With everyone out and about early, and Keith at the internet café downloading a CD burning program onto our memory stick, I had the computer to myself and lots of peace and quiet. I started a report for the scholarship sponsors, which started as some interesting observations but soon had morphed into the case for sponsoring students for forms five and six. It took a long time and was just about finished when Keith returned.
We were going to have lunch at the tourist lodge where Giovanna worked; a very upmarket place set on the mountainside. We had seen its lights twinkling above us the evening we had had dinner at the gardens. Rosie was concerned about us walking all the way, because there had been reports of both tourists and locals being attacked by gangs and having their valuables stolen. Even the workers at the lodge had been provided with a bus because it was considered unsafe for them to walk to and from work. As we walked along beside the roadside nurseries and shanty stalls full of souvenirs, we were more aware than usual of who was walking near us and who was watching us.
Rosie had actually advised against making ourselves obvious with a camera because tourists are good targets and even passports have been stolen. Keith was sure that we would be fine, and was wearing and using his camera. A man approached us and told us that the day before a tourist had had his camera stolen and that we should be very careful. He offered to be our guide. A little while after this, Keith whispered to me to slow down, which we did, and a man in a brown jumper passed us. Keith said that he had been just behind us for a long time and, since we were reaching more isolated parts with bush at the side of the road rather than stalls, he would feel more comfortable if he was not there. Of course he was just a man walking somewhere, as we were, but it takes the pleasure out of a walk if you are on guard all the time.Ticha and Rosie picked us up in the car, as arranged, before we reached the really dodgy section. The car was overloaded, and once we started up the steep incline to the lodge, it stopped. We hopped out to walk, without our bags so that they couldn’t be stolen even if we were mugged, and then followed Ticha’s advice to walk back down to the crossroads and wait for him to make a second trip, rather than to walk through the bush. It all seemed very melodramatic in the morning sunshine, but sensible. While we waited we were amused to see a sign advertising an ‘English Medium School’.
Rosie rang to say that the car had now broken down at the lodge, and to walk up. We forgot to be afraid of everyone when we saw a man coming down the track and exchanged friendly greetings with him. Remembering to be more circumspect, we kept on walking. In the distance we could see someone waiting in the shadows, at a bend. Our pace slackened a little until our possible assailant waved and we realised that it was Ticha, who had walked down to make sure we were safe, but had stopped in the shade once he saw us so as not to waste energy. At the top of the track we passed through the security of a locked gate, an armed guard, a guard dog, and a dog on the outer side of the gate visiting the guard dog, which looked fiercer than it did.
The lodge is in such a beautiful spot and has been designed to make the most of its position. Walter, who lent the car, manages the bar, and Francis, who drove us home on our first night here, organises ordering, so it was a good chance to say, ‘Hello’ to them again. Giovanna was at work in the kitchen, where bread and other goodies were being prepared. We sat upstairs in a lovely open room overlooking the gardens with a view to Mt Merut, and Sebi and Jarvah enjoyed playing on a wooden bicycle which was a static ornament in the middle of the room. Freddy and Pius relaxed, flicking through the beautiful photos in the travel magazines and sipping their sodas. The little boy and mother that we had seen in the café in Arusha were there, talking through safari tours with a client – so it felt like being in a play, with all the characters having appeared before in previous scenes.
Lunch for the Sebi and Jarva was an enormous and beautifully presented plate of food, which lost its designer layout as soon as Sebi attacked it. For a brief moment they looked like two old gentlemen at their club, and then, once Sebi had run off, Jarvah was left to eat on and cogitate on the stock exchange prices and the news of the world on his own.
The safari tour client turned out to be an Israeli futures planner, who admitted to being a workaholic, taking his first holiday in memory. He felt that having planned up until the end of 2010 for his ICT company, he could safely take off three weeks. His first week had been spent chilling out at the lodge, with only one escorted visit into Arusha town. Unlike us, for whom a missed work email is probably about something that is over, the more that 2000 emails that he anticipates will be waiting for him when he returns, will be about the future and can’t just be ignored.
Lunch for the rest of us was served downstairs, where a glassed-in wall made it safer for the children, whose lunch was brought down as well. It was delicious and beautifully served. During all this time, we had been able to plug in our computer to recharge the battery.
When it was time to go, it was a very sad moment, with Giovanna and the family saying farewell for an unknown length of time.
We walked down the hill with Freddy as our escort and the car going very slowly as added protection. We all hopped in for the drive into town, and for the stop when we broke down again. Finally we made it, and I was dropped off near the shops with an hour and a half to buy a twenty-first present for my niece, Felicity, and a small backpack for our walk in France. We had decided to send our ‘not so comfortable’ backpack, with presents in it, to Australia with Rosie and so we needed to replace it that very day.I had an idea of what I wanted to give Felicity and after looking in three shops, found it. I asked the shop owner advice about back packs and he told me that the ones that I could buy in the market would not be of very good quality, with zips that might only last a day. He and his assistant knew of a place that sold second hand bags, which might be a better proposition, price and quality wise. After some discussion, the assistant offered to take me there, and I gathered that it was not just so that I could find it, but so that I would have some support with language. There was only one bag that suited, and after me haggling until the price was still ridiculous, the man with me asked me if I would like him to take me to the market, with a signal for me to say ‘yes’. I agreed and the price of the backpack immediately halved. My helper examined the bag and pointed out some things that might not suit me, hung the bag up and took two steps away. The price dropped again. Finally, I bought the bag for a reasonable price, with an agreement that I could return it and have the money refunded if Keith, or my back on the walk to the guest house, did not agree with the purchase. I was very grateful to my helper because without him I would not have bought that bag and would have had to go to the market and run the gauntlet of being fleeced there, with the pressure of a time limit and desperation.
Keith was busy copying photos onto CDs for Rosie, so Rosie and all the boys and I went for a delightful stroll. We called to pick up some shirts that Giovanna had ordered for Rosie’s brother and father at a tailor with lots of pictures on the walls of the styles that you might like to choose. Every possible body shape was there, with the models of all sizes being shown from all angles. Clearly a body image of thin and hungry was not being promoted here. I called at a secretarial shop to have some photocopying done for Mr Chalala, of the back up notes that Keith had written for the computer. I wondered if I would have to pay for stapling the three copies but luckily that was free. It was the only item not on the price list.
Rosie bought Maasai sandals for herself and the boys from the stall where they are made from the tyres as you watch.
We indulged in some delicious fruit from a street stall – the pineapple here is the best that I have ever eaten. Poor Freddy had charge of Sebi, whose refusal to hold hands on roads and whose propensity to running away meant that he was being pulled along like a prisoner. A visit to the tiny supermarket enabled me to buy supplies for our long bus trip to Tanga the next morning, and later at a tiny stall, the purchase some oranges and bananas meant that we would be well supplied for the whole trip.With Ticha away returning the car, the rest of us and Godi went to our usual café for tea. During the meal the lights went out, and it was very lucky that Godi had gone after Sebi, who had disappeared into another section of the café, out of our sight, or he would have had a terrible fright. It was such a total blackness that we were all very pleased when some candles appeared after a minute or so. Jarvah, who had been crying off and on throughout the meal, was strangely silent in the darkness.
Back in our candle lit bedroom, it was too dark to pack so we set the alarm for 6 a.m. when the sun would not let us down.
"Don't worry, Mum, I'm nearly finished."
There is so much rubbish in this creek that a child thinks it's worth trawling through it for objects of some value.
The black patch on the road is engine oil that has just been tipped out there by a man doing maintenance on a car.
The guest house where we stayed in Arusha
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