The Grimm Adventures...

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.

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 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.

We are in Arusha now and have limited connectivity. Our drive from Haydom was amazing and I will try to post a story about the trip in the next few days. We are waiting here for a few day for B&B to arrive and then we will go on Safari for 5 days before driving back to Haydom with a local tour company.

Cheers,
Chad

Two million of us and we are loosing the battle to the giant enemy of Yellow and Red. This enemy is spelling DOOM for all of us. I don’t understand it; I have been leading this battalion for 2 weeks, since the battle of Pili Pili Hill and have suffered losses at every turn. Now when we have all but won the two day battle for Knot Hole and have carried off enough of the enemy’s honey to please the Queen and are ready to retreat, this new enemy arrives from out of nowhere. It is taking a heavy toll on us and the only saving grace is the air force of our original enemy sending in suicide fighters to try to hold it off. Despite the air attack we have lost 90% of our forces and there is no reprieve in sight. I may not make it.

It has always been invasion, invasion, invasion. Never a break! Never a, “take a day off.” Invade, Kill, Conquer. Lately our forces have been devastated at every turn. I mean, the only reason I was promoted to Battalion leader is that I survived the first battle at the human nest. And the only reason I survived is that I was chatting up this little lady from the scavenger nest. The battle had taken a good number of soldiers from the colony and forced us to create a treaty with a couple of neighbouring colonies. Then after two flipping weeks of battle training, recon tours, exercises, mock invasions and very little food we sent 75% of the entire battle force, in a multi-pronged formation into the human nest. We held for a long while. The humans were tripping over themselves to stomp us. We even contracted a spitting slider to distract the enemy, but he had little effect, other than to slow the humans for a few minutes. That distraction seemed to concentrate the enemy and after they called in reinforcements and regrouped we were gassed on a massive scale.

Hiding in the crevices in their food chamber I called for my own reinforcements. They came fast, 90,000 strong, charging in formation, 6 across. Many didn’t make it to the objective and perished in the gas. As the 40,000 of us collected for a second surge of force the gas continued from every direction. The troops were panicking in the ranks and scattered even under orders to hold the line. 10 of us holed up in the command post inside an old termite tube out of the gas. As we tried to figure out our next move a few lucky scouts made in through, but their news was not good. The battle had not gone well and much of the force was wiped out, those who remained alive had retreated, wounded and lungs burning.

As Battalion leader my orders were to conquer and make it back alive. At this point I was focused on the latter. The ten of us plus the three scouts made our way back through the eerie corps filled battle field. The humans, still not battle weary had anticipated this maneuver and stomped 8 of my small party. Even with orders to freeze at the sight of the underside of a human foot panic had set in and the men scattered. I am happy to say that a couple of them died with honor after mounting the shoes and attacking directly at the base of the humans.

We did eventually, under the cover of darkness, make it back to the nest. But as we were empty handed and had lost most of the battalion, it was a sad homecoming.

It was then that I decided to send the remaining troops on a massive recon to scout out new entry points. But the humans were there with their bright shining stick and lit us up like midday. I could tell from my command post on the tree of banana that the humans employed their yellow and red can of DOOM and again took out large numbers of my troops. Again we could see a few brave souls unleashing pain to the humans before being squished. After this failed recon we gave up on the human nest and went after the honey in the knot hole bee’s nest. Even here, far from the human nest the humans came on the attack. And, now I find myself trapped and close to death. The nest is filling with gas and I shall not last much longer. I must have this message reach the Queen.

LEAVE THE HUMANS ALONE!

Good bye…

Pancake breakfast with the girls and our only plans after that were to go to the mnada (market) that is held twice a month ten kilometers from Haydom. We hung out in the morning and were visited by Douwe how stayed for coffee. We then received a phone call from Emma Stella asking if we could come over at 10 instead of 2 (we had offered to take some pictures of her family and print some out in Arusha when we are there. We had said we would pop over at 2:00 after the market to do this but Nicole had misunderstood the time. In Swahili 10 is Sa a nne (four o’clock) and 2 is Sa a nane (eight o’clock) so the misunderstanding is very understandable. So we bolted out to her house after kicking Douwe out – which was not a problem since the coffee was finished.

We had a nice time as Nicole took a lot of pictures of the family, the children and everyone individually. It was nice to speak a bit of Swahili and watch the smiles and listen to them all laugh a bit. The reason we had to go in the morning was that Emma Stella’s husband was going to Kidarafa to the market as well and was probably planning to walk. We offered him a ride and he happily accepted.

We came home to find the bees, that nest in the large tree beside the house, swarming like mad and had to run like hell from the Cruiser to the house. Our fear was unfounded as we made it just fine but we are still confused as to why they were swarming. Perhaps they also had a visit from the ants last night and were checking to see if they were coming back.

Douwe and Anne and two of the Norwegian students were joining our excursion and we picked them up on the way to pick up Emma Stella’s husband so we were 7 and we also took Emma Stella’s son and housekeeper so the truck was pretty full. I was happy to be driving again and with such a new vehicle (only 12,000 Kms) the bumps were smoothed nicely. The road was full of people coming and going to and from the market so I had to give little toots of the horn every now and then when Cyclists didn’t notice us coming up from behind them. This is a very Tanzanian thing to do and I reserve the horn for those situations when it is necessary.

