Indian Visitor

One Saturday morning, a young Indian guy called at our Sanawari house with a problem.

He was taking his brother to hospital and had run out of petrol!
I felt sorry for the young guy, but as usual, before handing any money over - it always pays to check.
'Where is your car?' I asked.
'Down on the main road.' he replied.
'So you walked for fifteen minutes up here to find me?' the question was rhetorical. But he answered that he had.
Now his car would be fifteen minutes away from the hospital and how did he know that I was even there? I strongly suspected a scam!
I made a show of feeling in my pockets (I seldom had cash in my pockets at home). 'Don't you know it is foolish to carry money or have it in your house? Sorry I have no money here.'
The man left with no ill feeling.

Few days later, Missy told us of an Indian guy who had called on them asking for money. The description matched and the story was the same. This time one of her friends had given him something - not much, more a token.

Short but not so sweet

I have tried to separate events from Sanawari and Makumira, but sometime there are connections and separation is not logical. But for the record our period at Sanawari was August 1995 to July 1997 and Makumira from July 1997 to September 2000 & from September 2002 to November 2004.

Day 392, 15 Sept. Something gross happened. As I sat the Maruti waiting for a meeting [this was in Arusha town] A lame man walked up to me with his hand out, begging. His leg was bandaged up but there was a long rip down it. Puss was oozing out of the bandage and he was in poor condition and filthy! I had my window down and was prepared to talk to him and probably give him some money. He raised his leg and scraped some puss from the bandage and held it under my nose! The stink revolted me and I wound up the window. He used the puss to write roughly on the window!

Again as I sat in the truck, a man came up begging. He looked fine to me so I asked him why he was begging for money, he was fit, had two hand so he could work. He just pointed to his feet and said nothing. They were stubs, knocked off through leprosy! I gave him some money and made a vow to always check before making judgments.

I was a nodding acquaintance with a woman in town who sold bananas at the gate of Mt Meru hospital. On Saturdays however she begged in town pretending to be blind!

For a time there was a woman in town who had a problem of some sort. She would pretend to be very busy doing something. She would walk purposefully in one direction then pretend to look at something or pick something up then walk purposefully in another direction. She seemed to do this all day - never asked for money, just did that.

There had been bandits on the road at night and for a time it was dangerous to venture out.
One night at about 9:00pm there was a gonging at the gate of our compound at Makumira and our night guard came to the door. An old guy had fallen off the footbridge that crosses the creek just below our house. Some, [that's his name] a secondary school teacher thought this guy had hit his head seriously and needed medical treatment. The guy was drunk, very drunk! I refused to take him, but Some and Mbise, our guard talked me around. I agreed on condition a member of the drunk guy's family accompany us because I did not want to get stuck with the old guy. or be up for payment. A young man was found.
Mbise came too and half way down our road the drunk crapped himself! But it was watery one and leaked on to the back seat of the truck! And in copious quantities by the smell.
At the small hospital at Kilala, run buy local Catholic sisters, the guy refused get out of the truck! I suppose embarrassed at his state or perhaps just drunken stubborness. No coaxing would get him to get out, so I gave him my stern voice and told him to go with the sisters and not be a nuisance - he complied.
After I had asked the sisters if they could control him and they had affirmed they could, I told the young man who was his son, that he was to accompany us back and he was to clean the car!
Well we arrived at the gate and the young fellow opened the door before we had completely stopped and ran off!
It became Some and Mbise's job to do the cleaning as they had encouraged me to take the guy, but Some was cunning enough to do little.
In the event the guy was not really hurt - just some bruising, but a few days later, he arrived at our door, this time sober and apologized - sincerely.
At least that was something, but I suspect Mbise had something to do with it as Mbise would.

I had just climbed back in the Toyota when a bedraggled man came up to the window, said nothing, but threw a pinch of white powder on to my lap. He had startled me but I noticed as he walked to the next car that he was wearing a woman's pink corset over the other clothes he was wearing. This made him look like something out of a circus!
I think the powder was salt, though I never tested it and I never saw the guy again!

