Sunday November 25th
Cliff’s stay, although very welcome, was short, so after a
YMCA breakfast he and Karim were ready to set off soon after 10 am. I realised that Taxi was another page in my
‘I Spy’ book and decided to get a lift into town when they went. This only leaves the page with ‘Back of a
lorry’ on so I live in hope. I pointed
out the height of the school way above us as we went past the junction, and
then we entered Pangani. At least I
would be able to get some of the jobs done that my canine companion had prevented
me doing yesterday.
 |
| Me, Cliff and Karim |
As we rounded the corner that lead to the ferry we were met
by a policeman walking in front of a parade of Muslims surrounding a car with
loudspeakers mounted on the roof and spread completely across the road, as they
approached us. The policeman said that
it was a demonstration and we took a quick detour down a side street to the
river. I asked my students the following
day and they informed me that it was in fact a procession to mark some
historical date relating to Mohammed and the policeman’s information had
obviously lost something in translation.
I got out of the car, as Cliff went to buy the tickets they
needed for the river crossing, and thankfully checked my pockets before I left
them to find that I had rushed out without my wallet. I blanched at the thought of how my bruised
feet would have coped with another walk home if I hadn’t realised my omission,
and ‘borrowed’ a 10 000 shillingi note
from Cliff.
I needed to buy a new phone, which was now no longer in the
frame, but at least I would be able to get my hair cut so that it would have
some chance of recovery before I saw Chez in a fortnight. I limped up to the stationers and sat on the,
now familiar, niche in his wall for a breather and then finally entered the
market square.
A hair cut for Tsh 2 000 and I had plenty left for a bottle
of water and, thankfully a Daladala home.
Incidentally I have found out from my colleague at school, Mr Ndetele,
the origin of the name given to these minibuses. There is a Tsh 50 coin in circulation that,
in size, looks like our old 3d bit but has the curved heptagon shape of the 50p
piece. This, I am told, was nicknamed a
‘dala’ and in Dar es Salaam used to be the standard fare for a journey on one
of these buses. The conductor, as the
bus stopped to pick up passengers, would call out ‘dala dala’, implying that if
you’ve got the money, on you get. “Not many people know that.”
As I arrived home I finally get to the reason for the title
of today’s offering. In the grounds of
the YMCA we have quite a few mango trees.
In the picture below you can possibly make out some fruits hanging just
above the spike of the smaller sapling.
If we can keep the monkeys off them, which Deo achieves with
a catapult (‘manati’) and a supply of
pebbles, these are an excellent addition at the end of either breakfast or
dinner. A large one had just fallen so
Eva collected this to wash and prepare for my dessert and then saw another,
still hanging, that was obviously large enough to be quite ripe. With no more ado, she bent, picked up a small
rock and, from about 10m away, brought the fruit down with one throw. She can be in my rounders’ team any day. An
excellent shot!
Having joined Cliff and Karim the previous evening in what I
was told was an excellent meal of freshly caught fish, tonight was my night for
‘kuku’ which certainly went down well with juicy mango for afters.
Baadaye
No comments:
Post a Comment