It is very funny to watch the people on the bikes. Many times we will see a man with a woman riding sidesaddle on the rear rack of the bike. As a vehicle approaches – if the road is somewhat narrow – the woman, whose feet always point to the near ditch, will leap off at a half run and the guy will either leap off as well and lift his bike to over the ditch or simply ride on, seemingly leaving his wife or girlfriend behind. There are also those who carry whatever they buy at the market on their bikes. I have mentioned previously about the bikes with many chickens hung by the feet from the handlebars and rear rack, but today I saw a variation of this. The guy had a piece of wood – two by fourish – across his handlebars about 6 feet long and a similar chunk of wood across the rear rack. There were about 60 chickens hanging off the thing, it was quite a site. I also saw three guys who I think were together, each with a roll of corrugated steel roofing strapped to their bikes. I can’t speculate on how heavy this would be but the roll was about 14 feet long and 6 inches across. They didn’t push their bikes with this load they actually got on and rode them. There was also a man with a 45 gallon drum, presumably empty, with a rolled up foam mattress on top of that. He was also riding and not pushing. Another had a crate of 24 soda bottles on one side of the rear rack and a crate of 30 beers on the other. The crates had a heavy stick through the handles and were balancing across the read rack of the bike. I could go on and on but this paragraph is beginning to look like something a Tanzania would try to carry on their bike.

I have to mention the funniest of all though; when we were driving back we passed a guy riding his bike with a spare bike strapped to the rear rack. This looked too funny and we should have taken a picture but because of my Photoshop skills no one would have believed it.

Enjoy the pictures below of the market.

Today is Saturday and I have booked a Land Cruiser for the weekend. I walked up to the garage to grab it so Abby and I can go to Bisutu, about 30Km away. It is a town on a lake that I passed on the way to Mount Hanang. I thought it would be nice to do some bird watching and even better to simply get behind the wheel for a change.

The guys at the garage were ready for me and the headman led me out to my weekend machine. He handed over the keys and I climbed in behind the wheel, on the right side. I wanted to make sure I got the glow plug deal all sorted out and asked if there is anything I should know before I fire it up. Another man approached and said something in Kiswahili; I assumed by his body language that he wanted to give it a try first. I climbed out again and we switched places. He then orders the other two guys standing nearby to start pushing. I couldn’t figure this out and kept telling him to start it up. We proceed out of the garage gate as he signaled that he wanted to bomb start the damn thing by going down a small hill. This did not build my confidence in the ride and I told them that my 7-year old daughter would not be able to push it nor pop the clutch when we were out in the boonies. (My Kiswahili was good enough to make them understand but they insisted that it would be no problem.) We did push it to a start and then the man stopped and promptly opened the hood. As the now crowd of five guys hovered around the engine our friend Adam zoomed past on his bike and I yelled to him that he had left his cap at our house. He circled around and we spoke a bit about the Cruiser. He, at first said, “Hamna Shida” (No Problem). But, on closer inspection and a brief chat he changed his tune. It seems he had been driving this vehicle the week before as an ambulance and had picked up a patient, climbed back in and the darn thing wouldn’t start. “shida, shida” (Problem, Problem). So with Adam’s assistance the guys, now 8 of them agreed that I should have a different vehicle. To get this done they would have to call someone who had already left, to return and switch with another vehicle.

So I thanked Adam and walked back home to wait the “5 minutes” for the other car to return. Five Minutes here usually means 30 but in this case it really was a five-minute wait. To my surprise the car that returned had been carrying the Matron and some other rather official looking folks. The Marton was pleasant to me but very upset with the situation. We shook hands and said our greetings. The driver removed some supplies from the back and handed me the keys. Not wanting to have anyone grab them back I quickly hopped in and for the first time in a month or two started the Cruiser and eased out the clutch. I felt as if I were on the first tee at a nice golf course being watched by the entire clubhouse as I took my first golf shot in a couple of years. But my anxiety was unfounded as I expertly shifted into reverse with my left hand and backed cleanly out the gate and drove the 25 meters to the house.

Abby and I sadly loaded the Cruiser and mounted up; Nik had some work to do and though she wanted to join us, she had to get some important work completed. So we waved goodbye and drove slowly through the hospital compound to the gate. “Wapi?” (Where) said the guard and I told him Bisutu. He opened the gate and in ten meters we hung a left and headed down the hill and into the savannah.

The road drops quite sharply out of Haydom and we soon crossed the river on the bridge, which is about 3 meters above the water. At this point Abby set the mood of the entire trip by saying, “oh its very beautiful.” I smiled, agreed and shifted into third.

We drove on with me dodging ruts and bumps and Abby marveling at the view and humming a nice tune. We drove over an area that saw the road nearly washed away entirely from the left and then the right. The river had meandered into the road and there were small cliffs, about 4 meters deep and eating into about a third of the road. Abby didn’t especially like this but we passed it in no time. We had a great view of the area as we bumped along, but the vehicle is a newer one so the bumps were not too bad at all. We came to a large bridge over a mostly dry river and saw to the right a wagon pulled by two cows in a deep part of the river. There were two boys on the wagon filling 45-gallon drums with the chocolate brown water and a third resting beside it. After we crossed the bridge I pulled off onto a flat grassy, or at least it was during the wet season, to see if they would let me take a picture of them. They were excited by the idea and smiled wide as I put the camera to my face. I noticed that they had a spear lying on the ground near them and commented on how nice it was. One of the boys came over and picked it up and they all posed again. It was really great to be out in the middle of nowhere speaking a new language and being understood, and having this little group enjoy having their picture taken. The groups of three turned into 7, as four boys came out of nowhere and they all had a good laugh at the pictures. I thanked them and returned to Abby, waiting in the truck.