There was a man often seen around Tengeru who wore many clothes. He was bulky with clothes and always recognizable. We never knew why he did this, rumour has it that the town's youth banded together and stripped him down to give him a bath! Afterward he slowly gained in size as he collected and wore more clothes.

Muriet

Muriet village can be accessed through Nadasoito village via Unga Limited, but we most went there via the Dodoma road, turning off at a junction the name of which eludes me, but there is a large market there - Thursdays? - and the road to the sand areas and nearer, Olasiti Primary School. Lorries full of marram or sand often waited there to be hired.

Muriet has lately been in the news because the Arusha dump was established there and the smell and smoke no longer make it a pleasant place - though I have not been there.

Big E's brother John took us to Muriet in his car with a boot-full of trees from the nursery. I have no idea why this happened but I guessed Big E had made a promise to someone and had talked John in to taking me there.
Just how John knew where to turn off was a mystery to me but the faint track was smooth and easy driving. The road was not the lorries carrying sand made the road like a moonscape. However we were unable to reach the house of the man John was to give the trees to because of a shallow irrigation ditch. So a wheelbarrow was brought to transport them to his house.

A few people had gathered there and I demonstrated the planting method to them. John instructed the man to to distribute the trees among the people there and we were off.
I asked Josiah about this the next day and in the African way, he knew people there and had a connection. The connection comes through the Maasai inter-relationship and the church.

Through Gideon and his extended family, Muriet was one of our more successful project areas. The village was not well sited because of a high water table in the wet season and this limited access during those times - certainly I was challenged in the Maruti from time to time. Most homesteads were located in higher spots, which made living there a little more comfortable.

Gideon and his family became very keen tree planters and cared for all the trees we supplied. They also made sure the rest of the village people did the same.
Basically we ran the programme as with other villages. Providing a seminar on the environment and how to plant and care for trees. It was then up to the village people to prepare the planting hole - Joshia called them pits - my recommendation was you had to fit a 20 litre bucket into the hole. The soil was mixed with dry cow manure (or similar) and the mix was then returned to the hole. The hole was marked with a stick. The trees was then supplied ex our nursery and we often awarded an inducement for the best tree shelter [sticks, bags or whatever to provide protection from livestock and shade] - the inducement may be an avocado, pen or tin mug. Of course it was necessary to carry out followups and measure the trees' progress to be able to award merits.

At one household, we had inspected the plantings and I had given out some fruit - including mango - and had one avocado left. There was a small girl - knee-high to a grasshopper - whose name I found later was Neema. She had been following me around and looked at what I looked at and copied whatever I was doing. I gave her the left over avocado and told her to plant the seed inside [and how to do it]. About a year later, I was back in the village and passed her homestead. While talking to her father, she tugged on my trouser leg and said, 'Mzee, Mzee, come look at my tree!' It had grown to about 50cm and was healthy. Joshia showed her how to erect a shelter - though avocado trees are not palatable to stock. But this is what tree planting is all about! By now the tree will be fruiting.

Most of the village people were of a younger generation, Gideon himself had a modern outlook and had a metal work business (fundi) but others were more traditional. I always enjoyed calling on one Maasai boma where there were two wives - never met the husband - one of the wives had remarkable success with her trees, while the other was frankly hopeless, but she had the most children and they were well nurtured.

A group of women banded together as Mazingira Group so we were able to support them with materials and encouragement.

There was a desperate need for a preschool, chekechea, and we were asked to assist. Fortunately we managed to raise enough money to lay a cement floor, build a cheap slab wood building with an iron roof and a water pipeline to the building. We paid for the materials and the village people did all the work.



Green Arusha Society still work with the village which is the catchment area for Olasiti Primary School where we did little more than supply a few trees.

Kambi ya Maziwa

The name refers to a Milk Camp or presumably where a milk market was held.

This was an area of contrast. Kambi ya Maziwa the next village to Mateves and did not seem to be a village at all - just an old school. The kids came from somewhere but we never actually worked in the village, though some of them were from Mateves and others from Kisongo and we did work within those villages.

