Woking Writers Circle hopes you enjoy Tricia’s second instalment of her Tanzania Adventures, as much as we did:
I’d said to my friend that I wasn’t keen to visit the Serengeti or wildlife parks. Human life interests me more. I’m not averse to natural features especially waterfalls. I was lucky enough to visit Victoria falls in 2023, all thanks to my sister. My friend also likes falls so she arranged a trip, with a local guide she knew, the day after returning from Zanzibar.
We sat waiting for our guide, knap sacks ready. B arrived apologizing for being late, we had coffee and discussed the day. It sounded great, waterfall, coffee farm, food in a Chagga village and back.
The day was warm and sunny, the mist hung over Mount Meru (the nearest one) and further on clung to Mount Kilimanjaro (the shy one) obscuring the summit. (A) told me she had only seen the summit a couple of times in the year she had been here.
B drove us through the bustling market, then turned off to a quieter road. He told us we were approaching Maji Chai.
“Why do you think it is called that?” Realizing that chai means tea, we suggested something to do with that.
“Nearly right, look at the colour of the river (it was reddish brown) the water is contaminated by minerals from Mount Meru. The name translates as ‘Tea Water”. He was very knowledgeable about the culture and history of the area.
About one hour later we turn off the main road, gradually ascending, luckily there was plenty of foliage and no steep drops. We were about the same elevation as the first base camp on Kilimanjaro, but outside the national park, I do keep forgetting that falls are quite high up.
We left the car and set off along a track, its only 7km to the falls, but quite hard going in places. In the shade it was muddy, in the sun quite withering.
B explained about the Chagga tribe and the Materuni village that we would visit after the falls.
B showed us how to make a sun hat from a banana leaf, he kept asking us to guess what the plants were, we were not very good at it, but it was fun. The people here are so much more in touch with nature.
As we descended, several scrambler bikes whizzed past, local guys driving, tired tourists riding pillion. I looked at B.
“Oh they give you a ride up the hill, sometimes it’s too much on the way back.”
Not on your life I thought.
We were approached by some children who had chameleons. A really wanted to look at them.
We stopped at the lower reaches of the falls, its about 80 m high. I dipped my feet in the water, so cool and refreshing. I swapped my trainers for sandals and B offered to carry my rucksack, which made walking lots easier. I’m starting to feel my age.
As we sat admiring the peace and tranquillity, several youngsters in blue school uniforms passed by, and then there were more. One hundred and fifty to be precise, several teachers and a nun. As the walk towards the falls was getting slippery, the nun was down to the bottom like a mountain goat, made me feel old.
B and my friend helped the teachers make a chain so the kids could get down to paddle on the rocks. I held all the bags. It was great to see the rapture as they paddled, sadly it would never pass a UK risk assessment, more’s the pity.
We decided that it was too slippery to go closer to the falls.
We went back a little way downstream, and had a swim. I tried to teach B to float, but the current was strong. We packed up hurriedly to beat the rush of children. I decided to walk barefoot , much easier. I felt more agile, in touch with the earth.
When we arrived at the steep incline, I wondered if I could manage it, just then the BODABODA (bikes) arrived . I looked on in horror.
“You’ll be fine, just hold on tight, put your chin in the back of his neck, honestly you’ll be ok.”
I went for it, spurred on by B’s positivity. Clinging on for dear life as he swerved around ruts, twisting and turning around the rugged track. I nearly squeezed the life out of the poor boy. Hairy, but any exhilaration I felt left me as we approached a steep descent.
“ Stop, stop!”
“You ok, you burn yourself?”
“No, no, I’ll walk down.”
He starred at me perplexed.
“Ok”
Then I stepped back and noticed that I did burn my ankle on the exhaust.
We arrived at the Materuni village, which J described as an authentic village where tours and trips were developed to try to help people and remove the temptation of drug use. His brother had succumbed and he wanted to help the young people. There were several dwellings and a cow shed, all the people, adults and children made us feel very welcome. B knew them well and engaged in some banter regarding one of the girls.
We were taken to a table outside but in the shade, and treated to a traditional Chagga lunch. Soya beans and rice, brown and white, soup, potatoes and local veg, meat curry. All fresh and homemade, it was lovely. I’ve never eaten whole soya beans. One of the young guys joined us, his name was Goodluck, as his mother finally got the son she wanted.
Then we went to see the coffee preparation. They had Arabica plants, we were shown the whole process, starting with the pods and the hand machine that removes the skin, the washing, where the bad pods rise to the surface and are skimmed off. The drying, which takes about 1-2 weeks. Once dry they use a large pestle and mortar to remove the husks, they then shake the husks away and these are used for fertilizer.
Next came the roasting, a man with dreads half way down his back, stirred the beans and moved the metal pot around over the open fire. We sang traditional songs. They tend to roast coffee medium here believing that it retains more natural goodness. Then back to the pestle and mortar. They made it look easy and I had a go but it definitely was not.
Tasting time! They poured coffee into small China cups and were impressed I drink my coffee black. Which is what they do. More pure.
Finally time to go. We walked back to the car, there was an old couple sitting outside a hut, she was stirring a pot. B explained they were making the local brew. We did have some of the banana beer with lunch, more like liqueur, very strong. This is called Mbege, it is a beer made from the ‘ndizi Ngombe (cow banana) and sprouted millet powder, it is a time consuming process and is made by the women.
They beckoned to us.
“Go on they are inviting you to try some”
It tasted ok but the grainy scum floating on the top. Yuk!
We thanked them.
As we drove down we noticed that the sky had become very clear. We stopped and were met by a very old man who was looking for something. The shy mountain had come out of hiding and was visible in all her glory right to the top. I felt very privileged.
The hour and a half journey there turned into a 3 hour journey back. We hit all the market traffic. I’d never driven out in the night when I had been in Namibia, car hire firms usually stipulate no night driving except in a town. Mind you it definitely wasn’t quiet. People finishing work, packing and loading cars and trucks full of unsold produce. Shops and bars and restaurants.
As it got later the clothing changed and an assortment of partying and nightlife was on display. Vibrant, colourful snippets of life. B wanted to take us to a local café when we got back to Arusha, we were both tired, but needed to eat, so we agreed.
Gradually the road became quieter as we neared Arusha. We drove into town and through some back streets. The café had lots of tables outside.
I was going to try chips mayai, a local specialty which was basically an omelette with the chips in it. I wasn’t sure at first, but it works. I also had some chicken and salad with different spices and breads.
We finally got back to A’s about 10 pm. A twelve hour day.
I slept well that night.
CHERRY BLOSSOM
Coaches click, tick and cool by dusty trees.