Kilimanjaros by the Kilombero

We piled into a bus after tea and drove down to the riverbank. We got out of the bus. There was a river. It seemed like it might be a rather boring excursion.

But then some banana boats came floating down, and few of us decided to hop in and have them take us across to the other side, hoping that we wouldn't run into any killer hippos on the way. (Apparently if you are bitten by a hippo, the resulting wounds are so bad that even if you survive, you're inevitably going to end up with an amputation.)

We did make it across, with much laughter and jokes about last wills. On the other side we scrambled up the embankment to a little collection of stalls selling fried river fish and roasted bananas. Some of the men decided to get beers and when we ducked into a stall to buy bottles, the boy showed us around to a sitting area behind the stall, furnished with reed chairs and low tables, with a view of course of the river. We drank cold Kilimanjaros and Safaris. (You can also actually order warm beer here, but we decided against it.) People told nerdy health jokes.

The other day I was talking to a friend about my collection of happy memories, places I return to in my head when I need to crawl into a comforting space, places that remind me of being at peace with myself and the world, places where I have felt deeply grounded and connected and yet free. Ifakara is a strong new contender for the collection.

Eventually we got a call from people on the other side, who said it was time to head back. One of the docs had enough time to get a konyagi, the local fire water, sold in plastic packets. We waited for the ferry, and took it back across, where a wedding party was dancing.

The sun sets dramatically in Africa, an orange ball of fire that drops out of the sky, without the lingering light like in places further from the equator. Tipsy and happy we piled back into the bus, back to campus for supper.