Awoken by The Sound Of African Drumming In The Night... Let's Follow it...

We drive further into Tanzania. We stop at our next campsite. The vibrant green grass is a contrast to the rust coloured dusty road leading into the site. Different buildings are laid out throughout the campsite, between the trees. The pub is richly furnished with carved furniture, lamps and warm fabrics. It has a colonial feel. I wander into the craft shop. There's a camera crew filming the lady who is working there. That night, after I go to bed, I hear the sound of African drumming. It's dark outside and the sky is starry. I put on clothes over my pajamas and follow the sounds of the drumming. It's surreal. As I walk up a path, I can see African dancers, drummers and singers at the end of a long lawn. I'm on my own. There's no one else around at that moment. Some more of the group approach a few minutes later and we watch the traditional entertainment together.

The Cradle Of Mankind, The Great Rift Valley

While travelling through Tanzania, we also visit the Oldupai Gorge (which is also known as the cradle of mankind). Louis and Mary Leakey were pioneering archaeologists here in the 1930's. The site was once a large lake. The Oldupai Gorge contains important palaeoanthropological findings regarding the evolution of humans.

Tribal People

Today, we explore banana plantations near the campsite at Mto Wa Mbu. We trek on the soft path between the banana trees. Every part of the banana tree is used by the locals for building houses, providing food and exports, as well as in the banana beer making process. We visit a local tribal village. A man sits in the shade carving an ebony statue. Ebony is the most expensive wood. It's very dark in colour. Only the men are allowed to wood carve. The women have the task of making roofs out of banana leaves. It is in this village, I start my collection of tribal masks. The masks are traditionally used by boys in coming of age ceremonies. The carvings completely intrigue me.

We visit rice fields and see the different stages of the rice growth and production. We see how banana beer is fermented. A jug gets passed around for a taste testing session. One of my favourite places in Mto Wa Mbu is the local artists' group. They create work outdoors and finished work is spread out in a gallery within the jungle. It's the best art gallery I've ever seen. We visit a school and the children here are completely fascinated with my hair and they all want to touch it. Lots of tiny hands clawing at me. They sing us a song. The children are mesmerized by the view finder of my camera. They adore us taking photographs of them.







We trek through the jungle, up a hill. The shade makes little difference to the heat. We reach a clearing. The locals have prepared us lunch. We sit at a long table. Ethnic patterned table clothes are laid out. Above us, in the trees, avocados can be seen growing. A meaty feast is brought out. Vegetarianism doesn't exist here. I have some red banana. This tastes similar to a normal banana, but much sweeter and more ripe. A man cycles up the hill, carrying a Coca-Cola crate on the back of his bicycle. Within it are much needed ice cool drinks. I pay him in Tanzanian Shillings for a bottle of pineapple Fanta. He also was selling passion fruit Fanta. Hens and other fowl walk about freely and jump/fly up to the roofs of the small huts.

Soon we leave Mto Wa Mbu behind.

The River of Mosquitoes

The next morning, we leave for the Tanzanian border. There's a crash on the main road outside of Nairobi. Chaos ensues. Order and queueing are non existent. Our bus was so very close to falling over as we tried to get around the crash. Half of the bus had to go off the road to go forward. It seriously was at a 45° angle at one stage and we were trying to balance it with ourselves. It was a huge relief to be clear of it.

We pass through tiny villages and towns on the way to Tanzania. Rather bizarrely, beauty and hair salons are some of the most frequent types of businesses we see. We pass a donkey car wash. Or perhaps it was a donkey wash for donkeys. It shall remain one of life's mysteries. We arrive at Namanga and cross the border on foot. It's 12.55pm and the African sun is high in the sky and is scorchingly hot. After visas have been issued, we drive towards Mount Longido. We stop for lunch at the base of this rocky mountain. Giant butterflies flutter about. We make our own lunch by chopping up fresh vegetables and putting together sandwiches. The locals are out to see the eating habits of passing Mzungos. The locals are beautifully dressed in colourful ethnic attire.

I would love to have taken more photographs of Africa's people. However, many expect payment for the photos you take. Stories of people not paying and getting spears thrown towards them may just be a legend. I decided not to test the theory too much. Tourists paying locals for photographs apparently encourages begging and an unhealthy dependency. After lunch we hear of traditions from our guide, MJ and how it's not unusual for men in Tanzania to have at least six wives.

Parts of Tanzania are very green. Light green, dark green, yellow and navy. We are greeted by excited waving smiling children in Arusha. We eventually arrive in Mto Wa Mbu. Translated, this means 'The River of Mosquitoes'. We set up camp here at dusk. Leeches, cockroaches and some sort of huge black slow flying insects are abundant here. I try never to harm insects, but when one of those giant black ones is flying towards you with a vengeance, a torch can be used efficiently as a baseball bat. The tent I pitched up with help from fellow travelers was cosy. It rained that night. The next morning, while having a shower, a huge butterfly with large eye patterns on it's wings, remained.

Carnivore

When I meet the Intrepid Group for the first time, I'm glad that the $820 kitty money I has been carrying had survived. The group are really friendly. Two more Irish people - Niamh and Barry - are part of it. We go to the Carnivore restaurant that night. This is inside Nairobi's national park. Traditionally, lion and other game would have been served here. Nowadays, ostrich and crocodile and other beasts are on the menu instead. The meat is roasted on Masai swords over an open fire/ pit in full view of the diners. You can eat as much as you like. Luckily, vegetarians are catered for too. The tables are outside under a canopy. African sounds chirp away in the background. It's beautifully done.

