Saturday, October 23, 2004
Saturday, October 23
It is 1:00am and I am wide awake, just noodling around cleaning up some files on my computer and listening to country music on VOA shortwave. Country hits USA: “We laid rubber on a Georgia highway. Got a little crazy but we never got caught.” Lots of songs about “my Chevy” and faithless lovers.
I was so tired yesterday evening that I fell asleep before I finished eating dinner. But it felt good – I had spent most of the day on my bicycle. Rode to Mwanza early, to place a call to Myrna as soon as the internet cafes opened around 8:30am. Then decided to see if I could find the elusive path over the mountain from Mkyuni to Nyekato, after fortifying myself with a big whole-milk latte, African style, with two doughnuts at my favorite little cafe in Mkyuni.
The path was an interesting project. I had to ask directions frequently, as it led through a complex of footpaths high above Mwanza. Few houses, but the path skirted two primary schools full of noisy children. Nice scenery. Finally dropped down through a surprisingly upscale community to the bus station at Nyekato, where I drank in the bustle and noise of the shops and market, bought some peanuts and my second large bottle of water before biking back over the same route.
Then I decided to see if I could get to Mkolani by a back road and so avoid the big hill on the main highway. But the road went on forever through a long valley that seemed to veer off in the wrong direction, and there were no cross roads to try. The road got smaller, turned into a lane and finally to a narrow path. I gave up and was turning around when another bike rider came along and said that just ahead I would find a path to the right that would lead me to the “main road.” Sure enough, a few hundred yards beyond there was a very narrow and little-used path that led off through an unending maze of dry rice paddys. Eventually it joined a larger path, then a lane, a road, a bigger road still, and after another hour finally came to some houses and the town of Bohungwa on a real asphalt road where I could buy a Coke and take a break at a duka.
My consolation prize: I could take the back way home from Bohungwa past the Convent of the Poor Sisters of Clare (whose buildings certainly look far richer than anything else in the area) and so get back home without having to ride up that big hill I wanted to avoid in the first place. Success – just that it took a couple of extra hours.
So after after a shower and a stiff drink and falling asleep over dinner, I collapsed in bed about 8:00pm. and it felt delicious. And now I am awake and feel great, in the middle of the night. VOA has gone off the air by now, it is very quiet. Only insect noises. A good time to continue reading Kuki Gallmann’s book “I Dreamed of Africa.”
It is 1:00am and I am wide awake, just noodling around cleaning up some files on my computer and listening to country music on VOA shortwave. Country hits USA: “We laid rubber on a Georgia highway. Got a little crazy but we never got caught.” Lots of songs about “my Chevy” and faithless lovers.
I was so tired yesterday evening that I fell asleep before I finished eating dinner. But it felt good – I had spent most of the day on my bicycle. Rode to Mwanza early, to place a call to Myrna as soon as the internet cafes opened around 8:30am. Then decided to see if I could find the elusive path over the mountain from Mkyuni to Nyekato, after fortifying myself with a big whole-milk latte, African style, with two doughnuts at my favorite little cafe in Mkyuni.
The path was an interesting project. I had to ask directions frequently, as it led through a complex of footpaths high above Mwanza. Few houses, but the path skirted two primary schools full of noisy children. Nice scenery. Finally dropped down through a surprisingly upscale community to the bus station at Nyekato, where I drank in the bustle and noise of the shops and market, bought some peanuts and my second large bottle of water before biking back over the same route.
Then I decided to see if I could get to Mkolani by a back road and so avoid the big hill on the main highway. But the road went on forever through a long valley that seemed to veer off in the wrong direction, and there were no cross roads to try. The road got smaller, turned into a lane and finally to a narrow path. I gave up and was turning around when another bike rider came along and said that just ahead I would find a path to the right that would lead me to the “main road.” Sure enough, a few hundred yards beyond there was a very narrow and little-used path that led off through an unending maze of dry rice paddys. Eventually it joined a larger path, then a lane, a road, a bigger road still, and after another hour finally came to some houses and the town of Bohungwa on a real asphalt road where I could buy a Coke and take a break at a duka.
My consolation prize: I could take the back way home from Bohungwa past the Convent of the Poor Sisters of Clare (whose buildings certainly look far richer than anything else in the area) and so get back home without having to ride up that big hill I wanted to avoid in the first place. Success – just that it took a couple of extra hours.
So after after a shower and a stiff drink and falling asleep over dinner, I collapsed in bed about 8:00pm. and it felt delicious. And now I am awake and feel great, in the middle of the night. VOA has gone off the air by now, it is very quiet. Only insect noises. A good time to continue reading Kuki Gallmann’s book “I Dreamed of Africa.”
