I’m in Tanzania on my first visit to sub-saharan Africa, taking a well-earned week’s holiday and then working in Moshi and Arusha for the second week before going home via three days in Istanbul. I landed at Kilimanjaro airport early this morning at 1am, which feels a long time ago. Despite being worn out from weeks of hard work in preparation for an indulgent two and half weeks away and thirty hours of travel time, I didn’t feel too weary today. To my surprise I woke up refreshed after only six hours of sleep and immediately bounced out of bed with excitement to see what sort of country I had stumbled into the previous night in the dark.
I hastened to Arusha as fast as I could (the bus driver made sure of that), where I needed to settle my fees for my five day safari which starts tomorrow. From a bustling bus station in Moshi to even louder one in Arusha and everywhere I’ve been since, I’ve hardly been left alone. People are very friendly and curious, and everyone I pass calls out to me, with cries of “karibu!” (welcome), “habari?” (how are you?), or simply “jambo!”. Although I was excited to meet people of a new nationality to me and to talk with everyone, my introversion meant that I quickly became tired of almost constant interaction throughout the day. When I found a quiet little shop which offered cold beer and had mercifully empty tables outside in the glowing sunset, I gladly nestled in with my book, reflecting that although I may have been more sociable today than I had expected, it did make a pleasant change from the now Godwin’s Law-esque pub conversations in London, which after ten minutes inevitably turn to Brexit and Beyond.
My spot was very peaceful, perhaps all the more so because my surroundings were at odds with the picturesque sundowner I’d had in mind. The small road I was on was undergoing construction and was a dusty mixture of earth and gravel piled over a metre high at intervals, and deep sandy troughs where traffic had persisted through. But the workers had stopped digging for the day, and apart from the children tending the skewers on the barbecue on the corner, there was no one around. The sun was low and orange, and great Mount Meru was shouldering through the hazy clouds. As I opened my book and took my first refreshing swig of Kilimanjaro beer, cleansing the red African dust from my throat, a local man appeared in the chair next to me and started a conversation. This wasn’t especially welcome at that moment, but nor was it unusual, as I’d had similar company for lunch and everywhere else I’d stopped. It turned out that although he was from Arusha, my companion now lived in Richmond working on a construction site, and before he'd returned home for this brief holiday, he hadn’t seen his family for three years. We swapped stories about the feels of different London boroughs, the prices of rent, and November rain. After about ten minutes, he leaned back in his chair, turned to me, and said,
“Well, what about that Brexit vote?"
______
More on Tanzania (chronological order):
Arusha, Tanzania - my first visit to sub-Saharan Africa
Tarangire National Park - meeting the elephants
The Spanish Sausage Plague - disaster strikes the Spaniards
Sunrise in the Serengeti - the plague lifts
Ngorongoro Crater and the elusive rhino - we look for rhinos and stare hard at a rock
Lake Manyara and the Last Supper - a little Swahili goes a long way
A goddamn flight on a goddamn plane - karma strikes a rude man as I head to Istanbul
I hastened to Arusha as fast as I could (the bus driver made sure of that), where I needed to settle my fees for my five day safari which starts tomorrow. From a bustling bus station in Moshi to even louder one in Arusha and everywhere I’ve been since, I’ve hardly been left alone. People are very friendly and curious, and everyone I pass calls out to me, with cries of “karibu!” (welcome), “habari?” (how are you?), or simply “jambo!”. Although I was excited to meet people of a new nationality to me and to talk with everyone, my introversion meant that I quickly became tired of almost constant interaction throughout the day. When I found a quiet little shop which offered cold beer and had mercifully empty tables outside in the glowing sunset, I gladly nestled in with my book, reflecting that although I may have been more sociable today than I had expected, it did make a pleasant change from the now Godwin’s Law-esque pub conversations in London, which after ten minutes inevitably turn to Brexit and Beyond.
My spot was very peaceful, perhaps all the more so because my surroundings were at odds with the picturesque sundowner I’d had in mind. The small road I was on was undergoing construction and was a dusty mixture of earth and gravel piled over a metre high at intervals, and deep sandy troughs where traffic had persisted through. But the workers had stopped digging for the day, and apart from the children tending the skewers on the barbecue on the corner, there was no one around. The sun was low and orange, and great Mount Meru was shouldering through the hazy clouds. As I opened my book and took my first refreshing swig of Kilimanjaro beer, cleansing the red African dust from my throat, a local man appeared in the chair next to me and started a conversation. This wasn’t especially welcome at that moment, but nor was it unusual, as I’d had similar company for lunch and everywhere else I’d stopped. It turned out that although he was from Arusha, my companion now lived in Richmond working on a construction site, and before he'd returned home for this brief holiday, he hadn’t seen his family for three years. We swapped stories about the feels of different London boroughs, the prices of rent, and November rain. After about ten minutes, he leaned back in his chair, turned to me, and said,
“Well, what about that Brexit vote?"
______
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More on Tanzania (chronological order):
Arusha, Tanzania - my first visit to sub-Saharan Africa
Tarangire National Park - meeting the elephants
The Spanish Sausage Plague - disaster strikes the Spaniards
Sunrise in the Serengeti - the plague lifts
Ngorongoro Crater and the elusive rhino - we look for rhinos and stare hard at a rock
Lake Manyara and the Last Supper - a little Swahili goes a long way
A goddamn flight on a goddamn plane - karma strikes a rude man as I head to Istanbul
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