of money. There are other fines in the parks; $50 for driving off road, $50 for not getting out of the park on time, $20 for driving on the wrong side of the road, $20 for feeding grass to a carnivore and $500 for taking a compromising picture of a philandering elephant.
We reached the top of the crater rim at around 10AM and quickly snapped some pictures before heading down the other side of the crater and into the Serengeti. We passed some amazing scenery along the way including rolling plains, Masai villages and wandering herds. By the time we reached the main gate to the Serengeti we were hungry and while Hamisi paid our park fees we hunted down a table under the Acacia trees. The starlings were as hungry as us even though they appeared full and showed us this by crapping on me, Bob and Betty. So this started our Serengeti experience shitty way but we remained optimistic, finished eating, changed our clothes and mounted the cruiser and were on our way.
The Serengeti is the Africa that I think of, or thought of in Canada; flat, grassy plains with the odd acacia tree and Gazelle bouncing around. I know there were also a few Cheetah hiding in the grass but at this point we hadn’t seen any. What we did find along the long road was a flat front tire. I asked Hamisi if he needed any help and he surprisingly accepted. Bob and I jumped to his side in the park, where no one is aloud out of the vehicle. We quickly found that there was no Tire Iron (spanner) in the vehicle and set to removing the spare with a well-worn 21MM box wrench. Bob and I managed to push Hamisi out of the way and figured out the best way to make this worn out tool work. Hamisi removed the jack from the rear of the Cruiser and set it up under the bush bumper. He took the water bottle that had been sitting on the bumper the entire trip and lubricated the jack with the water inside. We began to attempt to remove the wheel nuts with the box-end wrench but didn’t get far before another safari vehicle stopped to see if we needed help. The driver quickly produced a tire iron and we set to work. We had the spare ready to go on in short order and I lifted it into place and gave it a good push. This nearly took the truck off the jack and everyone screamed at me. I chuckled inside at my good luck (it didn’t fall). We cranked it on and returned the tire iron to the other driver. I thanked him and he said, “you may be coming to my aid in twenty minutes, Hamna Shida!” The funny thing is, we didn’t think too much about the hiding Cheetah or Lions and they thankfully didn’t think too much of us.
We started in the Lake Manyara park that is a couple of hours out of Arusha and thankfully over a fairly decent tarmac surface. Here we met a couple from Calgary who are the in-laws of a guy from Cranbrook that I was a year ahead of me in school and a good friend of the Wilson twin’s older brother. We had a short chat with them while Hamisi, our driver, paid our park fees and we were soon on our way.
Hamisi soon blew our minds with his spotting abilities. He was driving through a jungle type environment with over-hanging trees and lush greenery everywhere. All of a sudden he slammed on the brakes and pointed to the treetops a hundred feet in the air, “vulture,” he said matter-of-factly. He told us which tree and we all stared for ages and finally spotted this little bit of grey, sleeping vulture. How he saw this I don’t know. I think it may be a fake that the guides have climbed up and planted there just so they can amaze the tourists with their abilities right off the bat. But he proved himself time and again, so I may be wrong.
We drove deeper into the park and saw blue monkeys right by the roadside and soon came upon a gang of baboons chowing down in a low tree. We stopped to take pictures and observe their behaviours. They were eating a seedpod from the tree that looked similar to a soya been pod only longer and thinner. They chucked a bunch of these onto the roof of the truck and we were afraid, especially because of the rotten smell, that they may also throw – or simply drop – something less clean onto us. When we could no longer stand the smell and the disgusting appearance of the Baboon butts, we moved on to find more animals.
We were soon granted the privilege of viewing the largest land mammals, Elephants. These creatures are amazing to see and watch. We watched them saunter in small groups through the woods and across the road. We were mostly watching females, when all of a sudden an enormous male stirred up some dust and made a terrible noise on the road ahead. He proceeded to chase a smaller male a few hundred meters through the woods, trumpeting and crashing though trees as he went. “Very dangerous!” said Hamisi. We silently agreed, with signs of awe all over our faces. The pictures of the Elephants are great but still do not do justice to their awesome presence.
Soon the woods gave way to open wooded grasslands where the Giraffes appeared. These animals are funny looking as you know and even more so in person. They stood with the beautiful backdrop of lake Manyara and had their pictures taken with grace and poise…hahaha. They were quite geeky looking but fun to watch and we watched for some time. There were twenty or more throughout the day and scatterings of Zebras as well. We were all thrilled to see Zebra as they seemed to be the favorite animal to that point. I myself preferred the Elephants but what do I know.
The day flew by and before we knew it we had to head up to the lodge at the precipice of the Manyara valley. The view from here was breathtaking! Abby loved running on the grass yard as we enjoyed the view and Nik and I enjoyed a beer under a…grass roofed structure while B&B took a swim. We spoke to a couple of guys from South Africa who were in Tanzania on mining business but taking a break for a safari. They were loving their trip and explained a bit about all the mines in Tanzania. There are many diamond mines around the country as well as a few gold mines. They said that the movie Blood Diamonds is not far from the truth throughout Africa. They were interesting if not a bit arrogant. But, we soon finished our beers and headed for the room to relax before dinner.The meals on the safari are buffet style with a large variety of vittles and desserts to temp those on the most strict of diets. Of course no diet stood in my way and I ate more than I have eaten in the entire time I have been in Tanzania. And boy those pounds added up…oh actually they didn’t!! They came off in small numbers. I came back from 4 days of heavy eating – we’re talkin’ three helpings of main courses, mainly meat, and five to seven desserts with each dinner, 4 sausages, 3 eggs and a heap of bacon for breakfast – and no exercise, with 4-6 less pounds on my butt. More on this later…
From Mayara we started for the Serengeti via the rim of Ngorogoro crater. This was a good drive on tarmac up to the gates of Ngorogoro park. We then continued along a breathtaking mountain road through a dense jungle with some nice views back toward Lake Manyara. We passed a rare accident along the way between a large truck and a safari vehicle. It appeared that the larger vehicle had been in the wrong place around a tight, blind corner and ran the safari vehicle into the trees. This is a very bad thing in the parks and each vehicle would be levied a fine for the accident. The fine is not much, about $200, but here that is a lot of money. There are other fines in the parks; $50 for driving off road, $50 for not getting out of the park on time, $20 for driving on the wrong side of the road, $20 for feeding grass to a carnivore and $500 for taking a compromising picture of a philandering elephant.