I had seen the school from the main road though it was quite some distance from the road and when some further funding became available, we went to see the school.
Kambi ya Maziwa primary school bounders on to St. George's School and here's the contrast. St. George's is named after the founder and presumably he thought himself important enough to to add the 'St.' bit.
His was a school for those who could afford the fees and so the school had the modern facilities that a well-funded school anywhere has. Around the grounds was a 2m high fence, presumably to keep the feral kids from Kambi ya Maziwa out.

The kids at Kambi ya Maziwa were just village kids - not at all feral but unable to pay the fees at a private school. The school was in bad shape. The weatherboards were rotting and springing loose in the hot sun. They were short of everything including teachers and teacher accommodation. They did have a water tap and that encouraged us to supply trees to plant around the school. This had a good measure of success.
Because this was an extra school in our schedule, we were not able to help in the way they really needed it but they recieved full curriculum textbooks & teachers' copies, cupboards, new blackboards, and teachers tables.

Through some fortune 'big noises' from NZHC came with us when we delivered the materials and they took with them knowledge of the plight of poor schools in Tanzania.
We continued our environment programme there for another year, which saw a number of trees established. Later, in another project we donated trees through Green Arusha Society.
I see now a Safari Lodge has set up business nearby and hopefully they are a good corporate citizen and are prepared to assist.

Footnote:
All this happened circa 1996 and then primary schools [and secondary for that matter] struggled financially, with resources and teachers.
Since then the Danish government donated massively towards education and friends of Tanzanian Schools, Compassion and people like Jane have contributed to assist schools. Much more is needed but it is pleasing that there is a movement to improving the lot of rural & urban students.
Perhaps I will give my take on what I saw in the education sector, but think that one of the problems faced by most students is there is no electricity in the home and it is dark at 7:00pm. Homework is given, but after household duties, how can homework be completed in the dark - the affortdability of candles and kerosine for light is a problem.

Mateves

The village of Mateves is not far beyond the Arusha Airport and actually backs on to the prison. Prisoners can often be seen in their black and white prison garb. These people tend a coffee plantation, a forest block of Grevillea and a vege garden. They never impacted on anything I did but the khaki clad prison guards were well know for their stroppy behavior.

Mateves was the first village we visited but really we did not work there a lot. This was probably not a conscious decision, but perhaps I thought our efforts were better served elsewhere and I did not warm to the village chairman - in the event he was beaten up and thrown out of office.

There was a woman's group there and Hifadhi had assisted them with a village garden and had been trying to get the villagers to plant trees. This was somewhat successful and we added to this through our work.
There was an elderly fellow who lived between the main part of the village and Stephen's compound who we assisted with nursery materials and seed. I was always careful when allocating materials and I found this man and his family to be keen tree planters and environmentally sensitive.
His nursery crop was a failure because his water source was cut by the army. They had set up a water line from the slopes of Mount to the Military Base at Monduli, but many village schemes cut into the line; so the military closed the line and set up another. This was a critical time for my nurseryman and the reason for his crop failure.
I provided him with trees for outplanting and to distribute among those he knew would plant them wisely.

We had not included the primary school among our targeted schools, but when one of the Vols decided he did not want to take up his allocation for assistance for his local school, we used the allocation at Mateves. We supplied Textbooks & Teachers Copies, cupboards to house them, exercise books for the kids, science packs, slates & chalk for the junior classes and teachers tables & chairs.

Later when Joshia had started his Green Arusha Society NGO, I helped him source his first funds for an environmental project at Mateves. This was a success and he retains contact with the villagers today. Green Arusha Society have a website and need more members and funding - help them if you can.

Papaya

I will write up about Papaya in my Treetop-ics blog, but for now something else about Papaya.
In some countries it is called Pawpaw, but it is a tropical fruit and it is common around much of Tanzania.
In the past the plant (actually a herb, not a tree) was grown for its gum - a sort of white latex which had medicinal value. The fruit is high in vitamin C and can be used to tenderize meat. A poultice of it can draw out sea urchin spikes - and I suppose other thorns.
It is a short-lived plant and it usually grows flowers of one sex, but male flowering plants do have fruit sometimes.