We continued on and soon the lake came into view and the flooded town of Bisutu grew around us. The flooding explained the Restaurants now taking shape within the cavernous openings within thorny trees along the road. I assume these are run by and for people who have had their homes overrun by floodwaters. I mentioned the fact that these were restaurants to Abby and she said that while they are nice we wouldn’t be able to read the menus and therefore we probably wouldn’t get anything we wanted. We made our way toward the lake and came to a spot where they were fixing the road. The water truck pretty much ran us off the road. Well, he was only crawling along but he waved at us madly to keep moving, so we passed him and the grader and drove along the now narrow and soft road until it passed over a dry stream and the roadwork stopped. It wasn’t as if we could put it in fifth and set the cruise control at 90 because the road dipped and curved with huge ruts and sharp curves until we came to a straight flat section with a nice flat area between the lake and the road.

We pulled off the road and stopped to start our bird watching and I threw a shuka over the hood of the truck and Abby say out in the middle of the hood with me on the edge. We took a few sips of water as we used our two sets of binoculars to scope the area for birds. A pair of Datooga men passing on the road stopped by to say hello and we talked a bit in my broken Swahili about where we were all from and what we were doing. They had a good laugh as they each looked through the binos. We were joined by an older man who also took a look. I don’t know if they saw anything but their faces lit up and they thanked me for the experience and went on their way. The birds were few in this spot so we moved on down the road a ways until we could hear the sound of many birds nearby. We again pulled off the road but stayed in the vehicle and I took a few pictures while Abby looked through her binoculars. As we were stopped a man cycled by with a large wooden crate on the back of his bike. I am always saying hello to people and this was no exception; I’m glad I did as the man pulled a pineapple from the crate and offered it to me. I asked how much, for 1000 shillings I jumped at the chance to have a different taste and selected a seemingly ripe one. We talked a bit and then he went on his way. I assume he was off to Bisutu to sell his crate of pineapples, and while I’m sure he wouldn’t get 1000 each for the rest I was happy and so was he.

We soon realized that it was closing on lunchtime and flipped around for the drive home. We made good time on the way back as we weren’t looking for anything and I was getting used to the roads. We stopped for Abby to take a picture of some nice blue flowers and then stopped to pick up a man and a woman walking our way. The woman was going to Haydom with her baby on her back, about 10 – 12 Km and the man was going to a small town on the way to Haydom. They were happy to get a ride and I was happy to give it. Abby wasn’t sure about it at first but was soon back to humming a tune and chatting. I had met the man somewhere before and he also recognized me. We soon dropped him off and kept going toward home. We turned to head up the hill to town and crossed the river we had seen on the way out. I told Abby where we were and said she may want to have a look, just as I notice a few naked men bathing in the river in plain site. “Maybe you don’t want to look,” I said, and as it turns out she was too interested in the road ahead. We went he 500 meters more up the hill and dropped the Mama off at the gate and went home for lunch. We were satisfied with our time away from home and looked forward to taking Nik with us the next time.

The escapades of the night before left us exhausted and our throats burning, but we rose as usual and awaited the arrival of Emma Stella. We wanted to cleanup as much as possible before she got to the house but did not get too far. Our meeting her at the door and telling her to keep her shoes on intrigued Emma Stella. She seemed a little confused but was still able to tell us what shoes is in Swahili and followed us into the house. The mess of ants was a bit of a shock to her, as it had been to us but she took it in stride and got quickly to work. It was a nice lift to our spirits when she began to sing as she worked...but I'm getting ahead of myself.

We wanted to help out with this Shida Kubwa (big problem) and told Emma Stella that she was the chief and we were her team of cleaners. To this she gave a hearty laugh and we all pitched in to start cleaning up ants. Boiling water and scrubbing surfaces; it was as if this were common place and Emma Stella was a machine. In no time the house was spotless, or rather, antless.

I had removed the snake the night before but we were able to show it to Jeremiah and Emma Stella and learned that it was a spitting cobra. Terrific, I’m glad I wear glasses because they shoot for the eyes. Of course our little friend didn’t have a chance in hell of spitting on me as I attacked it with the working end of the “squeegee mop thing” that Emma Stella cleans the floors with.

Around lunchtime our friend Adam came by; Adam has lived his life in Haydom and was interested in the amount of ants we had in the house. But with the work ethic of Emma Stella, the ants were gone. We were not without something for him to look at though as we found a 3 inch long Tarantula sitting on the front patio. Boy were we excited to find that not only do we have Carnivorous ants and poison spitting snakes we also have massive poisonous spiders with centimeter long fangs living in little tunnels with multiple doors in our front yard. We should open a petting zoo…well maybe just a zoo.

10:05 ants on the patio
10:07 watching that 70’s show
10:29 ants in the kitchen
10:30 empty can 1 of 2 of DOOM in kitchen
11:07 get ready for bed
11:10 Ask Nicole to grab my iPod from living room
11:10.05 Thousands of ants in the living room
11:10.07 Snake in the Living room
11:10.15 Call Frances to see if she has bug spray
11:10.30 kill snake
11:15 dance out the door over ants on the patio and rush to Francis’ house
11:25 return home
11:30 spray ants in the living room
11:32 find ants by the thousands entering the kitchen spray them
11:45 find ants by the thousands in the second bathroom Spray them
11:55 find ants by the thousands in second kitchen spray them
12:05 read the bug spray and find out that it is harmful, ‘spray and leave the room’ hahaha
12:05.05 start choking and sniffling
12:05.06 flee sprayed rooms and slam the doors behind us
12:05.17 drink 1.5 litres of water each
12:10 sit down to more That 70’s Show to wait till the rooms air out a bit and our lungs clear of toxins
12:32 check for more ants in the house, find a few clinging to life and stomp them
12:42 find a few more ants running around and spray them
12:47 run from the sprayed rooms and close them up
12:55 more That 70’s Show to allow our skin to stop crawling and clear our lungs more
1:17 get ready for bed again
1:34 lights out!