We reached the top of the crater rim at around 10AM and quickly snapped some pictures before heading down the other side of the crater and into the Serengeti. We passed some amazing scenery along the way including rolling plains, Masai villages and wandering herds. By the time we reached the main gate to the Serengeti we were hungry and while Hamisi paid our park fees we hunted down a table under the Acacia trees. The starlings were as hungry as us even though they appeared full and showed us this by crapping on me, Bob and Betty. So this started our Serengeti experience shitty way but we remained optimistic, finished eating, changed our clothes and mounted the cruiser and were on our way.
The Serengeti is the Africa that I think of, or thought of in Canada; flat, grassy plains with the odd acacia tree and Gazelle bouncing around. I know there were also a few Cheetah hiding in the grass but at this point we hadn’t seen any. What we did find along the long road was a flat front tire. I asked Hamisi if he needed any help and he surprisingly accepted. Bob and I jumped to his side in the park, where no one is aloud out of the vehicle. We quickly found that there was no Tire Iron (spanner) in the vehicle and set to removing the spare with a well-worn 21MM box wrench. Bob and I managed to push Hamisi out of the way and figured out the best way to make this worn out tool work. Hamisi removed the jack from the rear of the Cruiser and set it up under the bush bumper. He took the water bottle that had been sitting on the bumper the entire trip and lubricated the jack with the water inside. We began to attempt to remove the wheel nuts with the box-end wrench but didn’t get far before another safari vehicle stopped to see if we needed help. The driver quickly produced a tire iron and we set to work. We had the spare ready to go on in short order and I lifted it into place and gave it a good push. This nearly took the truck off the jack and everyone screamed at me. I chuckled inside at my good luck (it didn’t fall). We cranked it on and returned the tire iron to the other driver. I thanked him and he said, “you may be coming to my aid in twenty minutes, Hamna Shida!” The funny thing is, we didn’t think too much about the hiding Cheetah or Lions and they thankfully didn’t think too much of us.
Thursday, August 02, 2007
Why we don’t stay in local Guesthouses
So we came to Arusha yesterday with B&B and our friends George and Adam. George and Adam were staying in a local guesthouse, while the rest of us were at the Outpost, a mid-level hotel in a nice neighbourhood. This is, by local standards, quite expensive, but at the low end of the spectrum of acceptable accommodations by western standards. It has TV, a pool, a decent restaurant and clean, good-sized rooms. Also, I guess I should mention that there is a hot water in the rooms and a good shower, oh and mosquito nets. The guesthouse has a bed in the room and I suppose a light. No mosquito net and no bathroom.
So anyway on to the real reason we stay in a hotel. George and Adam came by today to say goodbye to B&B, who flew out today. They had a great story of their night at the guesty. At 5 AM Adam awoke to loud noises outside the room. He woke George, “Georgey, Georgey wake up!” he cried. “What do you think all that noise is?” It turned out that two men had been robbed in the guesthouse. Their cell phone and 520,000 shillings in Zambian funds were no longer in their possession. So, what would you think would happen in such a situation? Think for a moment how you would react in a small Super 8 Motel if you heard that someone had been robbed. HMMM.
I suspect whatever you are thinking is not what happened in this situation. The guests of the guesty formed a little gang and searched all of the rooms. When nothing was found they searched outside, thinking that the culprit would now he was caught and maybe throw the items out the window. After finding the phone, without the SIM card (the chip from a cell phone) they went to the room above the window. In this room, the occupant of which drive a new car had a good job and had in his possession the large sum of over 800,000 Tz Shillings, the mob found a SIM under the bed and upon further searching by the 20 or more people, the missing money. The mob confirmed that the SIM card was from the missing phone decided that the man in the room was the thief. Two of the men in the gang (who stayed in different rooms) roughed the guy up a fair bit. After the beating they took the stolen money, the cell phone and all of the guy’s money and walked out of the room. The crowd figured they were off to call the police. However when the two guys did not return and the police did not come it became clear that it was a scam.
The two guys picked someone who appeared rich, devised a plan to set him up with a weary mob, and pounced quickly and left even quicker. A sad story but it is reality. You won’t see that on Survivor.
So anyway on to the real reason we stay in a hotel. George and Adam came by today to say goodbye to B&B, who flew out today. They had a great story of their night at the guesty. At 5 AM Adam awoke to loud noises outside the room. He woke George, “Georgey, Georgey wake up!” he cried. “What do you think all that noise is?” It turned out that two men had been robbed in the guesthouse. Their cell phone and 520,000 shillings in Zambian funds were no longer in their possession. So, what would you think would happen in such a situation? Think for a moment how you would react in a small Super 8 Motel if you heard that someone had been robbed. HMMM.
