TechZati

February 20, 1997

F*cking hell, it’s the 20th.  I’m sitting on the Kenyan side of Moyale right on the Ethiopian border. I just dragged my sore, dusty ass off the truck.  It was two days – very long days – in a lorry ride in an open bed. I got to Isiolo – no problems, net a guy on the matatu who was on his way to visit a friend. I met his friends and stayed in the house that night.  Hell of a nice group of people.  I felt exceedingly bad about telling them I was from Canada.  But, what do you do, you must protect yourself.  The negotiated the price of the convoy trip KSH800.  Not bad, I suppose. Anyway, I had the fine fortune of ending up in the back of a truck, open-bed of course, full of Coke, Sprite and Fanta bottles.  Crates everywhere…well, I guess that’s what big backpacks are for. Throw it down and sit anywhere. Damn it was hot.

Convoy Trucks from Isiolo to Moyale

I wore my kikoy around my head like a turban. It’s quite an art getting the knack of wrapping it around your face to keep the dust out, while keeping it on your head and using the rest of it to block the sun from the rest of your body.

From Isiolo forward can be easily be considered barren wasteland. Beautiful, but a very stark beauty. Apparently the area hasn’t had rain for 3 years. Further in the north, past Marsabit I saw heaps of dead goats and cows that had died of thirst. Their bodies left to rot in the sun….dried biltong – mmm.  Damn sad, though.

I did get another blatant proposal. Flattering, but no – I just can’t do it.  The ladies said I had “beauty like a woman’s” (I think).  Apparently it’s a high compliment; but they had fallen in love with me. My translator kept saying “why don’t you leave your seed in Africa.  Don’t you like Africa?”  Yeah…sure.

Village Stop For the Convoy from Nairobi to Moyale

Strange, when I wake up in the morning I know I’ve been dreaming that I’m sleeping in my own bed. I guess that’s my body’s way of keeping me grounded. I think more about what I’m going to do when I get back, than what’s up for me ahead.  It’s almost the same mindset I was in when I first started.  It’s the SIGN…maybe not.  Always thinking about what else I’m going to be doing, first in London, next – Moab, then Tenth Muse. Maybe it’s my over-motivated ambition manifesting itself.  I’ve made a mental note to send everyone a postcard from Addis.  I think Ethiopia is one of the ancient places of wonder.  Besides, nobody knows where the hell I am.

Now here’s a loaded question – have I figured out my life?  I suppose if there’s anything I’ve learned is you can’t figure out anything until it happens. But even that argument is up for debate.

Interesting thoughts heard at some point in time by R.O. Abbreviation:  ITHASP by R.O.  Art should be appreciated and understood by the common person.  If they don’t (we) understand it, why was it created?  Art is supposed to reflect society.  If it only is understood by the artist and his fellow artistes, than the whole reason for art has been lost.

February 16, 1997

Stuck in Nairobi…I went through major culture shock coming here. It’s a very modern city – by African standards. The Aussie guys I traveled with through the crazy night in Kampala took off to Arusha. Oh Kampala – dancing with the locals, proposals of marriage and declarations of love by the local ladies. The people here are off their heads. The first night in Nairobi, we went to a bar wanting a couple of cold ones.  Can we say hooker city! Had to extricate ourselves carefully from that one.  Stunning women though, I must say.

Kampala minibus station

Kenya’s a strange place. Everyone coming through is starting off or seasoned travelers transiting.  You can always tell the ones just starting out.  I can also say that I love Australian people. They are so mellow and just very cool – no worries, mate! I’m very keen on heading up through Ethiopia.  After getting there, I’ll be in good shape.  The toughest part really is just waiting around. I’ve met loads of traveling fools here:  wingeing Brits, chill Aussies, loud Americans, polite Japanese – everyone.  Fantastic!

