16 MARCH, 2015

It has been quite a week, full on with the kids and health checks with the occasional social engagement, and by Friday we all feel a little tired and with a rather full weekend of activities. For some it is off on safari to Ngorongoro Crater and the Serengeti, and for others a range of things to do closer to home.

Jen, Bill and pizza oven.

Saturday dawned bright and clear. Well, for us it was a late dawn, as the sun had well and truly breached the horizon by the time we emerged. Those of us not otherwise engaged were headed off to a Maasai Boma, south of Arusha. We did something similar last year, and our first job then was to acquire a goat, an exercise accomplished in a severe rain storm, and a bedraggled and wet goat not on good terms with our goals. This year our goat arrived with young Baba, a sixth former who would accompany us to his father’s Boma. This goat was a much friendlier type, perhaps bred for this purpose. He was certainly much more compliant, resting peacefully under one of the seats on the bus and successfully resisting movement of bowel and bladder for the journey. He was pretty anxious to get off the bus to relieve himself, but polite enough to move a few feet away.

The Boma was, in the words of Banjo Patterson, “on a track seldom crossed ‘cept by folk that are lost” well off the highway on a dusty plain untraversed by four-wheeled vehicles. We arrived thanks to some mysterious knowledge of the driver who picked his way between boulders and thorny trees along tracks beaten through the scrub by goats and cattle and cut deep with Spring rains.

We were greeted by the chief (actually a king) and five of his seven wives and a cluster of children. His own children number 50, but he seemed not too worn out by the seven wives and two and a half score children.

As the senior male (the only male), I was “chief” of my family, and given the responsibility of handing over the goat, which had by this time, woken up to the fact that the transaction may not have the happiest of endings for him. He had given up his easy going nature and resisted his participation. One cannot blame him. The land is very dry and food sparse and we understand many cattle and goats have died because of the lack of food and water. Or perhaps he had compared the leanness of some of his new goat friends with his own plump condition.

I was given the honour of being shown the chief’s private dwelling where no women go. My first wife (Jenny) and the other eleven were a bit intrigued by this and keen to know what I was shown or told. Naturally this is secret men’s business and my lips are sealed.

We made our way home, stopping at the supermarket for needed purchases. While some were happy for an early night, others seemed energised by the days outing and the thought that they were one of 12 wives and wanted to celebrate their new status with some drinks. I was forced to accompany them. It was a pretty quiet affair with some drinks and dessert at the Picasso Bar. I had a very ordinary red wine wine which was sweet and warm, and not much to my taste.

Today, Sunday, turned out to be not a day of rest. Some of us went off on a rather vigourous 16 km walk through hill and vale around Mount Meru to a waterfall. When I say “us” I mean “them”, folk younger, fitter and braver than Jen, Janene and me. Our walk was more of a stroll to the nearby Planet Lodge for some good coffee in a quiet garden setting. It turned out to be very interesting as we met a couple of Maronite sisters on some R&R at the lodge. They were American educators involved in assisting young Maasai girls who suffer educational disadvantage. They have been in Tanzania for over 40 years and enjoyed a discussion with another pair of educators in Jenny and Janene.

Our plan was to meet up with the serious walkers for lunch at Rivertree Lodge, north of Arusha, so we took a cab, after wandering home. Rivertree is a most serene setting with beautiful and ancient trees, sweeping lawns, a pool, well stocked bar and an outdoor pizza oven. What more could you want. Our friends finally staggered in looking hot and weary and in need of some cool drinks and a dip in the pool. We shared some really nice pizzas and fresh salads and icy beers and that seemed sufficient to revive energy and spirits.

Eight of us (a true “us”) had signed up for some canoeing, so crammed into a minivan across some more rugged lanes to Lake Duluti. This lake is quite small, about 4 kilometres around the shore, but at its deepest is 700 metres to the lake floor. It is an old volcanic crater now filled with water, with steep banks lush with dense trees and vines and populated by all manner of birdlife, monitors and monkeys (the last two staying sensibly on the shore and in the trees.) As we set off, two to a canoe, we were assured there was no dangerous wildlife such as hippos or crocodiles. In fact the most likely danger was from the fluorescent green water, so we were motivated to not capsize our craft. It was a very pleasant couple of hours, a million miles from the chaos of the city, and with views of both Meru and Kilimanjaro.

Completing our circumnavigation of the lake we arrived home to a blackout and had to eat and plan Monday’s work by candlelight. Normally the generators kick in when the power is interrupted, but on this occasion they failed. I am now alone, as everyone has very sensibly retired to the comfort of their beds. I should be in bed, but I have had to type this twice after my effort on the iPad failed, saving not a single word! I am also having some troubles transferring picture between various devices. I will have to get this sorted out soon.