leaving jinja

Thursday night, micah and morgan had their wedding party, catered by tony’s uncle (I think). They met at the orphanage, knew at first sight that they would get married (this from both of them), dated for 1.5 weeks, and got a phone pastor (micah’s dad) to tie the knot. Apparently, morgan (who has a good relationship with god) really hated africa when she first came, prayed, and heard a voice clearly tell her, “don’t go home, I’ve got so much more for you here.” How’s that for spirituality?

micah and morgan, pre-electricity ruma and jinja

The party featured some of the best beans I’ve ever tasted (sorry mom) and big chunks of steak. I bought a round of neon green sambuca (called zappa in jinja), and immediately regretted it. That stuff goes down vile. When we first arrived, the power was out, and mark had lit candles everywhere. Very romantic, but not so good for partying into the night. Ppl were just about the break out the acoustic music (someone had a guitar, and I had just bought a drum in town), when mama betty announced the cake, which elicited a round of speeches and a long kiss between the newly weds. As soon as they kissed, the power came back on! Uncanny! After this, the night slowed down a bit. Erika and I spent most of it shooting pool and avoiding unwanted attention from guys (matthew insisted that he was in love with Erika after 2 nights of shooting pool together. He kept asking my permission to take her back to his place like I was her chaperone or something). We stayed up till 3am not doing very much, and then went to wind down in nash’s room over a silly movie. Then I did what I do best and fell asleep on his futon.

attempts to jam ruma and jinja

The next morning, we got up early for 1 last kayaking session. We both remembered how to roll, and after a couple of practices, Roberto took us 1 at a time to some class 2 rapids. Erika went first, so I stayed with bosco, who taught me how to handroll in the black kayak (longer, thinner, easier than the trick ones). I got it after a couple of tries, and spent the rest of the time swimming and lazing on the rocks. Bosco spent the rest of the time carving a turtle into his inner thigh with a jagged piece of rock. When I got back and asked him if it hurt, he said yes and grinned sheepishly. That bosco.

secret beach ruma and jinja

secret beach again ruma and jinja

secret beach 3 ruma and jinja

getting ready for the rapids ruma and jinja

bosco, handrolling ruma and jinja

bosco, handrolling ruma and jinja

bosco's artwork ruma and jinja

Then it was my turn in the rapids. Paddling up to them was a chore. I’d look down for a second to adjust my hand positions or bail water or something, and when I looked up, it was like the whole world had moved back. Have you had that experience where someone moves closer to you in the exact moment when you blink? And then you look up and are like WHOA! Yeah, same. Or I expect it’s what electroshock therapy is like. You wake up, and the world has slipped into a familiar but different place (I’ve just finished reading zen and the art of motorcycle maintenance). Once in the rapids, keeping balanced was hard. If the current is coming at you from the left, you’re supposed to tilt the kayak to the right, which is completely counterintuitive for me. I would’ve thought that you would want to lean into the current so that it can’t push you the other way. Shows what I know. Anyways, I got rolled twice. The first time, I managed to roll myself back upright, but the second time, I got stuck in a slight eddy and panicked b/c why can’t I stop spinning? and ended up swimming. it turned out to be a good decision, since roberto was supposed to save me with his kayak, but he was busy bailing water when i went under, so he was nowhere near me. even after the 2.5 tries, he was about 15m away when i bobbed up. Oh well. swim or death? Cake pls…

erika returns ruma and jinja

my practice roll ruma and jinja

After running a few errands in town, we headed back to NRE to pack and eat a last toasted sandwich (they do really good tuna melts). Getting on the boda boda (motorcycle taxi) with my big bag, small bag, and drum was a balancing act. After bouncing our way to the bus stop, I realize that one of my downhill sandals (which I had strapped to my bag) had fallen off during the ride. I offer the boda USH1000 more if he can find my sandal, and he agrees. i wasn’t too hopeful, since the ride was a long one, and USH1000 isn’t much incentive, so I was gleeful when he turned up with it. And THEN, matthew turns up with a kayaking shirt for me! I had told him the night before that I wanted one, and he promised to bring it to me, but I thought he was mostly using it as a lure to seduce Erika (“I have to work tomorrow so I may not have time to bring you the shirt, so she should just come back with me now to get it…and then she can bring it to you tomorrow morning”). NB boys, if you want to sleep with a girl, don’t offer a free shirt to her friend. Still, I guess matthew thought I had some weird control over Erika, like her pimp. Sweet! Mzungu for sale…will take payment in cows, crack, or kayaking shirts.

The next 24 uneventful hours were spent on an akamba bus (except for one nosy joe who told me that I look good asleep…ALWAYS a creepy opener. Once upon a time, a guy on a hk flight also thought I was a sexy sleeper…so maybe it’s MY problem, but I hope not…I spend a lot of time asleep…and then he commented on how “sensible” my shoes were, and how he hoped his 17 yr old daughter would get a pair). We had the good fortune to arrive in moshi the night before the Kilimanjaro marathon. That is to say, EVERY hotel in town was full. We finally found a local guesthouse with the help of mr matata (he was trying to sell us a kili trek for USD970…which we eventually rejected b/c that is totally not enough money to pay the USD740 of park fees, pay the USD8 per day per porter, guide, etc, and still feed us). The guesthouse doesn’t have any English anywhere. It’s also missing sheets, blankets, toilet seat. At least it has a toilet? The shower wasn’t too bad either. After 24 hours on a bus, any bed would do. Today, we finally booked a kili trip with kessy brothers. I stumbled on them unexpectedly, and heard some good recommendations from other mzungus, plus internet praise. We’re paying USD1115 for a 7 day machambe route trip (they call this the whiskey route, as opposed to the marangue coca-cola route, I think b/c it has more up/downs, but someone told me it’s b/c you camp instead of lodge).

Also, Erika and I are both getting better at ignoring ppl who try for our attention by 1)hissing 2)yelling konichiwa 3)grabbing our arms. At least Tanzanians are more savvy about my American-ness. I’ve gotten some dubious looks when I tell ppl that I’m Chinese (a tactic I use to thwart marriage proposals and to inspire fear). I’ve even gotten a couple ppl tell me that I don’t speak like a Chinese person. They can tell I’ve got an American accent! Amazing. Erika is getting more mistaken identity trouble though. Ppl think she’s European or Canadian. I guess it’s a safer bet since those ppl get insulted if you think they’re American, but we don’t the other way around.

After booking our trip, we had a very good lunch of rice, beans, greens, and meat at a local place for TSH3000 each. They use a lot of coconut milk in their cooking here, which is a-ok with me. the night before, we ate at indoitaliano (hey mambo! Indoitaliano…) for around TSH8000 each, but the food wasn’t nearly as good (both the arrabiata and the curry chicken falsely claimed to be spicy—we’re having real trouble finding spicy food in Africa outside of the sprig of peppers that paul picked us (and they weren’t even pickled)).

Wish us luck on our trek tomorrow!