What an interesting couple of days it has been. First, the people of Tanzania are extraordinarily polite, calm, and pleasant. They have always meade me feel welcome and safe.
I enjoy talking to the men, they love to shake hands, then hold your hand for a minute. A man lead me to a store by taking my hand. Also, men stand a lot closer to each other, and touch each others shoulders or arms more. To me, it feels natural. I am going to miss it when I return to the States.
My best moment so far was when asking if we could camp in a large area across from a small village. Of course, I first talk to the men, and the man in charge was Mr. Kissinger- no kidding. He was slightly drunk. He led me across the road to a potential camping place, and his whole village followed, maybe 20 people. It was apparent that they were going to follow us all the way to wherever we made camp, so I had to do something.
I told them that Sage was sick and needed to take a shower, with gestures of course. Sage went on ahead. I had to make sure they turned away, because they wanted to keep talking. One of the young women- and oh my, there sure are plenty of beautiful young women here- rubbed her fingers together asking for money. I thought she might be teasing, so I stepped over to her, and gave her my famous rap star handshake. She started laughing. I took her hand, and kissed it like a prince. She laughed and turned away, embarresed, then turned back and kissed her hand where I kissed it. Then, they all turned and went back across the street, laughing.
I always have such warm feelings after such connections.
I am loosing track of what the real world is like. Is it an American town or an African village? Which is the more enduring? Which is the better place to live? Why? Should I feel sorry for people living in mud and stick houses- or envious of their family connectons, and their ability to live simply. I came sure of what was better, but now I am not so.
Today we rode for a while to a major interestion, and turned towards Kilimanjaro. We only rode a kilometer, and there was no shoulder and the road roaring with busses. We changed plans, and with some help we caught a bus to anywhere north, which happened to be Lushota, which is up in the mountains. After sweltering in flat humid country, this is a relief to Sage.
Soccer team drilling.
Your village grocery store.
Buying gas- for a cookstove, but it is sold this way for scooter owners.
He makes and sells charcoal- behind him. I posed him in my sunglasses.
Spikey bushes near the first camp.
Beautiful tree in the sunset.
Oh, the pineapples are so good. I loved this guys stand.
It’s a big country.
What an adventure. I do feel so far away from home.