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Bus window hawkers in Tanzania are very strong and very cheeky people. I will be sitting, reading my book when all of a sudden the next thing I know, one has pried open the window and stuffed a BBQd corn on the cob into my face, on the end of a long wooden stick. I turn to look at him, which is immediately taken as a sign that I’m interested, so out of no where, another five corn sellers shove their burnt corn in my face too, hoping I might choose one of theirs instead. So now, I have six bits of burnt yellow lumps wiggling in my face without me even uttering so much as a single word, and I thus try to pretend to read my book once more or say "Hapana ashante" (no thank you), hoping they will get the idea and hurriedly move on to the next window, trying to get a sale before the bus moves off.

Tanzania - Of bus hawkers and mountain life

Simon Wadsworth
2007-08-28 19:27:35

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wood with blunt axes, water trickling down a path being licked by a cat that is staring at the birds singing through the rustling trees. The region is stunningly beautiful. But as always, it's the kids full of unreserved energy that are the most fun and interesting to be with. You see them on hills a kilometer away, jumping, waving and shouting (or sometime you don't see them at all, just hear the "mzungu, habari" shouts echoing through the valleys), and they follow behind you on their bikes or balancing ten kilograms of water or logs on their heads, freezing if you turn round, as if playing "What's the time, Mr Wolf?". Carrying all that weight really can't be good for their necks, but one could say it is a choice between long arms and short necks.

On the first day, I walked with my guide Amri, a quiet but funny man with plenty of knowledge and stories up his sleeve if you quizzed him, and two awesome Canadians, Gregg and Adrienne, who by chance will be living in Twickenham later this year like myself (yes, it's official, Twickenham will be home for the foreseeable future, so everyone is welcome to pop down, or up, or across the sea even). We spent the morning walking to Irente View Point, which for anyone only interested in panormaics, would put a downer on the rest of their walk, as the view was pretty unsurpassable in its majesty. Also, anyone who gets the willies standing on top of tall buildings (someone by the name of Paul, or 'Dad' springs to mind) would have had the shakes as it was pretty much a 1000m drop straight down to the Tanzanian plains and cloud below, and then across to distant volcanic peaks. Nearby is the Irente Farm, where we greedily then guzzled down homemade cheese and peach jam on fresh rye bread. Mmmm. Beats the standard African ugali fare (a staple made from maize), described by Paul Theroux as chewing on a thick bath rug. I wouldn't disagree.

I then split with Adrienne and Gregg, and continued with Amri by foot and stupidly ...