Game two of the coaching experience was a fairly direct contrast to the first game. The crowd, while still a little unruly, taking the piss out of me a few times, was on my side. The little kids echoed my shouted Swahili instructions to the team. And, most importantly the team showed me great respect throughout. It was really funny to join the team at midfield just before the game to meet the other team and hear the ref’s instructions. The other team did not take their eyes off of me for the entire time. I mentioned to one of the players that we might have no competition because these guys can’t stop staring at me.

The game was amazingly rough and the ref was (giving him the benefit of the doubt) trying to keep the game clean by blowing his whistle every time two players came within a couple of feet of each other. This usually meant that my team was being called for something. My Canadian sporting spirit came out and I was like Don Cherry on the sideline, however my mix of English and Swahili didn’t seem to get through to the ref.

We took the lead early in the second half and never gave it up taking a 2 – 1 lead and for the most part kept the ball in the offensive end. The other team made a few charges down the field and missed the net due to forced shots through good defense. Then after we had been playing for what seemed like forever I started in on the ref about the time. He finally motioned that there were two minutes left (I honestly don’t know how he could see his watch as it was almost 7:00 and the sun had dropped below the horizon at about 6:30). I am fairly certain that he was waiting for the other team to equalize. He must have given up when our keeper made four spectacular acrobatic saves within 20 seconds. After we cleared the ball the final whistle sounded and the fans charged the field lifting Freddie, our goalie high in the air as the team swarmed him as well. It was quite the party atmosphere and I even tried to lift our goalie into the air but being used to lifting Abby I was not ready for his weight so I pretty much just grabbed him around the waist, lifted him a inch or two and dropped him unceremoniously.

We had a nice little team chat in which I found that more guys speak English than had originally. I find this very interesting! Oh well, tomorrow is an important game and I am very excited to see how we do. I just hope the ref forgets his red cards because I may have to bring out the white towel to signal our surrender.

Our driver Adam, still in two-wheel drive, eased the Cruiser down the steep track to the stream. The ruts on the left of the track were wide and rather deep; we all knew it was imperative that he stay away from them. However, as we got nearer to the stream the track also sloped to the left and the rear wheels slide that way and dropped hard into the trench. Anne was very concerned about our safety but Adam repeated, “Hamna Shida,” over and over to calm us all down. Then it was the turn of the Land Rover, a heavy beast of a truck with poor tires and an inexperienced driver. His approach was, ‘speed will get us through anything.’ He gunned the engine, spinning all four wheels and the beast jumped forward down the hill hitting the rut and bouncing wildly. They hit the stream slightly sideways and we all had to shout, “Hamna Shida,” so Anne would calm down. They made it through and after some tight turns and mild inclines we came to a large mud house with a large mud front yard. We pulled up as Mama and her son came out of the house.

This was the “parking lot” for the trailhead and this family made extra money by watching the vehicles for those who took to the trail. We found that their was also a local guide waiting for us – how he knew we were climbing today, we did not know – and expecting to take us up the mountain. Adam was our guide but there was no nice way to tell this man that we did not require him. We had parked right on top of a few ant holes, not the nice ants but the nasty biting soldier ants. Frances and I quickly grabbed our packs from the back of the truck and made for clear ground. We watching from a distance as the rest of the crew stood over the ant holes chatting. We warned them once and then Frances kept telling them just how nasty these ants could be. No one heeded the warnings until the ants had climbed up into the clothes, hair and…nether regions of a few of our friends. This caused a mass exodus from the area and helped us get moving in the direction of the top.

With the ants picked off, shoes tightened and spirits high, despite the rain, we set off up the path. The trail was wet but easy to navigate as we walked the first hundred meters or so past a nice green field and through some attractive trees and bushes sporting new flowers. Everything was damp from the night’s rains and the lushness of the area became even more evident as the trail turned up hill into a streambed. The going became more difficult as the streambed was a thick layer of mud and our boots had a tough time sticking it so we were almost all slipping and sliding around. The only ones who weren’t were Frances and our local guide who had the best footwear of us all. Well that is only half true; but you be the judge. Frances had on a wonderful pair of Vasque boots with Vibram soles and the guide was wearing a pair of sandals made entirely of recycled truck tires. It’s possible that most of us simply don’t know how to walk…

We continued to slip around while stooping under low hanging branches as we made our way up the stream. The walls at the sides were up to 5 feet high and freshly eroded; the trail would slit wherever the stream had felt like taking an easier path down the mountain. Many times it was easier to walk with our legs wide apart and shuffling with straight knees. I wish I had taken a picture of this hiking method but I’m glad no one had taken that shot of me. I can imagine how silly I looked with my feet almost level with my hips and ducking under a low tree and my arms swinging wildly as I shuffle up the steep slope. We finally broke out in to the open and got onto a more grassy area.