I suspect whatever you are thinking is not what happened in this situation. The guests of the guesty formed a little gang and searched all of the rooms. When nothing was found they searched outside, thinking that the culprit would now he was caught and maybe throw the items out the window. After finding the phone, without the SIM card (the chip from a cell phone) they went to the room above the window. In this room, the occupant of which drive a new car had a good job and had in his possession the large sum of over 800,000 Tz Shillings, the mob found a SIM under the bed and upon further searching by the 20 or more people, the missing money. The mob confirmed that the SIM card was from the missing phone decided that the man in the room was the thief. Two of the men in the gang (who stayed in different rooms) roughed the guy up a fair bit. After the beating they took the stolen money, the cell phone and all of the guy’s money and walked out of the room. The crowd figured they were off to call the police. However when the two guys did not return and the police did not come it became clear that it was a scam.
The two guys picked someone who appeared rich, devised a plan to set him up with a weary mob, and pounced quickly and left even quicker. A sad story but it is reality. You won’t see that on Survivor.
Thursday, July 19, 2007
Shida Kubwa (Big Problem)
Football has been going pretty slowly lately because myself and George (my translator and team Manager) have been away, but this week our friends from Victoria have arrived with “stuff” for the team. They were able to bring jerseys, shoes and practice cones to help the team out. The jerseys for the Haydom Stars team are awesome, and they also brought a second set that we gave to the local Dr. Olsen Secondary School team. We arranged the presentation of the jerseys to coincide with a “friend match” held yesterday at our field.
Patricia, Malcolm and Patricia’s mother Mary came with Nicole, Abby, Francis and I in Francis’ truck to the secondary school only to be told it would be better to give them at the field. So we drove back too the field and, with a small ceremony, gave out the jerseys. It was very nice and we got some great pictures of smiling faces and a happy teacher. Then I gave the jerseys to my team who responded with smiles and very loud clapping. I was happy to give our Canadian friends the opportunity to see the players so appreciative of their hard work in rounding up the jerseys, etc.
As I had decided that this would be a good opportunity for me to play in a match (friend match and new jerseys and all) I suited up in number 13 and took the field with my guys. This may have been a mistake, as I hadn’t played Football in 32 years. – Wow that feels odd to say – I ran my butt off, not that I have one anymore anyway, and had some fun. I made a couple of passes and missed a perfect chance to score due to my lack of timing in this sport. The fun was great but my lack of endurance quickly tired me out and I had to signal to the players on the sideline to sub me out after only about 30 minutes. I suspect my team was pleased with the decision but disappointed that I could not keep up. I would guess that they could all play full out for 3 – 4 hours. But I’m not in that kind of shape…yet.
The game progressed nicely with a trading of great saves and a pair of goals each over the next 45 minutes. The pleasantness of the match turned suddenly with about 5 minutes to go. We had the ball within about 10 feet of their goal when one of their players attempted to clear it out. Due to the poor state of the surface the ball bounced not to his foot, but between his legs and made contact with his hand. The ref (who incidentally is a member of my team) blew the whistle and declared a free kick from the spot of the touch. As you can imagine this was a good call but if this were the last two minutes of a hockey game, with the score tied at 2, the ref would have put his whistle in his pocket and thought, ‘what the hell, let them play.’ This was not the case and the 100+ students in attendance stormed the field. The ref took little notice and placed the ball on the spot that he had determined for the free kick. This raised the emotions of the students and they booted the ball about 100 yards off the field into the toolies. Then the yelling began, as some young kids retrieved the ball.
I was at midfield and watching the students charge from all around the pitch and had to decide my next action. The thoughts running through my head ranged from hands off to getting right in the middle. It wasn’t long before the ball was back in the field and placed again on the spot and again kicked away. This seemed to intensify the aggression and I watched as a couple of my players were absorbed into the melee instigated by the large number of students. During this I found myself moving toward the crowd, uncertain of what exactly I should be doing. The thoughts in my head ranged from the absolute unknown to grabbing my players and getting them away from the situation. I chose this tack and with the skills learned from watching hockey linesmen like Darrel Penner and John Mcaully (sp) in Cranbrook used the linemen tackle and escorted two of my larger more passionate players out of a potentially explosive situation. I also tried, in English to tell the ref to call the game at that point, but he was intent on using his implied authority to stand by his call. But he eventually gave in and gave the ball to the secondary school team.
What ensued was two minutes of the roughest Football I have seen to date ending in further shouting matches and near fights. I again entered the field and tried to move my players to the sideline, away from the other team. This was unsuccessful as they followed, backed by their peers. Once all of my players were gathered at the side of the field and we were virtually surrounded by the opposition I asked the coach to please move his team away so the shouting and taunting would stop. He seemed oblivious to the potential for disaster and did absolutely nothing but nod his head. I felt obliged to diffuse the situation, and in English explained that this was a friend match, that we were to be friends with each other and that it was poor sportsmanship to act like this. I then, with the emotions overflowing in me, said that this was a shida kubwa (big problem). This caused a great round of laughter from the crowd and further lowered my spirit. However, today I found out that they laughed because none of the people at the match expected me to speak Swahili.
This has been one of, if not the most difficult situation I have had to deal with here. The language barrier made it impossible to know what my team was trying to do on the field and also made it impossible for me to communicate the problem. However, I have learned that my players were trying to tell the other team that this was poor sportsmanship and that they should respect the authority of the ref. I also know now that it is water under the bridge for the school team and that we will all get together again for friendly games and that some of my players may at some point in the future dawn the school uniforms if they are short of players for a match against another village or school.
