Bus, Barack, Betrayal

ahh yes love the alliteration.

That was pretty much the order of things over the past week - plus a bit of stuff in between the 'bus' and 'Barack'.

It was a chilly drizzly pre-dawn departure from Arusha last Tuesday. Bound for the West Usambara mountain range - specifically Lushoto. Recommended by others who had travelled Tanzania before, Lushoto was sold to us as a highland town with some stunning hikes in the vicinity. We arrived mid afternoon - about an 8 hour ride in cramped rock hard seats - the cool highland air was pretty much the same as the cool highland air in Arusha - similar altitude just more undulating than Arusha. We found a hotel, popped out for a chipsi-mayai (chip-egg omlette), booked a hike for the following day and then back home to bed early. The hike was nice, not extraordinary or boring, but nice. Having a guide takes away from the adventure somewhat. Having a guide wearing those air-holed new fangled sandles, billabong t-shirt and designer jeans takes away from the adventure a lot. But it was still nice. Some really lush, dense rainforest sections, the highlight being the Irente viewpoint cliff that snuck up on us and nearly saw me toppling several hundred feet to a splattered demise. I enjoyed shuffling as close to the edge as Heather and the guide would let me.

Should we hang out in the tranquil Lushoto surrounds for a week or push on and explore closer to the coast? Exploration or staying put? Obvious choice. We caught the bus the following morning to Tanga. Previously one of the largest towns in Tanzania as a bustling port, but trade and tourism changes saw Tanga fall behind. Still a great launching pad to explore islands, north coast and head up to the Kenyan coast. After arrival we jumped onto the soonest daladala (minivan) south - destination: halfway to Pangani. After 90 minutes of the most genuinely tooth-rattling ride imaginable we stumbled off the dala into Peponi beach resort. Price was negotiated with the old expat who runs the place and we settled in. The next morning we realised that we wouldn't have enough money to last the three nights we wanted so I headed back to Tanga to find an ATM. Daladalas don't run on a timetable so it was a matter of waiting for the next one to turn up. So I started walking (it's 30km to Tanga).

The conversation that took place during the hour before a dala picked me up:

"Unaenda wapi?" - Where are you going
"Naneda mjini/Tanga" - I'm going to town/Tanga
"kweli?! kwa mguu?" - Really? By foot?
"siyo, nasubiri kwa dala" - No, I'm waiting for a bus
"haya bwana, karibu!" - Okay mate, you are welcome (to stop and rest with them)
"asante!" - Thanks

Bone rattling bus to Tanga - Visa/internet dead. No money. Bone rattling bus back to Peponi. Can only stay two nights. We leave the next morning only to be ripped off by the expat (grrr... expats who've grown up in Africa and treat everyone like slaves). Bus to Tanga, bus to Moshi (only 2 hours shy of Arusha - base for Kili climbers). A bus ride through Tanzania is a non-stop drive-thru mall. As the bus slows down the merchants swarm around the bus selling their wares, or getting you whatever you feel like at the time, hmmm samosas and mishikaki.

It was at this time that the 'barack' part of the story begins, and ends about the same time. We discover the Obama has won the democrat candidacy for the US election later this year. We and most of the rest of Africa it seems are thrilled by this outcome. I worry that too much hope is placed on one man - there is still so much he can't change and pinning the future to him is bound to end in anger and accusations of unfulfilled promises. But I am still delighted that Obama won and that Clinton gave an superbly supportive speech.

So we return, relaxed, refreshed, ready to go.

Our farm manager has been fired. For coming to work drunk
Our 2 night guards have been fired. For coming to work drunk. Both necessary terminations of employment. But the devastating news was that 4 of our workers - including our daytime guard at the building site have been involved in hiding and stealing bags of cement for god knows how many months. After so much praise was given to the men about the honesty and trustworthiness, to find out about the thieving was kick in the guts. Darren and Mudi gave uplifting speeches about how this project is not for us, it is for this community and they will be remembered as the men who built Kesho Leo, creating employment and wealth in the community, so stealing from the project is only stealing from one another. They were all very roused by the speeches and spoke of how bad the theft was and how proud they are of what they are contributing too. How long this sentiment lasts until the opportunity for some easy money next presents itself is another question.

Language and cultural differences makes the interpretation of emotion and attitude almost impossible. But for now they are working like mad and the building and permaculture farm are steaming ahead.