There are a few clones that produce better fruit than others and Joshia took me to meet his friend Stephen at Mateves who grew some really good-fruiting plants.
Like Joshia, Stephen was Maasai and he lived in a tidy compound in the new house he had built for his new wife. Like most houses, there was no ceiling board so on hot days, the radiated heat could be intense. That's why you plant trees - to provide shade! No ceiling board is because the ever-present dust accumulates on ceiling board and the weight eventually causes it to cave in - just one of those small problems that we in NZ find hard to understand.

Stephen was trying his best to make a good life for himself and his wife (and later the baby boy). He and I traded Michongoma and its seed as well as other trees - he was a keen tree planter. Stephen also kept partridge hens (kanga) - they were difficult but interesting.

Stephen would give me some of this big fruit - watermelon size and almost red fleshed. I would give the fruit away on condition that the dried seed be returned to me. There is opinion that the white seeds are male, but that may be - I tend to think they are enviable.

I had a lot of contact with Stephen, his wife and child and was pleased to count them as friends.

I grew the Papaya plants at Sanawari as well as Makumira and also provided seeds to those interested in growing them. The high vitamin C made it a good addition to the diet of rural children.

The first batch of 400 plants was just ready to deliver to the villages but to my surprise, they disappeared during a weekend that I was away! It transpired that Big E was short of cash and had given them to his son's school in lieu of fees! Well I was none too happy, but hey, the plants had served a purpose and were being well used - I could produce more in a few weeks.

Papaya are easily grown and stop fruiting well before the plant dies. For optimum management it is best to have a replacement plant established before removing the old one.

Monkeys steal the fruit and birds - especially mouse birds - eat their share as well.

If you see Papaya (Pawpaw) in the super market - buy it and give it a try.

A Trip to Mbulu

Due to the condition of the roads at the time, a trip to Mbulu was not to be taken lightly. The journey was mainly for Mo to carry out duties for the Agency, but was a fact finding and familiarization for us as well.

We did not get the early start we wanted, but I was to drive the first leg and it was quite hot as we passed through county that was by now familiar to me. We followed the tar road south towards Makuyuni.
It seemed that the dry had intensified as the grass had browned off and the smaller Acacia trees had lost their foliage to appear a grayish colour.

At Makuyuni we turn off toward Mto wa Mbu leaving the comfortable driving of tar seal. The road was a mess and I suspect it was never actually formed but became a dirt track through usage. Parts of the road were simply dust and others crossed a hard pan that had become corrugated - so much so that if you travel too quickly, the vehicle can bounce right across the road! For a short distance there had been a rain shower which laid the dust, but the vehicle broke through the crust and needed a lot of power - I crossed to a firmer area. [This multiple road usage is a major cause of erosion]

Some puddles had formed where the rain had fallen and there were Maasai women collecting the water. Presumably they felt lucky to have the water but we reflected silently about water shortages.

At Mto wa Mbu we stopped to eat some of the scones Mags had made and Mo had a smoke - I was the only one who wanted a Coke so I bought one at a handy duka. Some young men approached us trying to sell crafts as this indeed is a tourist route to the 'Crater and the Serengeti. We talked to them respectfully but did not buy anything.

Mo took over the driving and we climbed the Rift face - it was steep and rocky. Men push their bikes up this road and the women carry goods on their heads. Dusty and hot in the car - give them a thought! The rocks and the clay become red and we are covered by fine, red dust.
At the top of the Rift there is a lookout point and we looked down on Lake Manyara and the Park.
Heading on to Karatu I have described before but the recent rain had made a few more challenges, but the dirt road was much smoother than before Mto wa Mbu. The whole area had been cultivate in anticipation of the rain - this is a very productive area and supplies surplus food to the nation.