Culture is tough to break into and harder to understand sometimes.
Patricia, Malcolm and Patricia’s mother Mary came with Nicole, Abby, Francis and I in Francis’ truck to the secondary school only to be told it would be better to give them at the field. So we drove back too the field and, with a small ceremony, gave out the jerseys. It was very nice and we got some great pictures of smiling faces and a happy teacher. Then I gave the jerseys to my team who responded with smiles and very loud clapping. I was happy to give our Canadian friends the opportunity to see the players so appreciative of their hard work in rounding up the jerseys, etc.
As I had decided that this would be a good opportunity for me to play in a match (friend match and new jerseys and all) I suited up in number 13 and took the field with my guys. This may have been a mistake, as I hadn’t played Football in 32 years. – Wow that feels odd to say – I ran my butt off, not that I have one anymore anyway, and had some fun. I made a couple of passes and missed a perfect chance to score due to my lack of timing in this sport. The fun was great but my lack of endurance quickly tired me out and I had to signal to the players on the sideline to sub me out after only about 30 minutes. I suspect my team was pleased with the decision but disappointed that I could not keep up. I would guess that they could all play full out for 3 – 4 hours. But I’m not in that kind of shape…yet.
The game progressed nicely with a trading of great saves and a pair of goals each over the next 45 minutes. The pleasantness of the match turned suddenly with about 5 minutes to go. We had the ball within about 10 feet of their goal when one of their players attempted to clear it out. Due to the poor state of the surface the ball bounced not to his foot, but between his legs and made contact with his hand. The ref (who incidentally is a member of my team) blew the whistle and declared a free kick from the spot of the touch. As you can imagine this was a good call but if this were the last two minutes of a hockey game, with the score tied at 2, the ref would have put his whistle in his pocket and thought, ‘what the hell, let them play.’ This was not the case and the 100+ students in attendance stormed the field. The ref took little notice and placed the ball on the spot that he had determined for the free kick. This raised the emotions of the students and they booted the ball about 100 yards off the field into the toolies. Then the yelling began, as some young kids retrieved the ball.
I was at midfield and watching the students charge from all around the pitch and had to decide my next action. The thoughts running through my head ranged from hands off to getting right in the middle. It wasn’t long before the ball was back in the field and placed again on the spot and again kicked away. This seemed to intensify the aggression and I watched as a couple of my players were absorbed into the melee instigated by the large number of students. During this I found myself moving toward the crowd, uncertain of what exactly I should be doing. The thoughts in my head ranged from the absolute unknown to grabbing my players and getting them away from the situation. I chose this tack and with the skills learned from watching hockey linesmen like Darrel Penner and John Mcaully (sp) in Cranbrook used the linemen tackle and escorted two of my larger more passionate players out of a potentially explosive situation. I also tried, in English to tell the ref to call the game at that point, but he was intent on using his implied authority to stand by his call. But he eventually gave in and gave the ball to the secondary school team.
What ensued was two minutes of the roughest Football I have seen to date ending in further shouting matches and near fights. I again entered the field and tried to move my players to the sideline, away from the other team. This was unsuccessful as they followed, backed by their peers. Once all of my players were gathered at the side of the field and we were virtually surrounded by the opposition I asked the coach to please move his team away so the shouting and taunting would stop. He seemed oblivious to the potential for disaster and did absolutely nothing but nod his head. I felt obliged to diffuse the situation, and in English explained that this was a friend match, that we were to be friends with each other and that it was poor sportsmanship to act like this. I then, with the emotions overflowing in me, said that this was a shida kubwa (big problem). This caused a great round of laughter from the crowd and further lowered my spirit. However, today I found out that they laughed because none of the people at the match expected me to speak Swahili.
This has been one of, if not the most difficult situation I have had to deal with here. The language barrier made it impossible to know what my team was trying to do on the field and also made it impossible for me to communicate the problem. However, I have learned that my players were trying to tell the other team that this was poor sportsmanship and that they should respect the authority of the ref. I also know now that it is water under the bridge for the school team and that we will all get together again for friendly games and that some of my players may at some point in the future dawn the school uniforms if they are short of players for a match against another village or school.
Culture is tough to break into and harder to understand sometimes.
Friday, July 13, 2007
I think it’s a funk?!?
What’s a funk? The MS dictionary says it is a noun and has something to do with music;
funk n
1. a type of popular music that derives from jazz, blues, and soul and is characterized by a heavy rhythmic bass and backbeat
2. a rhythmic earthy quality in music (slang)
I say it is when one is out of their ordinary state of mind. This is me right now. I can’t seem to put meaningful humorous words on the proverbial page. Hence, the blog has suffered. I want to say what’s going on, and as the world is still turning things are happening. Something happened yesterday and there will be activity happening tomorrow, I’m sure. But, as mind funk has a hold, I don’t know if I will or can write about any of it.
Why the funk you may say? Could be the ameba that I recently eradicated from my bowels…too much info?? Or, it could be the busy nature of work right now…I doubt it. Could be no football matches lately…Hmm. I’m not sure.
How to get out of a funk? I could run up a mountain, Ok that’s scheduled for Saturday. I could try something else, but being as I am in a funk, I can’t think of it…
If you have ever been in a funk, or know someone who has been, and have a method of escaping said funk, let me know.