The trail here was not much better as it was about a foot deep trench with long grass lying across it. With the amount of rain that had fallen the night before this all made for unsure footing in a greasy pit. The view was intermittent as the clouds blew by quickly, and just as quickly we came out into the wind. The wind blew us around as we moved between the sporadic wooded areas. The wind at this point was fairly strong but we weren’t out in the open for long as the guide was putting the pedal to the metal and I was becoming fairly gutted. When the view was nice I would stop and shoot a couple of pictures, more to catch my breath than anything else but I also noticed the plants we were walking though. I didn’t taste any of the plants but the mountain was like an herb garden. There was rosemary, pineapple sage, thyme, dill, lavender and some other very aromatic plants that did not give me a rash when I rubbed them between my fingers.

The trees on the mountain were very green and were quite a contrast to what we see in Haydom these days. How do you like that, I‘ve only been here for 2 plus months and already I am saying, “in Hyadom these days”. Anyway, the one plant that shocked me was the Juniper. They were just like what one would find in mountains in BC; wind blown, weather-beaten and bent to the shape of typical Bonzai. The entire area was green and lush and has obviously received some heavy rains at a time of year that would usually see dry, cool days. The distraction of the surroundings did not help me get up the mountain any faster or with less heavy breathing.

After we had been walking, well scrambling really, for about 3 hours we came to a much steeper section with the wind blasting over the ridge at us. I felt as if I had been drinking as I could only keep every second step on the path, or rather in the path. I thought I must be getting to tired to walk and we came to bit of a rise the group came to a halt. The wind was hitting us hard and it was damn cold; Adam, who is not used to the cold, was looking bad and the rest of the group was not really prepared for this kind of weather. Frances and I herded them over the ridge out of the wind and we all broke into our lunches.

My lunch was the previous day’s pizza and four cinnamon buns, all of which I shared with Adam. Mirjam and Anne had brought hot water and we made two cups by cutting a small water bottle in half and most of us warmed up with a cup of tea. Some of us had chocolate bars and we shared them around the group. Adam was assessing the weather the entire time and we finally decided that we should turn back as he had never seen the weather this bad. Since it was his 34th assent and the first time he would not reach the top we heeded his advice and packed up and headed down.

I love descending mountains and always have. As a younger man Bob and I would climb fisher peak near Cranbrook and basically run up and down. While I couldn’t do that now I did have more steam as I began to go down Mount Hanang. It didn’t take me long to realize that I had better slow down a bit; I hit the trail with my left foot while in a half trot and before I knew it my butt was on my foot and I was sliding down the trench of a trail. I got a couple of oo’s and aa’s from the group and took it a bit easier as I continued down. After my fourth fall I was walking with the local guide and watching his feet. He was actually sliding a bit but his feet were moving very quickly in very small steps and if one foot would slip he would basically rock onto his toes and hop to the other foot shifting his weight forward. This worked for me as well and I didn’t fall the rest of the way down the hill. When we entered the stream-bed we found that it had taken some rain while we were up the hill and it was more slippery and the mud was thicker. The best method of forward mobility here was a snowboard style; one foot in front of the other with the weight more on the back foot. I could at times slide about 6-8 feet at a time doing this and it was fun. The most fun, when there was no on in front of me was to simply shuffle my feet as fast as I could and run down the sludge slope. The key to this method was planning. I would have to be able to see a dry spot or a small upslope or a protruding root upon which I could hit the brakes and slow or stop my forward motion. If the spot I picked was not dry or not stable I would slip around and continue to run, entirely out of control until I could plant my walking stick or grab at the branches.

After a while I began to notice more and more photo opportunities and I would hang at the back of the group snapping pics and chatting to Frances about the flowers or the view. If we would stop for two minutes to take a picture the group would be waiting at the next turn for us. I felt like an old timer who couldn’t keep up but I didn’t really care because there was so much to look at and it was all new to me. We hit the bottom well ahead of schedule and found the forestry officer waiting for us. We had planned to stop at the office on the way down and pay for the hike. But the man had walked the 7-8Km up the road to meet us and accepted our 2500 shillings each.

We hung out in the field at the bottom for a bit and drank water, chatted about not making it to the top and most of us avoided the ants. Mirjam wanted a picture of them and got a bit to close. She came running and screaming back to the group and Frances helped her remove a really vicious little bugger from her lower thigh. This ant was huge and did not want to let go; its mandibles were stuck in her leg and its body was sticking straight out. When they finally got the thing off there was a small trickle of blood where it had chomped down. Its lucky she caught it when she did because these little devils like to climb to the warmer areas and bite down hard.

We finally packed up the trucks and took off back to Katesh with the guide and the forestry officer in the Cruiser for a free ride. We got back to the stream and slowly got across it in 2-wheel drive. Adam slowly tried to get up the long steep hill we had descend on the way to the mountain and slide back down. We did the same exercise about 6 times before he decided that 4-wheel drive was the best bet. He also knew we wouldn’t be able to stay out to the deep trench on the right side but powered through and made it to the top. We turned to watch the Land Rover and I worried about what Anne was thinking now that she was in the Rover. Pim, who was driving now simply popped it into 4-wheel drive and hit the throttle full on. They bumped up and down and bounced sideways to the left and then the right, the rear tires dropped into the rut but quickly hopped out and they came charging up the hill. We screamed down into Katesh and dropped off our new friends. We were all really tired and listened to some Red Hot Chili Peppers as we hurtled down the road.