Along the way kids call out for a gift - zawadi - or a pen. We do not respond to this but we noticed tourists throwing small change out the safari vehicle window and laughing as the kids scattered for the coins. There is something degrading about this.

[I was reading today about a person who traveled between Mto wa Mbu and Karatu in 1935 and there was virtually no habitation there. Much different to today!]

We decided to stop at Karatu - that dust-red town - for a cup of tea and something to eat and Mo had been to the 'Flamingo' before. As we pulled up, I caught the smell of hot rubber and heard the hissing of escaping air. We had a puncture! A sharp rock had gone right through the tyre.
A couple of guys came to offer assistance and it turned out they were workers at the tyre repair place beside the Flamingo. While we were changing the tyre, Mags went in to order Chai and Samosa - they had no samosa and sent a girl to look for some at other shops. The tea was good - milky and sugary laced with ginger and thirst quenching. The samosas were hot and tasty.

We watched as the guys removed the tyre from the rim using a thick, round piece of metal as a hammer-cum-rammer while utilizing two bars as levers. Safety conscious me noted both men wore jandals - no safety footwear here!
The actual tyre had a huge hole in it, so they cut a patch - we would call it a boot - out of an old tyre they had on hand, gluing and sewing it firmly into place. They used a hand pump to fill the tyre with air and there was the 'pop, pop' sound of the tube settling into the modified tyre. We would use this tyre as a spare brcause it would be hopelessly out of balance but at least, usable. It would have been possible to organise a new tyre but it was at least a day away and we couldn't afford that.

It was raining heavily by the time the tyre was ready and I talked the guys into lifting the repaired wheel onto the rack on the rear door. The cost was Tsh 4500/- which was high compared to Arusha prices, but they had helped us out and in those terms it was value for money.

While the tyre was being fixed we had took the tea Mags had ordered at the Flamingo. Karatu town is red from rain splashing the soil up the walls of buildings and with the wind-driven dust. Inside the Flamingo there is no dust - it is a clean place but spartan. There were four tables, each with four chairs and we were served by a warmly smiling waitress who worked from a servery, linking the kitchen to the dining area. There was a menu board on the wall - with prices, and in the corner stood a small drum with a tap and bowl beneath to be used to nawa - wash your hands.
The tea was from a Thermos, Tanzanian-milky and sweet with just a touch of lemon and I took two cups! We asked for Samosas, but they had none [we were well after the usual rush hour], so the girl ran to the shop next door, but they had none either! The boss told her to go to a shop further away and she returned wet because of the rain but with the Samosas. We left her a tip for her trouble, but this is often my experience - service is provided. Huduma.

The dirt road towards Mbulu was slick with the wet and I had to drive carefully. But it was not long before we ran into the dusty, dry area. The road was smooth as there were no rocks, so I could go at a good pace >50kmph in places!
We were on the Rift Plain which because of the altitude gets a bit cooler [more so at night] and the further we traveled the greener the countryside became. Much of the area was planted in maize, which had grown to about 30cm, but there were crops that were about to mature, so I suspect maize can be grown on rotation there.

The main tribe is Iraqw and their houses are more square but built in the same materials as Maasai - mud with thatching. Generally the houses look neat and tidy and smoke flows through the thatching as there is no chimney. This is a health problem, but on the other hand it stops termites from devouring the thatching. And of course everyone's clothing smells of wood smoke.

There seemed to be less use of Kangas by the women-folk and both men and women use blankets, but not mainly red like Maasai - any colour at all. Men often wore European-style clothing beneath their blanket, which is draped around the shoulders.
Still the soil surrounding was red.

Many of the shamba have planted some trees - Grevillea, Eucalyptus and Acacia but generally there is a sore need of more plantings.

Mbulu is a larger town, with a main street of shops busily trading as we arrived. It is the commercial center of this thriving district and there many trees planted to offer shade. My impression was of a bust town with rich, green areas surrounding.