Thanks,
Chad
funk n
1. a type of popular music that derives from jazz, blues, and soul and is characterized by a heavy rhythmic bass and backbeat
2. a rhythmic earthy quality in music (slang)
I say it is when one is out of their ordinary state of mind. This is me right now. I can’t seem to put meaningful humorous words on the proverbial page. Hence, the blog has suffered. I want to say what’s going on, and as the world is still turning things are happening. Something happened yesterday and there will be activity happening tomorrow, I’m sure. But, as mind funk has a hold, I don’t know if I will or can write about any of it.
Why the funk you may say? Could be the ameba that I recently eradicated from my bowels…too much info?? Or, it could be the busy nature of work right now…I doubt it. Could be no football matches lately…Hmm. I’m not sure.
How to get out of a funk? I could run up a mountain, Ok that’s scheduled for Saturday. I could try something else, but being as I am in a funk, I can’t think of it…
If you have ever been in a funk, or know someone who has been, and have a method of escaping said funk, let me know.
Thanks,
Chad
Friday, June 29, 2007
Arusha Moments
Lunch at Stiggy Bucks…I’m not sure what they mean by buck and what the hell does a Stiggy Buck look like. Anyhow this is a nice little coffee bar / restaurant with a menu of small delights. The best I have had is the Avocado salad. This is an avocado, cut in half and stuffed with diced tomato and onion in a superb vinaigrette served on a bed of shredded lettuce. Now in Canada this would be common fare, but here the avocados are twice the size as at home and after three months of plain, small town Tanzania food, this was amazing. Nicole had a BLT and after having only T for three months the crisp bacon and lettuce are a very, very, very welcome taste and texture!
Ok on to the moment. We were sitting in Stiggy Bucks having our milkshake (oh ya these were amazing as well) a very slick guy with captain’s strips on his khaki shirt and short safari shorts sat down at the next table with a latte or some other coffee drink. He soon was on his cell phone speaking loudly, “this is Humphrey blah blah blah calling, did the mail bag get on the plane?” “No, no!! are you joking?” It was obvious that this was a huge issue and he carried on with this confused anxiousness for a while and then went directly into irate British mode. He yelled at a number of different people trying to get the all important mailbag from Kilimanjaro to Arusha. There were cheques in the bag after all so it had to get to Arusha right away. It was so amusing that we just sat there listening to his struggle with the locals while he sweated in his little captain’s shirt. I wondered why, with all of his apparent authority, he didn’t simply jump in a plane and fly it here himself.
Moment two.
The night we arrived at the Outpost I needed to grab a couple more towels so we would each have one in the morning. I went up to the bar, the only place where a hotel employee was at this time of night. There were a couple of rude Americans from Las Vegas tying one on sitting at the bar. I assume they were irritating the friendly waiter/bartender. I exchanged hellos with them and when we were done a woman approached and said to the employee, “my girls walked in the bathroom with their shoes on and the floor is very dirty now.” Long pause…this got a really blank stare from the employee.
“Could I have something to wipe it up with?” she continued.
Another blank stare…
“I would do it myself, all I need is a towel or something.”
“It’s a big room isn’t it?” the employee asked still with a blank stare and a sweeping gesture.
“uh, yes?” the woman replied.
“Well, the bathroom is separate isn’t it” he said.
“I don’t know where your going with this but yes it is.” Came the confused response.
“There’s a door isn’t there that you can close?” he asked just as confused as she was.
“Yes, but I would be willing to clean it up myself.”
“But if you close the door…what’s the problem?” he said with the gesture of closing the door.
“umm ahh??? I’d wipe it up…I mean me, I would do it myself.” She said dumbfounded.
“Can you live with it till the morning?”
“I suppose I could.” She said with an even more confused look.
“Ok that’s fine then because the laundry doesn’t open until the morning.”
“Uh, umm, uhh…OK…Thanks.” She said and turned and left.
I asked for my towels and as the employee smiled and went to get them, the Las Vegasians said, “don’t you have a knife? You could just cut one it three pieces, where’s the problem?”
Moment three.
I had to go to a cell phone shop to get phones for Jeremiah, Emma Stella’s Husband and one for Nicole. Frances and Tore recommended a little shop on a side street and we found it with no problem, the nearest landmark was the Meat King store a couple of doors down so we had no trouble. The store is run by an ex-pat from India who seemed friendly but very direct. There were about 8 people at the counter of the small shop, all pointing at phones in the display case and asking prices etc. I walked up to the assistant, a quiet local guy who seemed very bored. As soon as I said I needed three phones the boss came right over. As he did the others in the store called me what I thought was, ”sungu sungu” (ant) which is very close to Mzungu (white person). So I said to the shop keeper, “did they just call me an ant.” He chuckled for a second, and said, “no, no, These are Masaai and you will never find a more loyal, respectful or kind people anywhere in the world, but they are not very good with the words.” I found this backhanded comment to be rather disrespectful.
I found out later that they had been calling my white person but got the word wrong and when they said, ”zungu zungu” they were calling me “dizzy.” Hmm, perhaps they are good with the words and noticed that my head was spinning a bit from all the shopping we had done.