Aussie mates I met on the road

February 11, 1997

We all stayed at the Virunga Hotel in Kisoro. It’s about 10 km from the border of Rwanda. Several overland trucks were there and none of them were going into Rwanda for the gorillas (from the movie Gorillas In The Mist).  Rumors of high tension supported by the fact that 2 weeks earlier 3 Spanish aid-workers were killed; and 2 days earlier a Canadian preacher was shot in the pulpit.  Other factors like the U.N. pulling out and apparently a price and bounty had been put on the head of U.S. citizens all added to the excitement. I went for it anyway. Sometimes you must risk – and this was one of those times.

Upon reaching the border we paid our fees and entered.  Me, an Aussie/Kiwi couple and a German dude.  We caught a taxi into Ruhengeri - found a place to sleep and got sorted out the gorillas trip. Going out for dinner later that evening it didn’t seem that tensions were all that bad.  Cries of “mzungu” rang out everywhere as we sat down to eat. Upon walking back to the mission, we saw at least 40 armed army guards walking around.  Even the guard at the mission had an automatic rifle.

Early the next morning we set out for the reservation office.  It wasn’t too far. We waited around for a while hoping we hadn’t been given the wrong information.  Finally we paid our money and were on our way.  We had to stop and pick up our entourage.  4 armed guards and a couple of guides.

The hike itself too about 4 hours. The guides walked ahead with radios.  They were spot-on.  When we finally reached them – after stinging nettles, poachers traps and scrambling down gulleys, it was like out of a dream.

We saw the SUSA group – the largest and most habituated – thanks to Dian Fossey.  We only sat with them for an hour – but it was magic.  The little ones touch my back, pulled on my ponytail and i got to sit very close to many of them.  The big silverback “Chief” was huge. Amazingly human-like and they have the most liquid-innocent eyes. I could go on forever, but we had to leave.  I could have stayed much longer.

We stayed that night and the next morning, I left. Got to the border and sat on the back of a bike for the 10 km journey back to Kisoro.

February 6, 1997

The saga continues…
Coming out of Arusha I caught a bus (not through the park) and it was the most difficult ride yet. Arusah to Mwanza (bottom of Lake Victoria). With a broekn window rattling in my ear, backpack between my legs and a “mama” with two kids next to me – I made the journey in 36 hours. 36 long hours of dirt roads and potholes.

Getting to Mwanza I had surprisingly little trouble getting on the overnighter ferry to Bukoba.   Without stopping, I went straight on to Uganda – through the city of Masaka and straight to Kabale.  70+ hours without stopping. After reaching Kabale and a harrowing ride from Mbarara, I tried to suss out if it was possible to see the gorillas in Rwanda as opposed to Uganda.  The verdict, go to Kisoro in the Virunga mountains.

Welcome to Uganda

The next morning I jumped on the back of a truck, complete with 6 army soldiers with automatic weapons and rounds of bullets flung around their neck like scarves.   About 20 minutes into the trip I find out they are all completely baked and had just been in Zaire fighting.  A bit further on, we passed an overlander truck and guess who I see hanging out the side – Aussies – Shane, Matt and Cameron from Zanzibar.

As luck worked out we got a flat tire and I was able to jump into their truck for the ride to Kisoro.  Great seeing them again!  We hungout – had a few boulies.  I’m definitely going to try to see them in London.

Picked up by Aussie mates on the road to Rwanda

February 3, 1997

We just finished the Ngorogoro Crater.  I’m actually amazed at how barren it all is.  The Serengeti and Crater both looked like I was driving through Kansas before planting.  I must say, this place is FLAT! Although the Crater this morning was quite a bit different from the rest.

Driving down into the Crater we were met by a wall of Cape buffalo – massive herd. They all turned to stare – curious, disconcerting stares from very large beasts.  Right after that we say a hyena kill an impala in the distance.  (Carrie, that one was for you).  I also saw the first real tusker – one tusk was about 1 ½ meters long.

To top it all off we finally say the real Big Five – Elephant, Cape Buffalo, Leopard, Lion and Black Rhino.