Mo had a meeting with the General Secretary of the KKKT Lutheran Diocese who have vols -both on the Heifer Project International but they have requested a Fish Farming expert. The General Secretary produced sodas for us and was very cordial and he gave me the impression that the ran a good organization.
Mo then wanted to visit the Catholic Diocese Health Sister because they had requested a Lab Technician. It was getting late in the day and Mo had forgotten the exact location of the office, but he remembered it was close to a huge Cathedral under construction. I decided to ask a group of secondary school boy for directions, but in the Tanzania way, such directions are always difficult to follow. Two of them came with us to show the way.

The Cathedral is indeed huge and I wondered how such a project could be funded and why there was a need for such a huge church. The Bishop's quarters too seemed to me to be lavish.
The Health Sister was just how you would imagine a Health Sister to be and Mo's meeting with her gave the promise of another and the likelihood of another vol appointment.

The road to Dongabesh was wet and slippery, no longer flat because the road negotiates a low range of hills - there was some tricky driving. The hills are covered with low indigenous scrub with a greenness unknown in the Kisongo area where we were working. The view from the top was spectacular and the vastness incomparable in New Zealand. The many greens made the landscape seen fresh and wet and the atmosphere was crystal clear with blue sky and threatening cloud to the north - well I thought north, but it was hard to keep my bearings.

From time to time we passed house that seemed little more than a metre high and there was some discussion about the possibility of them being dug into the ground. One of the vols confirmed that they were. The houses were mud walls and thatched, with some having sods on the roof, growing grass.
We were told that the local tribe began building like this so they were difficult for warring Maasai to attack and it is only a small number of families who build like this today.

The further we traveled the more remote we seemed to be with the occasional village being just one or two shops - duka - and I had a feeling of 'the old west'.
We drove down the hill into the larger village of Dongabesh. There were perhaps twenty dukas, bars and other buildings - most built from concrete blocks and unpainted giving the gray appearance. The Agency logo on the side of our Toyota was well-known in this village and we had the looks from people wanting to greet us.

Mags spotted the Teacher Vol because of her yellow hair and she came over to greet us. She gave us her house key and told us she would return there shortly with a few stores.
The house is attached to another with a shared courtyard and sits in the secondary school compound at the end of a Jacaranda line driveway. The driveway, as at most schools is rock-lined and the rocks are painted white.
There was no electricity but The Agency had supplied solar powered lighting and a gas stove and refrigerator. I was a comfortable setup.
There was a vol married couple also at Dongabesh and we paid a very quick visit to them before our evening meal.
We had brought a blowup mattress as there was only one other bed (for Mo) and we had taken our sleeping bags. We slept soundly to the drone of rain throughout the night.

Mo returned to Mbulu next morning which gave us a chance to relax and take a look around the area. We walked to the married couple's house (once the rain abated) and I was a little concerned that I might lose my way because we had been there only in the dark. The cool of the early morning rain was soon gone and it was warm as we stepped among the puddles. Several people greeted us, most shaking hands and talking briefly.
We easily found the house and Mama L was at home. She was keen to show us the preschool she had set up - Mama L was officially 'unassigned' but had taken on the challenge to do this.
First though she took us to the local orphanage, which had been a Norwegian project and had been handed over to the Lutheran Church.
I was to see much of this sort of thing and will write about it. It is easy to judge but it is an error to judge without understanding and seeing the whole picture. I did some early judging and write what I thought at the time - but maybe my judgment changed over time.
The building was to a good standard and a fence surrounding it was also secure. The solar lighting and many other fittings did not work.
The first thing you notice is the smell - kids' piddle. The orphanage is for kids under two years of age with generality of their mothers dying at the child's birth and after the two years, the wider family are expected to return them into the family. Of course this does not always happen.
The orphanage is staffed by four 'nurses' (on rotation) and they do the best they can with the resources they have.
In the playroom there were a few 'cuddly' toys but nothing else in the room - not even a chair. The walls were painted yellow and were grimy.
The kitchen has a small, wood-fired stove, so the ceiling is black with soot, but it has limited capacity and cannot cook enough food at once for all the orphans. The food safe had large holes in it so the files had easy access to any food stored there! The diet was ugali and sometimes beans - nothing else (but I suspected - milk). I was easy to tell that the orphans were undernourished.
There were toilet there - I didn't look - didn't want to. But there was the smell... well there was a shortage of piped water in Dongabesh - despite the rain.
The sleeping quarters - a room with red cots was empty of inhabitants, and the cots themselves seemed very small - a quarter the size of NZ ones. In another room young kids - 6 -12 months - were in bassinets with mosquito protection. Small faces smiled at us as we passed. We were told that the kids stayed in their bassinets for 90% of the time.
In yet another room, there were smaller kids and smaller bassinets - these babies were asleep.