Ok on to the moment. We were sitting in Stiggy Bucks having our milkshake (oh ya these were amazing as well) a very slick guy with captain’s strips on his khaki shirt and short safari shorts sat down at the next table with a latte or some other coffee drink. He soon was on his cell phone speaking loudly, “this is Humphrey blah blah blah calling, did the mail bag get on the plane?” “No, no!! are you joking?” It was obvious that this was a huge issue and he carried on with this confused anxiousness for a while and then went directly into irate British mode. He yelled at a number of different people trying to get the all important mailbag from Kilimanjaro to Arusha. There were cheques in the bag after all so it had to get to Arusha right away. It was so amusing that we just sat there listening to his struggle with the locals while he sweated in his little captain’s shirt. I wondered why, with all of his apparent authority, he didn’t simply jump in a plane and fly it here himself.
Moment two.
The night we arrived at the Outpost I needed to grab a couple more towels so we would each have one in the morning. I went up to the bar, the only place where a hotel employee was at this time of night. There were a couple of rude Americans from Las Vegas tying one on sitting at the bar. I assume they were irritating the friendly waiter/bartender. I exchanged hellos with them and when we were done a woman approached and said to the employee, “my girls walked in the bathroom with their shoes on and the floor is very dirty now.” Long pause…this got a really blank stare from the employee.
“Could I have something to wipe it up with?” she continued.
Another blank stare…
“I would do it myself, all I need is a towel or something.”
“It’s a big room isn’t it?” the employee asked still with a blank stare and a sweeping gesture.
“uh, yes?” the woman replied.
“Well, the bathroom is separate isn’t it” he said.
“I don’t know where your going with this but yes it is.” Came the confused response.
“There’s a door isn’t there that you can close?” he asked just as confused as she was.
“Yes, but I would be willing to clean it up myself.”
“But if you close the door…what’s the problem?” he said with the gesture of closing the door.
“umm ahh??? I’d wipe it up…I mean me, I would do it myself.” She said dumbfounded.
“Can you live with it till the morning?”
“I suppose I could.” She said with an even more confused look.
“Ok that’s fine then because the laundry doesn’t open until the morning.”
“Uh, umm, uhh…OK…Thanks.” She said and turned and left.
I asked for my towels and as the employee smiled and went to get them, the Las Vegasians said, “don’t you have a knife? You could just cut one it three pieces, where’s the problem?”
Moment three.
I had to go to a cell phone shop to get phones for Jeremiah, Emma Stella’s Husband and one for Nicole. Frances and Tore recommended a little shop on a side street and we found it with no problem, the nearest landmark was the Meat King store a couple of doors down so we had no trouble. The store is run by an ex-pat from India who seemed friendly but very direct. There were about 8 people at the counter of the small shop, all pointing at phones in the display case and asking prices etc. I walked up to the assistant, a quiet local guy who seemed very bored. As soon as I said I needed three phones the boss came right over. As he did the others in the store called me what I thought was, ”sungu sungu” (ant) which is very close to Mzungu (white person). So I said to the shop keeper, “did they just call me an ant.” He chuckled for a second, and said, “no, no, These are Masaai and you will never find a more loyal, respectful or kind people anywhere in the world, but they are not very good with the words.” I found this backhanded comment to be rather disrespectful.
I found out later that they had been calling my white person but got the word wrong and when they said, ”zungu zungu” they were calling me “dizzy.” Hmm, perhaps they are good with the words and noticed that my head was spinning a bit from all the shopping we had done.
Wednesday, June 27, 2007
Road to Arusha (part 2) the continuing saga
On the next ridge the silhouette of a single home right at the crest broke the curves of the trees. I can’t come up with the words to explain how peaceful and astonishing the view was. We took it all in, but the glorious sights provided a sensory overload. How I drove through this with my eyes on the track in front of us, is any one’s guess.
We were into our descent now and I had to stay sharp, as there was really no room for error. I rarely left first gear as we crawled down the track. As we entered the tree line we were swallowed by the jungle; the green, the dark and the smell. The aroma of the jungle reminded me of home; in the mountains after a rain, that clean smell of vegetation. It was wonderfull.
After descending the Mgara we came out onto a flat jungle area and passed through a small village set among a stand of ancient trees which formed high canopy. Here we stopped briefly and took some pictures of nesting herons high above the truck. The locals peered at us from a hoteli with friendly eyes, but we were still on a schedule and could not stop for Chipsi Mayai, which would have gone down nicely.
The road out of the village was mostly good and in a few instances I got out of 4th gear though only for brief bursts between the big bumps. We soon reached our first river crossing. Jeanine’s advice was to follow the guy on the bike through as he would stick to the shallowest water. But he had the idea to follow the truck through and was waiting for us. So we asked a couple of guys who were sitting at the banks who told us - in Swahili – one for one, which loosely translates to one way. We took this to mean straight through and I we rolled up the windows and plunged into the water. It was smooth and 2-3 feet deep so we made it through with no problems. However, I broke a cardinal rule of water crossing, that only I noticed, I shifted mid-stream. I don’t remember who told me this rule and I can’t imagine who it was as I don’t remember traversing many rivers in a truck but I know it’s a rule. Oh well, we made it and it wasn’t the only crossing. The next one had a very rough entry and a steep bank on the far side. I chose my path and we entered the water. This one was a bit deeper but no less easy to cross, I gunned it up the far bank and we were on our way again.
As we continued through the wasteland toward the main road, our track got better and better. I hit a couple of large bumps at high speed but the Land Cruiser was up for the task and we passed by dry wooded grassland. Here we saw a few Vervet Monkeys and a couple of Dik Diks. We were happy to see some wildlife, took some pictures and carried on.