Nairobi

The hotel reminds me of a time warp. The wall paper consists of large patterned prints and is reminiscent of the seventies. I become acquainted with my mosquito net for the first time. It's important to make sure that the net itself doesn't touch your skin, as the mosquitoes can stick their heads through, but not their thoraces. I wake up early the next morning. I quickly learn that an alarm clock is not needed in Africa. A spectacular chorus breaks at dawn. I discover the balcony outside a large set of glass sliding doors which stretch the entire way across the room and from the ceiling to the floor. My bedroom is on the second floor and I can see the pool, some unusual trees and many birds that I have never seen before. I find breakfast which consists of freshly made pancakes and fresh fruit. Passion fruit, pineapple and mango.

After breakfast I sit on the balcony in my room for a while. Listening to new sounds. Breathing in new smells. I roughly sketch what I can see. In the distance large aves silhouettes can be seen soaring. I can't be sure if they're vultures or eagles. The white sky behind them ensures they stay incognito. I had booked a taxi, but it was late. I take another one instead. The name of the taxi driver eludes me, so he shall from here-forth be known as Mamello. Mamello used to work as a tour guide and taught me some Swahili along the way. We laughed at my pronunciation. We drove to the baby elephant orphanage in Nairobi National Park. It's a charity funded by donations. Each elephant has a story. Many have been rescued due to their mothers being slaughtered for the Ivory trade. We arrive just at feeding time, where the rangers hold up enormous bottles of milk for the orphan elephant calves.

A family of warthogs crosses in front of the taxi as we leave. We then go to the Giraffe centre where I hand feed giraffes and get really close to the beautiful creatures. They are such laid back calm animals. They have a lot of land to roam across which is all part of Nairobi's national park.







Mamello waits for me at each location. We had to call to three different petrol stations as the first ones were out of fuel. Along the way, he tells me tragic stories of past violence which I dare not even write here. We drive past Kibera, one of Africa's largest slums. We pass the edge of a labyrinth of alleyways, adjacent to the main road, leading into the inner urban slum. I have to be discreet about looking in it's direction at all. Taking photographs this close is neither safe nor respectful. Huts at either side of the lane-ways are made from sheets of corrugated tin. Leaning against these huts are rows of men drinking from tin cans. Shots of whiskey and methadone. Mzungo (pronounced mmm-zung-goo) is a term I'd frequently hear. It's slang for a white person. Mzungos are not welcome in Kibera according to Mamello. Seeing this slum sends a shiver down my spine.

Mamello eventually drops me off at a Masai market at the edge of Nairobi. I'm completely alone now in another world surrounded by locals. It's wonderful. Ethnic jewelry, beads, Masai carvings, African masks and bowls create a colorful sight. Two men keep trying to sell me two Masai warriors. I want to purchase these from tribes in small villages instead, but politely declining doesn't go down well. They keep following me and by the time I'm surrounded by three of them, I am somewhat intimidated. I still haggle though. The carved warriors would later find a place at either side of my computer at work. The sellers at the market are more interested in trading their goods for western items instead of money. One wanted to swop an African bracelet for my beloved black wrist band which is adorned with metal spikes and skulls.

The Adventure Begins...

Last year I spent a few weeks in Africa. I kept a journal. Much of it was written while travelling along dusty goat and pot hole filled roads. Occasionally, I was completely thrown into the air, right off the seat if the pothole had leveled up to crater status. Since this trip, my car just seems to attract goats in Ireland these days. They like throwing themselves in front of it. It's taken me a year to get around to typing this journal up. The dates are slightly out for this blog - they're mainly there just to keep it nicely organised.

I went to the airport at 7 AM. My flight was at 10. Heathrow Terminal 5 can only be described as a maze with the addition of giant escalators which rise up over five floors at a time. My last breakfast in the concrete jungle consisted of porridge smothered in strawberries, which I ate at the aptly named Giraffe restaurant. After I passed through security I stocked up on even more mosquito defence.

Sitting in the waiting area before boarding my flight, the announcements of departures to exotic locations echo out. A black Labrador sniffs it's way through the queue to the departure gate. It misses my rucksack full of bodies and drugs.

Next, I'm on the plane. Free stuff!. A blanket, headphones and more. I gaze out through the window. My first glimpse of Africa showed it to be a rather green continent. Soon, the panorama changes to the Libyan desert. Sand dunes and deep ridges reach far out to the horizon 37,000 feet below. It takes hours for the plane to break free of it. I spy through my binoculars for potential nomads, but the hostile environment is all I see. It's vastness is mesmerizing. The patterns and contours of the wind swept sands are beautiful.

As we pass over Sudan, I see the Darfur mountains in the distance. I'm glad there aren't any Janjaweed this high in the air. *hopefully*. Darkness has fallen when we get close to Nairobi. A black void appears in between thousands of tiny lights. It's the national park. Soon the plane lands. I'm really in Africa. The land my grand aunt lived in for roughly thirty years and inspired me about it since I was little. Even though Nairobi is 5,500 feet high in altitude, the night air is a wall of heat as I emerge into the African summer. I eventually get through the VISA queue (seriously - never sit at the back of the plane if you don't have a VISA!!). However, time queuing was worth it for this rather last minute trip to Africa. I get a Taxi to the Hotel Milimani.