A young physically handicapped boy walked awkwardly toward us and when I crouched down to talk to him, he made a quick grab at my spectacles - but I was too quick for him to reach his prize. Mentally the boy is not well either - suffering from a lack of contact with people, never treated with affection and no stimulation. Under fed as well!
The older children were at Mama L's preschool.
It had never occurred to us that such a place could be found here and we asked ourselves the the obvious questions. I was saddened by this experience.

After the orphanage it felt like a privilege to walk in the fresh air and harsh sunlight as we walked the short distance to the preschool. Mama L had refurbished a vacant room and has brought many visual aids, from new Zealand, to brighten and stimulate her charges. There were forms around three of the walls for the kids to sit on and grass mats on the cement floors for the kids to play on with toys that Mama L had collected. She had recieved funding from NZHC and I guess Mo echoed my thoughts regarding sustainability. With no income for a teacher, there would be no teacher. But whatever was taught would remain.
Mama L's daughter was visiting from NZ and she was giving a lesson on the alphabet.
There were four teachers (part of Mama L's funding) and there was a lot of praying, singing and restless kids.
Several kids from the orphanage were there, a couple of them handicapped physically. There was on msungu (white) girl there who spoke very good Swahili.
We joined in a short run up the hill to a church bell tower, and from the vantage point had a brief look at the surrounding area. Many of the kids wanted to run/walk with us and hold our hands as we returned to the classroom.

The preschool finished for the day at 2:00pm so we returned to Mama L's house where her housegirl had prepared a very nice lunch and baked some bread. The housegirl was respectful and dutiful and Mama L kept her busy, and she no doubt earned her small wage.

When the two other vols arrived from Mbulu, we went to the Teacher Vol's house for a Waitangi Day meal. Roast pork, roasted spuds and boiled cauliflower. There were ten of us in all.

The next day Pedro suggested we travel with him and the Babati Vols so he could show us the sights as we approached Dareda town. The road was wet, slippery and in places a bog - so the trip was a bit of an adventure!
Pedro has arranged for a truckload of cattle to be delivered from Arusha (part of the Heifer Project) so we diverted here and there to visit the recipients and make sure the heifer's stall was properly constructed. As well as shelter for the animal, there was a need for security as hyenas lurked in the night and very recently a man had been taken by a leopard as he was collecting wood.
The truck had been delayed on account of the rain and muddy roads.
We were on high plateau and it was quite cool and foggy. We passed plantings of Grevillea robusta, Eucalyptus maidenii and Acacia mearnsii which was pleasing to me.
A rain filled lake supported storks - marabou and yellow billed - big fellows, nearly a metre tall! We also saw a number of eagles and kites.

On the way to Dareda, we stopped at the houses of folk who were to receive heifers and some were a fair distance off the beaten track. At one place there was a steep, slippery decline into a gulley where there was a narrow, poorly constructed bridge. I looked at it and remarked about the safety of it, 'Yes,' replied Pedro, 'I'm always pleased to reach the other side!' The climb out was just as steep and slippery.

Back on the 'main road' we had another stop at a small hamlet where Pedro was to leave a message at one of the dukas. It was a windswept, grubby village, a bit like the old west and I whistled that tune expecting Clint Eastwood to ride on up!