We finally turned onto the main road, which means it is busy and wide. The road was not particularly good with thick gravel and a deep washboard surface. Despite this we were able to get 80Kph out of the Cruiser and started to make up some time. Whenever a vehicle passed the dust was blinding but the light breeze dissipated it quickly and we were able to get back up to speed. After about an hour we reached the tarmac road just as darkness fell. At the point where the gravel turned to asphalt the Polisi were just setting up the nightly roadblock. We slowed but as Jeanine encouraged I kept on through with no problem.
The tarmac was fairly broken in the first few kilometers but we pushed it a bit and were soon on the smoothest surface we had seen in months. We cruised past massai herd and homes at 100Kph hitting deep potholes that jumped up out of dusks dim light. The lights had little effect as the darkness set in, as they were probably bounced out of alignment from our earlier thrashing about. Thankfully we were soon in complete darkness and the lights cast their beams on the road in front of us. Well at least the passenger’s side light did; the driver’s side light was shining into the oncoming lane lighting up the driver of each vehicle. This made for a tough time as they approaching car would flash its high beams in my eyes rendering us blind for a few seconds. Confidence was low in the Cruiser at these moments and we slowed down a bit to keep from careening off the road. A good choice, I’m sure you agree!!
To the south we noticed a wild fire burning in a line a few Kilometers long. It was not a pleasant site in itself but it had turned the sun red just before it set and Nik was able to get a couple of nice pictures of it before it sank.
It wasn’t long before we pulled into the swank Coffee Lodge parking lot for our anniversary dinner.
We were into our descent now and I had to stay sharp, as there was really no room for error. I rarely left first gear as we crawled down the track. As we entered the tree line we were swallowed by the jungle; the green, the dark and the smell. The aroma of the jungle reminded me of home; in the mountains after a rain, that clean smell of vegetation. It was wonderfull.
After descending the Mgara we came out onto a flat jungle area and passed through a small village set among a stand of ancient trees which formed high canopy. Here we stopped briefly and took some pictures of nesting herons high above the truck. The locals peered at us from a hoteli with friendly eyes, but we were still on a schedule and could not stop for Chipsi Mayai, which would have gone down nicely.
The road out of the village was mostly good and in a few instances I got out of 4th gear though only for brief bursts between the big bumps. We soon reached our first river crossing. Jeanine’s advice was to follow the guy on the bike through as he would stick to the shallowest water. But he had the idea to follow the truck through and was waiting for us. So we asked a couple of guys who were sitting at the banks who told us - in Swahili – one for one, which loosely translates to one way. We took this to mean straight through and I we rolled up the windows and plunged into the water. It was smooth and 2-3 feet deep so we made it through with no problems. However, I broke a cardinal rule of water crossing, that only I noticed, I shifted mid-stream. I don’t remember who told me this rule and I can’t imagine who it was as I don’t remember traversing many rivers in a truck but I know it’s a rule. Oh well, we made it and it wasn’t the only crossing. The next one had a very rough entry and a steep bank on the far side. I chose my path and we entered the water. This one was a bit deeper but no less easy to cross, I gunned it up the far bank and we were on our way again.
As we continued through the wasteland toward the main road, our track got better and better. I hit a couple of large bumps at high speed but the Land Cruiser was up for the task and we passed by dry wooded grassland. Here we saw a few Vervet Monkeys and a couple of Dik Diks. We were happy to see some wildlife, took some pictures and carried on.
We finally turned onto the main road, which means it is busy and wide. The road was not particularly good with thick gravel and a deep washboard surface. Despite this we were able to get 80Kph out of the Cruiser and started to make up some time. Whenever a vehicle passed the dust was blinding but the light breeze dissipated it quickly and we were able to get back up to speed. After about an hour we reached the tarmac road just as darkness fell. At the point where the gravel turned to asphalt the Polisi were just setting up the nightly roadblock. We slowed but as Jeanine encouraged I kept on through with no problem.
The tarmac was fairly broken in the first few kilometers but we pushed it a bit and were soon on the smoothest surface we had seen in months. We cruised past massai herd and homes at 100Kph hitting deep potholes that jumped up out of dusks dim light. The lights had little effect as the darkness set in, as they were probably bounced out of alignment from our earlier thrashing about. Thankfully we were soon in complete darkness and the lights cast their beams on the road in front of us. Well at least the passenger’s side light did; the driver’s side light was shining into the oncoming lane lighting up the driver of each vehicle. This made for a tough time as they approaching car would flash its high beams in my eyes rendering us blind for a few seconds. Confidence was low in the Cruiser at these moments and we slowed down a bit to keep from careening off the road. A good choice, I’m sure you agree!!
To the south we noticed a wild fire burning in a line a few Kilometers long. It was not a pleasant site in itself but it had turned the sun red just before it set and Nik was able to get a couple of nice pictures of it before it sank.
It wasn’t long before we pulled into the swank Coffee Lodge parking lot for our anniversary dinner.
Monday, June 25, 2007
The “Road” to Arusha (call it part one)
We set out earlier than expected, as Jeanine was able to get away at 12:30. So, after a quick lunch we hit the road at 1:20. Jeanine drove with Nik as co-pilot and iPod jockey; Abby and I were in back with Maggie, a friend of Emma Stella. We were first heading through Mbulu, where we would drop Maggie off for a weekend with friends, 2 hours away. The road would then take us through the Mgara and drop into the Lake Manyara region and on to Arusha. The whole trip should take about 6.5 hours.
The views were great and the road was mainly smooth, which made Jeanine laugh out loud from time to time. That is not to say we weren’t jostled around a bit, because we were. Every now and then we bounced high off our seats, but this kept us awake and made for a fun ride.