We all wanted Adam to show us the Haydom farm and we made a hairpin turn onto the trail to the farm. It would not add much time to the trip and as we had left Katesh early we were happy to see it. We passed a couple of small groups of people walking had some very nice views back to Mount Hanang. It wasn’t long before we noticed that the Land Rover was not right behind us. We found this odd, but shortly saw them in the distance moving toward us. We continued down the track and then came to a spot that gave a perfect view of Hanang and stopped to snap some more photos. We stopped for a while and saw no sign of the Rover. We thought it best to wait for them and after 10 minutes Douwe pulled out his cell phone to call them; no sooner had he gotten it in his hand than it rang. The Rover was hurtin’. Mirjam had just asked to drive, gotten behind the wheel and was about trying to shift into third gear and it just wouldn’t go. The boys decided stop and figure it out and found that there was no neutral. The transmission would engage in neutral and would not go into any gear other than first.

Adam is a mechanic and was eager to get to them and try to figure things out. We back tracked to the Rover and Adam tested it out. He knew what the problem was fairly quickly and as he works at the farm part-time, towing the Rover there was the best bet. The boys had a tow cable with them we hooked it up and moved along. Frances pulled out a bag of mini Mars bars and we teased the Rover crew as we savored the chocolate treat. We had to share sooner than we thought as the combination of the heavier Rover and poorly made tow cable soon caused the cable’s hook to snap. We tied it on the Cruiser and carried on. It wasn’t long before we had to stop again as the cable snapped close to the knot. This happened a few more times and then we lost the other hook after a series of small bumps in the road. With one Km to go we had a tow cable with no hooks but we gingerly rounded the corner of a stand of tall Eucalyptus trees and approached the gate with the horn beeping like mad. The guard was leery to open the gate and then finally recognized Adam and swung the gate wide open just in time and we continued our momentum through the large yard to and around to the front of a large Quonset hut and came to a stop. This was the farm garage but the door was locked. We unhooked the Rover and Adam took off in the Cruiser to look for the Fundi.

We looked around at a line of about a dozen tractors, a couple of Combines and an ancient Isuzu truck on this formerly Canadian wheat farm. I snapped a picture of the emblem on the side of the Isuzu (see picture). I like old farm machinery, due to my time on the farm when I was a kid and recognized the Massey Fergusson tractors from my youth. We hung out for a while and when Adam came back we found that the Fundi was away at church and would not return till Monday. We packed the essentials out of the Rover and into the Cruiser and packed everyone into the one vehicle and headed for home.

After descending the mountain by about 1:30 we figured to be home at around 4:00 at the latest but with the struggles it turned into 7:00. But it is this type of experience that brought us to Tanzania so I couldn’t be much happier with the trip and the experience. I suppose seeing a Giraffe or a herd of Zebras grazing in the Canadian wheat farm would have added something to the whole affair.

As you know I recently took on the coaching role of the Haydom Stars Football team. As a fan of the Chicago Cubs Baseball team I turned to their manager Lou Pineilla for advice. He told me on Saturday morning that he had to prepare for that evening's game and that he would provide me with some advice during the game if the opportunity presented itself. After a close play at third base my advice came in the form of this awesome kick of Lou's hat into left field.

Travel was bumpy, and Mirjam and I bounced around in the rear of the Land Cruiser on the sideways facing, firm benches with no belts. I kept thinking of how sore and tired I would be, even before the hike from trying to keep balanced as we scooted along. If nothing else this ride would prepare me for my return to Canada and the mechanical bulls that may be found in the odd country bar. If not for the amazing scenery the ride would have been very difficult.

We drove down the hill to Bsoto, a village that should be on the banks of lake Bsoto, but it is now mostly part of the lake itself. This year, as in 1998, the town was flooded and much of the town is still below the surface of the lake. The town’s main road runs directly into the water and we went as far as we could toward the new shore and took some pictures of children filling water jugs and men loading bricks from a pile brought across and dumped by a boat. It was depressing to see a man testing the water by taking a large gulp and then proclaiming to the child filling the jugs that the water was fine. All of the med-students in the Cruiser were quietly screaming, “NO!!” This area has scene a rise in typhoid fever and possibly cholera rates due to the flood. The water is not safe, but the residents are not aware of the dangers and consume it, to their peril. In Katesh I saw a child scooping water from a mud puddle into a water jug, presumably to take home to his family as a drink with dinner. Sad but true.

As we left the center of Bsoto the mood lightened and the scenery included the colourful locals, birds and the beautiful fauna that Africa is famous for. I was surprised to see pelicans resting on the water waiting for a school to pass. Just off the shore in the shallow water herons were stalking their prey along with an amazing stork and other birds that we could not identify. Perched on a branch of a picturesque Acacia tree was a Fisher Eagle who was carefully watching the water for signs of a late afternoon snack. We carried along by the lake for half an hour or so and then bounced onto a low plain.

The low plain was more like what one would associate with Africa; dry rolling grassland with the odd group of Acacia breaking up the landscape. Many of the Acacia stands signified a home. There were generally a few mud buildings with grass roof and a hedge of thorny plants for protection. In a more heavily populated area we passed a hoteli (restaurant) that was made up of a tree with a low canopy and a tarp on the windward side as the structure. Underneath this makeshift structure were a few benches and a ceramic barbeque. We did not have the time or the stomach to stop and test the cuisine and carried on toward Katesh and the ever increasingly amazing views of Mount Hanang.

