As this leg of cycling in East Africa – to Arusha – was a manageable distance of 60 odd miles, there didn’t seem to be any rush and just as well given the road conditions. The landscape was lovely with some dramatic hills, or even perhaps some mountains around and yet this was tempered by a strong headwind which appeared in the afternoon (I later became accustomed to showers and strong winds in the afternoons at this time of year). I couldn’t help thinking I should be enjoying it more than I was.
Every now and again I’d see some little kids on the side of the road waving, shouting and running alongside. Sometimes I’d stop to say hello and sometimes because I felt so sorry for them, running for miles and becoming exhausted. Plus they’d often be in bare feet which made me wince after a bit – how do they manage so well? If any were persistent in begging something from me and this is often the case, I’d give them a vitamin pill each which they were delighted about, thinking it was some delicious sweet. Generally they were simply astonished at the sight of a white man cycling through their part of Africa, something they might not have seen before.
After a while I found I’d drunk had my water and was feeling pretty dry with another hour’s cycling to do. So when the opportunity to stop at a roadside shack came up, I thought I’d see what water might be available as I’d not seen anything for a while. It was, quite literally, a single small room, really ramshackle and looked as if it was about to blow over. Inside dark and smokey with lots of voices which suddenly went silent as I stepped in. Someone was sent to get some water for me but not from one of the odd containers and general rubbish outside but instead from a nearby well. About 10 minutes later this young lad came back in, panting, drenched with sweat and proudly handed me a glass of muddy water. I was grateful and found I had a plate of food in front of me too.
This food was, I was to discover later on, my staple diet. Rice, gravel, banana and a suspicious piece of meat. I groan now at the thought of this, but it is fair to say this fuelled me very well! Unsurprisingly I was the centre of attention in this little shack with the staff and customers as I was asked about England and why I would ever want to cycle in their country. Other questions included the English elephant population and how the Queen is keeping nowadays.
It was late as I freewheeled into Arusha and while the Police station option had served me well, I fancied a different kind of accommodation i.e. a hotel. Now when I say “hotel” I wasn’t thinking of anything fancy, just a room with a bed and space for my bike. Perhaps a shower or a bath would add a touch of luxury. Everywhere I went was full and it turned out there was some convention taking place and there was a huge influx of guests in the town. Soon it was dark and I was weary, slightly concerned as I was getting hungry, tired, disorientated and still with nowhere to go. Enough was enough, I thought I’d ask at the Police station. Unlike their Kenyan colleagues, those officers in Arusha were aggressive and threatening and told me, in no uncertain terms, that I would be sleeping in a locked cell if they found me sleeping rough anywhere. This included pitching my tent anywhere.
The officers pointed me towards the “official” hotel, which really was the expensive hotel in town and they too were full. An accommodating receptionist said she’s see what she could do and I found myself sharing a double room with a tourist from Germany. He was entertaining and spoke excellent English, so I felt fairly safe there. Next day he was gone.
A long soak in the bath was worth taking, given the expense and it was then I could see my odd-looking sun tan was starting to become established. The bath was almost like a small swimming pool and finally I could relax in a nice secure place. My Tanzanian adventure had begun…..
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