For the final stretch into Mbulu we took a route Jeanine hadn’t driven before and we were not particularly happy with this choice. The road was very rough and caused us to slow down and Jeanine had to shift constantly between 2nd and 3rd. The final descent into town was nice, with the aroma of Eucalyptus wafting through the Cruiser from the mild breeze blowing the fragrance from the huge stand of Eucalyptus trees straddling the road. We stopped beside a river on the edge of town and broke out cold sodas and drake them down while absorbing the culture of the town. The hustle and bustle was like a big city but the people were as friendly as any we had come across. We said our goodbyes to Maggie and mounted us with me at the wheel for the next stretch of our journey.
As I sit here on the veranda of our room at the Outpost in Arusha, listening to our German or Norwegian neighbours banter in the native tongue, the trip of only yesterday seems a distant memory. I suspect this is due to the surreal beauty of the scenery we passed along the way. I’ll try to continue with some concentration.
We drove through the orderly town of Mbulu, which seemed marginally out of place when compared to Haydom. The roads here were parallel and perpendicular to one another, the town was clean and to top it off a youngster flipped us off as we passed…hmm!! But it was mildly refreshing to see that there are small towns where garbage doesn’t fill the streets and the smell is of the trees and not mixed with the fumes and smoke of raw and burning trash. We moved out of town and found ourselves in a lush green area with wet fields and huge abundant vegetation. We bumped along through these damp lowlands with simple small farms before ascending onto a bit of a drier mountain road.
The road curved its way up to a high ridge passed more homes in the most peculiar perches. We were happy to be in a car as we passed some of the area’s residents pushing their bicycles laden with various things from 25 and 50 kilo bags of rice and flour to huge loads of cotton and firewood. The road here gave sporadic views of the valleys below and the peaks on both sides. It was carved here by human hands and flowing water. The combination made for treacherously deep ruts and steep tracks. At times I had to pick my way by matching the route of vehicles that passed before us and bicycles that had moved smoothly through the rough terrain. Even here, when the road leveled off, we found a small village, clean and orderly with smiling and waving people and lively dogs. We slowed down but had to keep things moving and the road continued its relentless pursuit for higher ground running along the top of a small ridge with sharp drops often on both sides. The road finally left the ridge and moved along the mountain side with the drop to the left giving way to amazing views of high green ridges and fertile valleys carved by ancient glaciers. Here we stopped for a much need pit stop and snapped a few shots of the beauty around us. It was, and is, difficult to contemplate that we were here, it Africa, driving through this unbelievable area. We took it all in but the glorious sights provided a sensory overload. How I drove through this with my eyes on the track in front of us, is any one’s guess.
The views were great and the road was mainly smooth, which made Jeanine laugh out loud from time to time. That is not to say we weren’t jostled around a bit, because we were. Every now and then we bounced high off our seats, but this kept us awake and made for a fun ride.
For the final stretch into Mbulu we took a route Jeanine hadn’t driven before and we were not particularly happy with this choice. The road was very rough and caused us to slow down and Jeanine had to shift constantly between 2nd and 3rd. The final descent into town was nice, with the aroma of Eucalyptus wafting through the Cruiser from the mild breeze blowing the fragrance from the huge stand of Eucalyptus trees straddling the road. We stopped beside a river on the edge of town and broke out cold sodas and drake them down while absorbing the culture of the town. The hustle and bustle was like a big city but the people were as friendly as any we had come across. We said our goodbyes to Maggie and mounted us with me at the wheel for the next stretch of our journey.
As I sit here on the veranda of our room at the Outpost in Arusha, listening to our German or Norwegian neighbours banter in the native tongue, the trip of only yesterday seems a distant memory. I suspect this is due to the surreal beauty of the scenery we passed along the way. I’ll try to continue with some concentration.
We drove through the orderly town of Mbulu, which seemed marginally out of place when compared to Haydom. The roads here were parallel and perpendicular to one another, the town was clean and to top it off a youngster flipped us off as we passed…hmm!! But it was mildly refreshing to see that there are small towns where garbage doesn’t fill the streets and the smell is of the trees and not mixed with the fumes and smoke of raw and burning trash. We moved out of town and found ourselves in a lush green area with wet fields and huge abundant vegetation. We bumped along through these damp lowlands with simple small farms before ascending onto a bit of a drier mountain road.
The road curved its way up to a high ridge passed more homes in the most peculiar perches. We were happy to be in a car as we passed some of the area’s residents pushing their bicycles laden with various things from 25 and 50 kilo bags of rice and flour to huge loads of cotton and firewood. The road here gave sporadic views of the valleys below and the peaks on both sides. It was carved here by human hands and flowing water. The combination made for treacherously deep ruts and steep tracks. At times I had to pick my way by matching the route of vehicles that passed before us and bicycles that had moved smoothly through the rough terrain. Even here, when the road leveled off, we found a small village, clean and orderly with smiling and waving people and lively dogs. We slowed down but had to keep things moving and the road continued its relentless pursuit for higher ground running along the top of a small ridge with sharp drops often on both sides. The road finally left the ridge and moved along the mountain side with the drop to the left giving way to amazing views of high green ridges and fertile valleys carved by ancient glaciers. Here we stopped for a much need pit stop and snapped a few shots of the beauty around us. It was, and is, difficult to contemplate that we were here, it Africa, driving through this unbelievable area. We took it all in but the glorious sights provided a sensory overload. How I drove through this with my eyes on the track in front of us, is any one’s guess.