The road climbed steadily out of the valley as we began to round the mountain. Katesh was getting closer all the time and the number of people on the road, as well as the number of houses increased as we went. At the first sight of cement structures we came up a rise and found a tractor-trailer on its side in the ditch. It looked like a major accident and I could almost taste adrenaline flowing in the vehicle full of med students as they anticipated the potential to use their skills. However, all was well and as we spoke to the group of guys hanging around watching the oil leak from the engine we found that the driver had simply lost the steering. The truck seemed to have eased into the ditch just as the driver was gaining a burst of speed to ascend the final rise before entering Katesh. The driver then came forward to indicate that he was fine, other than being a little down about his predicament. We gave our pole’s (sorry’s) and pushed on up the hill to town.

Katesh is a larger town that Haydom with many more streets that seem a bit more orderly than we have. We drove down the main road looking for the Colt Guesty where we had booked a room and where two friends of the Dutch med students were already resting and waiting for us. We made our way to the center of town and the large dirt square that is the bus stop for the regional and national bus lines. A friendly local guy gave us directions and we found the guesty very quickly. The guest house (Guesty) had a large steel gate with a rather nice painting of a young horse. There is a door opening in the gate and beyond that is, what I would call a roofless garage with another large steel gate at its far end. The door in this gate lead to another larger garage, that had the doors to the guest rooms opening off of it. We were able to get our Cruiser into the first garage and gathered in the larger garage and met the Dutch med students who have been working in the south of Tanzania near Malawi. They were very nice and showed us their Land Rover and discussed their travels. We then sorted out the rooms, pretty much filling the place and decided that dinner was the next priority. Everyone got a bit cleaned up and stashed our bags in our rooms and we were ready to go. That is when the rain began; it rained very hard and we almost gave up on dinner but the rain subsided after about 20 minutes.

Adam knew the good place to eat and we all set off hoping that the joint had a roof. We went a couple of blocks in the near darkness and found the Hoteli on the corner a few blocks down. It was a fairly nice place and we were set up with a few tables in what would have been a garage at the Colt Guesty but with a solid roof. We ordered a round of sodas and beer for the nine of us and also picked up a tenth in the form a friendly Tanzanian man that was on his way to Arusha. We had some nice conversation about life in Haydom, life in our respective countries and the day ahead. We were all getting close to the bottom of our bottles when a local man approached on a b-line toward me with his hand outstretched. As he came into the light of the room my mind swam to place him as I had seen him before. “I know you.” I said, “where did we meet.” As I got these words out I remembered that he was the reporter that I had spoken to in Haydom during the Dr. Olsen memorial celebration. We talked for a while about what we were all up to and he said he would like to buy us another round of drinks. The one thing that became evident was that it is cross-cultural to accept a round of drinks from a near stranger. We were happy to accept his offer and we all smiled as we sipped our fresh cold drinks.

Our meal came shortly but was a little mixed up, as is usually the case when one person changes their mind or orders off the menu. One of our friends hadn’t wanted Chipsi Mayai (French fry Omelet) nor did he want Kuku na Mchele (Chicken with Rice), he was being difficult by ordering Kuku na Chipsi Mayai (you get that by now). When the orders came he received Chipsi and no Kuku, which he refused and took a Chipsi Mayai and I got nothing. Being polite, as I am, and at the far end of the table, I offered all the Chipsi Mayai to the others who had ordered it thinking mine would be there shortly. It turned out that this little mix up had really messed up the Kitchen and they had to retrieve some more Mayai from the nearest Kuku. When I was finally able to dig into my chips and eggs I was delighted with the flavour as it is a change from the ordinary. However, after almost finishing 2, 500ml bottles of beer on an empty stomach, Chipsi na mud puddle may have tasted fine.

We were nearly finished our dinners and the second round of drinks when my reporter friend reappeared out of nowhere and grabbed my shoulders as he addressed the group. He was interested in where we were all from and how we were enjoying his country. When we had gone around the table he seemed very happy to have met us all and said that he was buying our dinners as well. This was a very nice gesture and we of course accepted his hospitality. He explained that he appreciated us being in Tanzania and wanted to express this appreciation with his offer. In the end we had to only pay for Adam’s meal and that of our Tanzanian friend on his way to Arusha and our first round of drinks. The two dinners came to 4000 Shillings and the drinks were 5800, a total of under $10 Canadian. Split that 8 ways (I don’t include Adam in that because we were paying his way) and the evening cost us about $1.25 each.

We all went to the next little dinning room and spoke some more to the reporter before heading out in smaller groups back to the guesty. The streets were saturated and dotted with puddles that were not visible until the reflection of the moon hit them a moment before my boot. But we made it back, down the darken street and through the two iron gates into the second garage and our rooms. My room was a double and I shared with Douwe (Da Wa) our Dutch Med student friend. The room had a worn lino floor, a single small window, two single beds with fairly decent mosquito nets, two small tables and a solid wooden door. The toilet and shower were out at the end of the garage; there were two toilets and one shower room. The sink, which actually had hot running water, was under a small overhang outside the facilities. We all gathered with toothbrush in one hand and bottle of potable water in the other. After making my teeth sparkly clean and rinsing my brush with water from Kilimangaro (well that’s the brand at least) I went to use the toilet. It turned out that this would be my first time using a toilet that was recessed into the floor. It was rather strange though I understand that it is more sanitary than what I would call a traditional toilet. The one thing that was a little off putting was the lack of a lock on the door. This was not an issue at this point but in the morning someone did walk in while I was…busy. Hamna shida, that’s one of the benefits of being a man; using the facilities with ones back to the door.

