Slept at the Roika’s fruit garden, dogs barking all night, goats, chickens and other sounds from the surrounding houses and hovels, snoring from Fanie and Mattie. I’m beginning to think I won’t get any sleep in London anymore without these nocturnal aural delights!
Wake up and make sure we have all the supplies we need to fly solo for a few days. Plates, cups, braai kit and so forth. By 07:45 or so the tour is off and we say our goodbyes. Luca once again extends his welcome that we remain here, where he can guarantee our safety and all will be provided, we can stay for free and so forth. He again asked if I wanted to use the internet and I take him up on the offer, fire off a few mails (and post some blog action). Also check out some banking and Annelie ties up a few loose ends from London.
I hop in the shower. Oh. My. God. Best shower, ever! The room is the same wet room, Arabic affair, with a little porcelain squat where a real toilet should be, a basin and a shower. All the water runs down the same hole. But that shower head was magnificent! Perfect size, high pressure, steaming hot water. I was in heaven, it’s the best shower I’ve had this trip, and must be the best in recent memory, I shit you not.
In the back of my mind I’ve been pondering these wet rooms and I had a few thoughts:
Pros: elegant, in that every time you take a shower, you wash the toilet and the entire room. So it stays clean
No damn toilet seats to leave down, or lift up! So no issues from the missus.
Cons: No real dry place to leave your clothes. (I do eventually manage to find a dry corner under the basin, and of course the railing you can use to hang some things)
DO NOT, I repeat, DO NOT drop the soap. It too will go down the same hole. You don’t want to drop it down the same hole. It’s hard to distinguish which squishy bit is your soap.
I spend the next 10 minutes sanitising my hand.
Mamma Edna is in the kitchen and has made us some coffee. The same Edna that helped us out yesterday, all power and control is now barefoot in the kitchen doing chores. The Roikas have an amazing hospitality about them, and I tell them so. We finish up the coffee, stop them before they make us breakfast (we already had some in the tent) and say our goodbyes. Luca gives me his number and makes me promise that I will call him if I run into ANY trouble. By 11:30 we’re out of the iron gates (with the conspicuous “L” and “R” lettering) and head back to Masai camp.
Once at Masai, the place seems more at peace than when we where there on Sunday and the commons area has returned to a more loungy affair. We run into Darrel again and chat a bit.
Darrel’s story: From NY, NY. Has a drama degree, lost his job post 9/11. Looked for work, did a teaching stint in the South Bronx, teaching heavily pissed off youth. Using acting techniques to fantastic success (go figure) to engage with them. Got tired of NY, very depressing environment, looked abroad for work and found a restaurant manager job based in Nairobi. Goes through the usual “should I / shouldn’t I / fuckit” thought process, packs up everything, sells what he can’t pack and flies out. Makes a huge success of running the 4 bars and restaurants, stays 2 years, but pay is crap. Back to South of France at a friend’s place for regroup, looks for work again, finds another club management job in Dar es Salaam, does that for a while before ending up in Arusha, Masai camp (Masai camp is owned by the same holding company as the restaurant in Dar es Salaam). Masai camp basically a hippy hovel, more of a “playground” for the manager (damn hippies). Of the 4 businesses in the holding company, including the restaurant, 2 tour operations and Masai, Masai has NEVER even broken even. “It’s not about the money, maaan”, when Darrel’s asks what gives after a few weeks. Right. Music is full psychedelic trance, with a following of about 50 locals. Masai camp is quite big, 50 people aint much.
Hippies (manager and girlfriend) go on world “finding ourselves” trip for 3 months, leaves Darrel in charge. Only condition: he can’t change the music.
Two weeks in and the so called loyal following of 50 friends begs him to change the music! “You’re managing it now maaaan, you can change the music!”. He does, and it’s a huge hit. 50 becomes a 100, becomes 200 and so on. And Masai camp actually starts showing signs of break even. Hippies return, upset (as much as a hippie can be) that he changed the music. He says he’s only played what was already on the playlist, but that nobodies played before. And clearly it works.
Hippies bail on Masai camp later on (or, maybe the holding company decided enough was enough?) and Darrel now part owns it. Cleans out the place, upgrades the menus and facilities somewhat, locals come pouring in. He’s idea was never to run the camp site as an excuse to hang out with tourists, but to create a space for LOCALS. One that was open and inviting, and not covered in burglar bars and railings like every other bar in town (this is true, every bar feels like going to prison).
Popularity sky rockets, and with it, pick pockets. Until then, it was free admission. He sets up a ring fence around the bar / commons area, puts security in place and charges admission. And Masai camp becomes even MORE popular, actually making profit! He’s been here 3 years now.
The rest is history. Arusha’s got talent was his idea, shamelessly taken from TV. He thought, well, lots of folks like performing. So let’s give them a stage to do so, and prizes worth winning: 500 000 1st, 300 000 2nd, 100 000 each for 3rd and 4th. And I did mention before we could hear cheering all the way in the Ilboro camp? Yeah, big success.
He’s dream is to do a reality TV show of the eccentric and interesting Tanzanians, starting in Arusha. He tells us a story of this guy that catches Moles close to his apartment, every morning, like clockwork. And the weird contraptions he uses, and how the little guy looks EXACTLY like a mole. And in the end, his Tribe actually eats moles, so he does a service and as a reward gets to take the moles. Quirky, always smiling, big waves hello. But also other successful people, doing good things. I agree that for Westerners we don’t get to see real African people. When people think Africa, they think people in loin cloth, animals and so forth. There is clearly a much more here.
We have a bite to eat, drink some more Savannahs and Darrel gives us a map of Arusha. It’s actually a small place, 2 “main” roads with everything sandwiched in between. Next we check out the Cultural Heritage Centre, basically an extremely large curio shop. Good stuff, very pretty, impossible to take everything in. Speak to the lady at the gems desk and look at their AAA Tanzanites. See the BIGGEST tanzanite I’ve ever seen! 50 Carats! In that same, deep blue-violet colour that flares red when you rotate it. Annelie melts. I tear us away from its allure. On our visit we see loads of beautiful furniture, warehouses full of unique pieces all coded. A salesman explains that should we require it, he can explain each piece for each, origin, significance and of course price. One day, when I’m big, I’m gonna shop here. I ask about exports and he mentions that they have a DHL office on site (which I actually noticed when we parked). How convenient!
All done, head to Shoprite, eat ice cream and head to Ilboro lodge again. We ask to check out the rooms ($105 per night) and they’re not bad. As luck would have it, while at the counter this Dutch fellow is there asking about his new chefs uniform and when they should go pick it up. Big smiles and welcomes us to Ilboro. We say we’ve been here before, we’re just camping tonight, maybe we’ll stay for one night in a room. Turns out, he’s the manager. Name’s Aht, Dutch born, been living in Tanzania for about 4 years now, running Ilboro for 3. He says it’s more of a hassle for him to fire up the boilers and so forth, why don’t we stay in the rooms for all three nights, for $25? (that’s only $5 per night more than what we would have paid camping). We eagerly accept!
Get our room key and dump our gear. Take the Bullet around to the camp site and setup the braai. Our first night alone in Africa! Make some boerewors, chops and braai broodtjies, dink wine and chat all night. Annelie feeling way better, though the pills must have some ephedrine or something in them because they make her heart beat way fast. But tonight it’s all good, and we don’t have to break camp tomorrow. Looking forward to sleeping in a bit.
Highlights: Spending quality time with the wife
Securing a room at the fabulous Ilboro for a steal!
[G & A], out
Taking my time