As we climbed the hill out of the small village, there was a truck that had slipped into the water table, almost tipping over. It was stuck fast! There was another truck trying to help but a winch and D6 were more likely to be needed. It took some juggling for us to get past and there were a number of people pleading for a lift [probably been traveling in the truck].

To reach Dareda (Ndareda) the road descends the Escarpment [Rift] - the same one as between Mto wa Mbu and Karatu. At the top we took in the view and listened to the forest noise - baboons, leopards, birds and insects - we only saw a pair of dik dik and some rock dasse. Rock dasse are only the size of a rabbit, yet are a close relative of the elephant.
The view was spectacular - thousands of hectares, a tapestry of cultivation and crops, intensively farmed and very green.
The descent was not so slippery, but one corner was a quagmire of deep, watery mud and the diff-lock on the Defender was the only way we could pass through.

It was a very pleasant drive to Dareda and the history goes back to cave drawings and to stone tools. The locals are natural farmers and the soil is rich - this is one of the food basket areas of Tanzania.
Pedro's house was in the hospital compound and very good accommodation it was too! Pedro told us that just the day previously, a young woman left it too late to go to the hospital to give birth and she had the baby beside the bushes near his back door! He suggested the child be named after him!

Back in the Toyota, we headed for the new complex at Bacho, which was a joint venture between the Lutheran Church and the Heifer Project. A sort of conference center where things agricultural were taught. This is where a young married couple of Vols were supposed to be accommodated, but the construction had not been completed. The track into the complex was long and muddy, and with caution Mo decided we should travel in the Defender and leave the Toyota in a safe place - just in case the vehicle became bogged!
The complex was a long way from being completed, but was built of modern materials - imported bricks and modern-style roofing iron. It is proposed that seminars will be run continuously once the complex has been readied.
I was surprised to see that rabbit farming, dairying and tree nursery seminars were to be held with practical on-site instruction provided.
After our farewells to the resident Vols, we made off for Babati on a drying road and in pleasant conditions. Babati to a junction town - turn left to Arusha, right to Dodoma.

We stopped at the Beach Hotel (Beach? So far inland?) for lunch and it was a busy peak lunchtime but we found a table and while we waited for service we watched and enjoyed the general hub hub of life there. They did not provide tea or coffee so we resorted to our usual Coke and for Tsh400/- we ate a hearty meal of wali na nyama - rice and beef. Well the meat was chewable and I continued picking my teeth for most of the trip home but a most enjoyable meal.

Mo wanted to snooze in the back of the Toyota so I drove North from the junction towards Arusha. Most of the first stretch of road I was able to travel at 60 kmph which was good progress.
We soon left the green behind and the land became less populated and scrubby Acacias grew. Larger Baobab trees dotted the landscape. We passed through Magugu a rice growing area and noticed the house construction being of the less permanent materials.
The road deteriorated and progress became slower. There were undulations, sometimes deepish with water in the bottom where care was needed. I noticed to the East there were black clouds signaling a storm and we soon met with the rain. The water in the hollows deepened and black, muddy water splashed on to the windscreen. At one point the soils became redder and water rushed along with us and I could feel the road surface becoming soft. I decided to slip the car into four wheel drive. I noticed a big blue Isuzu lorry parked on top of the next rise - in the middle of the road - and thought nothing of it because there were always broken down vehicles on the road. The right hand side of the lorry looked the best path, and suddenly, whoosh! down we went! water came over the bonnet and my side window was down but luckily water missed entering the vehicle by a few millimeters. I had no choice but to keep going but took care not to speed up or stall - if I had stopped, we would have been in trouble. The bonnet rose out of the water like a surfacing submarine and we were none the worse for wear - it happened so quickly the water could not get into the workings of the vehicle.

All the way back to Arusha we were on the edge of the thunder storm that had caused the flash flood, but we were out of any danger once we hit the tar sealed road South of Makuyuni.

We arrived home late in the day with no food in the house, no water and no electricity. We had just cranked up the gas cooker when Jo called to take us to the Chinese Restaurant where we dined with gratitude and once home appreciated the comfort of our own bed.