February 2, 1997

The legendary Serengeti Plain – as well as the proverbial safari.  Yes, you guessed it; I’m on a 5-day safari of the Serengeti Plain, Lake Manyara, Ngorogoro Crater and Terengila. I’m writing from a tent in the Serengeti and I can hear the hyenas walking through the camp.

First stop, Arusha. The “most lovely town in Tanzania” is a pit.  Tanzania is beautiful for scenery, but crap for a town feeling. On the drive up on the bus, I did see Mt. Kili(manjaro).  Although it’s the tallest peak in Africa, it didn’t look as impressive from the confines of the bus.  Upon reaching Arusha, I organized my trip with African Shoestring.

Our first stop was Lake Manyara. It’s the only place in Africa where the lions climb trees.  Saw it.

Day 2: Serengeti Plain – VERY impressive.  We’ve seen 4 of the big 5 in one day.  We saw a cheetah kill. We also saw the tail-end of the zebra/wildebeest migration. The Serengeti is fabulous, but I think I’d have to spend weeks here to really appreciate it. Now, off to the crater (day 3).

January 24, 1997

Quite an adventure here, walking around Stone Town. The feeling is Arab rather than African.  Gorgeous city, Zanzibar, I can’t get over it.

I met a few Aussies and Brits who just got off a big overland tour at the market.  Walking back to the hostel from the market, we got mugged. Not with your basic knife, but a blade of the persuasion better described as a machete and a 14 inch dagger.

Rushing out of the trees 3 guys grabbed a girl’s camera.  I was ~20 yards behind with another guy.  As we ran forward to help-one of the guys ran toward us knife upraised.  I thought I was going to get stabbed – so I ran.  He guy next to me tripped and dropped the souvenirs he was carrying.  I turned back to help and the thief grabbed the souvenirs.  He dragged his knife along the ground – orange sparks flew from the blade and the sound of steel against stone sound rang through the dark night.  Of course we ran ­ – I don’t know if I’ve ever moved so fast.

Zanzibar - northern side

But, I guess it makes for a good story.  Now I’m on the North beach of Zanzibar – lovely place.

January 22, 1997
After coming across Lake Malawi on the ferry, sleeping on bags of sugar, I entered Tanzania.  At the border, I’ve never come across a more blatant form of government corruption.  After seeing I had a U.S. passport and seeing my visa, they started saying that I must “pay” for the visa in “hard currency.”  Pretty much meaning anything other than the Zimbabwe dollars I paid. They said… ”the national policy is to pay in hard currency, so you must pay for the visa.”  I basically called them on it. They tried every string of lies they could think of to get money out of me.  “Be Honest” I said.  Full of it, they were – but probably not the smartest move on my part to fight them on it.

Sleeping accomodations on the Lake Malawi ferry to Tanzania

Making it to Tanzania – I had to sit in the back of a truck for 6 hours of dirt road with potholes and mud (again). Upon making it to Songea, I was offered loads of sapphires and pot – fortunately the door was made of steel and had a huge deadbolt. In the morning I got a 12 hour bus from there to Dar es Salaam (the capital) -it’s a rundown city with little character. From there I jumped on the Flying Horse across the sea to the “spice island” of Zanzibar.
I did have the best “shai” ever at a roadside café (literally a rickety bench and table next to the bus station).  Stick to the back of your throat spiced tea – unbelievable.

January 19, 1997

The Heart Motel Travelers

January 18,1997

It’s late in the evening and I’ve just returned from a Malawian Christian house-warming party. I can still hear them in the background.  It was quite the intense experience.  They sing African/Chichewe songs, all vocal, in the classic African style. They dance and basically get very into their music.   Their attitude toward worship is also quite different.  Instead of being solemn, they say you should express yourself in any way you feel.  Dance, sing, whatever.

The voices were lovely, all different tones – I couldn’t understand a word, but it was lovely.