We had decided that we should not be too tired when we started our climb so we set our breakfast reservation for 7:30 and hit the sack. Because I forgot my book at home I wrote a few pages in my journal and went to sleep. The bed was soft but the covers were moist from the humidity of the recent heavy rains and I slept well under only the dry bedspread. In the morning we woke to an overcast sky and decided that we would give it a go, settle our guesty bill and walk over for breakfast. Settling the bill was a bit of a nightmare as we each seem to carry no small bills and the proprietor was having difficulty adding. We ended up paying 32,000 shillings and went on our way. Of course my business brain could not come to terms with such an amount not only was it small, but it was wrong. As we walked I added, and came to 28,000. So I returned to the guesty, made my argument to the proprietor and got back our 4,000 Shillings. As Frances had shelled out the extra, I returned the money to her and we walked on.

We once again dodged puddles but found our table in the other guest house in a private dinning room and settled into a breakfast of tae or coffee and Chipati (large thin pancakes). The conversation at the table was in four languages and mostly about the weather and the climb. We also spoke a lot about pancakes as the Dutch students, with a lack of anything else sprinkled a great deal of sugar on their pancakes. I had to shout at the tired Douwe at one point as he took a heaping spoonful of Africafe (the local instant coffee) and was about to sprinkle it on his last Chipati. He was more than grateful until the whole table began to bug him about it, but it was all in fun and we finished up and asked for the bill. The woman came with her pad of paper and the calculator on her cell phone and added up the cost of tea for 6, coffee for 4 and Chipati for all 10 of us. The entire breakfast came to 5000 Shillings and if you are playing along at home you will no doubt realize that we each owed about $0.50 Canadian. Less then the price of a pack of Wrigley’s gum.

Let’s add it up so far. Each person had spent so far;
Dinner $1.25
Bed $2.00 (give or take a buck for a bathroom in the room)
Breakfast $0.50
Total $3.75

We now mounted up in our two vehicles (the two dutch guys, Douwe and Mirjam in the Land Rover and the rest of us in the Land Cruiser) and sped off to the mountain road. We drove for a few minutes on a fairly smooth (for Tanzania) dirt road then turned North onto an increasingly rugged mountain road. We passed some nice Missionary’s homes with high fences and fresh paint, past dirt Shambas with grass roofs and rickety animal pens, and then it looked as though we were going to drive right into an outbuilding of a leaning mud and stick home. I thought this was the end of the road, with the mountain still a long way off; it would be a long walk. But Adam swerved at the last moment as the track went within two feet of the building as it curved around and went deeper into the lush green forest. The road turned into almost a footpath, not much wider than the Cruiser and we made good use of the leaf spring suspension as we bounded at high speed farther into the woods. The road widened, turned hard to the right and dropped off down to a narrow stream.

Four wheel drive was about to come in handy, at least for our less experienced Dutch Friends in the Rover...

Well this is awkward, as I have stated previously somewhere, perhaps on this blog, I do not really like Soccer. – Hereafter to be called Football – But, with that being said, as of today I am a Football coach. I am coaching the Haydom Stars. One of the guys on the team is a friend of Frances’ and he has been doing a player/coach thing for a while but needed to find someone to take on the coaching role. The team is very well organized and with George as the manager they also have a Secretary, a Treasurer and a couple of other executive positions.


It is very strange to take this role for a number of reasons, which I will list and then talk about why it is a great opportunity. The strange things are;

- I have a genuine lack of football knowledge,

- My being a mzungu (foreigner, white person) creates uncertainty and perhaps distrust

- I lack the Swahili necessary to communicate effectively with the team

- The limited time I will be in Haydom


These reasons can mostly be overcome with hard work on my part and an openness and patience from the team. I will learn about Football from the internet and from watching the games. I am learning and with the help of the team and George learn what I need to be useful. I can’t really overcome where I’m from and what I look like but I think that through being visible and getting myself known I will gain a certain amount of respect from the locals who are associated with the team and other teams. Being in Haydom for a short time is something I can’t help but I will have to come up with a plan for that. In business companies use succession plans and exit strategies to reduce the disruption when someone leaves the company. I am sure between myself and the team executive we can work it out. I will need to determine my short and long term goals for myself and the team and then work toward those so that when I leave I am satisfied and the team is as well.



The reasons why this is a good thing for me to do are many, but suffice to say that the role will enrich my Tanzanian experience greatly both while we are here and after we leave.


Today’s game was interesting. It was my first time on the sideline as the coach of a football team. I have been a spectator a few times and heard the banter of the crowd as they poke fun at the players and each other, but as the coach I am the brunt of the jokes and 99% of them I do not understand. Yes 99%, means 99 times out of a hundred; that’s is how many times I was the target of the crowd. And this was only a friendly game. I can imagine when it is serious I will be laughed at for the entire game and no one will even know the score. That is except for me. One good example, the joke I understood, came just after my team scored their second goal. I wrote a few notes in my book about what they did well that had enabled the scoring opportunity. But this one little smart A%& kid told everyone, in Swahili, that the coach had to use paper to figure out what one and one were so he could figure out the score. Don’t get me wrong it was very funny but with my limited Swahili my response was simply, “mbili (two)”. This was my only comeback of the two hour match but it made me feel better and brought a bit of added laughter, though I don’t know if the crowd was laughing with me or at me. Hamna Shida (no Problem)!!