Buses, mountains, Bible teaching and a chicken!

The Super Feo bus left promptly at 6am. I dozed on and off during the five-hour journey to Njombe, as did the toddler on his mum’s lap next to me. Sometimes his head was on my lap as he slept, which was both cute and slightly annoying, as space was limited enough as it was. On arrival at Njombe’s bus stand, I headed straight for the toilets and paid my 300 shillings fee (less than 10p) to the lady who sits there taking toilet money all day. It’s always a little tricky managing my laptop bag in these squat toilets, as there are no hooks on the doors and the floor is always wet. No toilet paper is provided, so I have to make sure I have got my own essential supply out of my bag in advance, otherwise I’d lose my balance trying to get it out while squatting!

I thought I would miss the morning bus to Ludewa, but it was late arriving in Njombe due to undergoing some vehicle maintenance, so I was able to catch it after all. I was also pleased to find out that it would go all the way through to Luilo, the village I was going to for the workshop, so I wouldn’t have to stay overnight in Ludewa. The first two hours from Njombe were on a rough dirt road – the heat, dust and rattling windows did not help my headache. Then there was the sweet relief of some tarmac for a while, before hitting more dirt road. We arrived in Ludewa about five hours later, at 4.45pm, where we waited for another hour while they did some more vehicle maintenance. The delay was frustrating, but at least it gave me a chance to stand outside, giving my body a break from the cramped seating position on the bus. Most of the passengers got off at Ludewa, so for the last leg of the journey I had no-one sitting next to me, which gave me space to spread out a bit, making it much more comfortable. I was dropped off at the bottom of the driveway to the guesthouse at 7pm. My big rucksack, which had been stored under the bus, was thick with dust. Knowing this would happen, I had put a cover on it, so thankfully everything inside remained dust free.

In Ludewa, waiting to get back on the bus

My colleague, Faraja, had arrived the previous day, coming early in order to make sure that everything would be ready for the workshop. Faraja is one of two translators working on translating the Scriptures into their Manda language. Several Scripture books have now been printed in Manda, including Genesis. I had come to teach the big story of the Bible, focusing especially on the early parts of the story in Genesis, as well as what can be found in another couple of books translated into Manda: The Life of Moses (this is direct Scripture – a compilation of verses from Exodus to Deuteronomy that tell the story of Moses’ life) and The Big Story of the Bible (a book I wrote in Swahili that briefly narrates the Bible’s story and helps the reader see how the Old Testament points us to Jesus).

After being shown to my room, I ordered myself chipsi mayai (a chip omelette), had a much needed wash, and enjoyed eating my dinner while doing a puzzle (I always take a puzzle book on trips), occasionally interrupted by trying to kill mosquitoes. Despite spraying my room, the mosquitoes continued to buzz around, though in a slightly dopey fashion! I hit the hay early, tucking the mosquito net in as securely around the bed as I could, and putting in my ear plugs to try and ensure a good night’s sleep. In spite of extremely lumpy pillows and a sagging mattress, I slept well and felt refreshed when I woke the next morning.

Faraja and I walked to the Anglican church, while a motorbike transported the box of books and resources for the workshop so that it was ready and waiting for us by the time we arrived. Last time I was here they were building a new church, and this time we were in the new building, dwarfing the previous little church beside it. While no expense seemed to have been spared on the nicely tiled floor, the seats were still rickety wooden benches, though a couple of nice plastic chairs were brought for Faraja and me to use. We eventually got off to a disappointing start, with just seven participants out of the hoped for thirty. A few more trickled in later, so that in total we had eleven, all of whom were from Anglican churches (from three different villages), except one who was from Assemblies of God. I recognised a few of the faces from the last workshop, which had focused on the gospel of Luke. After various introductory matters, Faraja conducted a short literacy lesson, and I was impressed to find that most of them could read Manda pretty well. One pastor wasn’t Manda, but even he tried to read, receiving hearty applause for his attempts. Although he read fairly well, he’d understood very little of what he’d read! His language of Pangwa is quite different, even though the Manda and Pangwa language areas border each other.

Ready and waiting for participants to arrive

After the Manda literacy lesson, we launched into considering the big story of the Bible, getting as far as the tower of Babel before calling it a day. Faraja and I headed back to the guesthouse along the sandy paths, where I relaxed with a book for a short while before heading out for a brisk walk along the road towards the setting sun. I’d asked for some hot water to be prepared for me so that I could have a wash when I got back from my walk, and sometime later it was brought to my door. It felt good to wash the previous day’s travel dust out of my hair! I put on a long-sleeved top, long trousers and socks for the evening, to protect myself from the pesky mosquitoes. Small they may be, but they are professional aggravators and experts at escaping swatting hands, though not all of them managed to get away!

Evening walk

After repairing a couple of holes in my mosquito net, I climbed into bed and settled down to read for a bit, only to find the music coming from the bar at the end of the corridor to be too loud to let me rest. I went and asked the girl working in the kitchen to turn the music down and went back to bed. A while later, the music was no quieter, so I went back again. This time I encountered the owner of the guest house, and my words had more effect, and with the help of earplugs I was able to fall asleep.

The second day of the workshop passed much as the first had done, with the same faithful few participants plus one newcomer. We looked at the covenant God made with Abraham and continued the story through as far as Mount Sinai and the giving of the law. Participants made a valiant effort to stay engaged, but I struggled to maintain energy into the afternoon. We were covering a lot of material, a bit too much for some of them who struggled to navigate their way quickly around the Bible, and with the temperature reaching nearly 28C in the church (which was thankfully somewhat cooler than it was outside) it was no wonder that some of us felt sleepy! Half a dozen children turned up at the end of the day (I’d hoped for more) for a time of games, a bit of reading in Manda and a song. For the reading exercise, we used a specially made ‘big book’ containing a short account of the creation story. It was A3 sized, with just a few words in a big font on each page, so that even at some distance the children could still all read it. I was re-energised by the fun of being with the children and seeing how quickly they picked up reading Manda, as well as by the cooler evening air.

Faraja teaches children to read using the 'big book'

The final day of the workshop proceeded much as the others had done, picking up the story at Mount Sinai, learning about the tabernacle, and moving swiftly on to King David, the prophets, the exile and return and waiting for the Messiah. We had particular fun acting out the story of Samuel anointing David to be king. One of the participants had brought a young child with her, and the pastor acting Jesse decided to make this wee girl David! She looked adorable wrapped in cloth like a shepherd and carrying her shepherd’s stick, but it all got a bit too much for her when I (as Samuel) wanted to anoint her!

Participants read Manda Scripture portions

If nothing else, participants seemed to take away from the workshop a deeper understanding of the love of God shown through his constant work to restore the relationship between God and mankind. Although Faraja and I felt somewhat discouraged by how things had gone, I pray that God may take my feeble attempts to feed his sheep and multiply them to feed many – the stories of the feeding of the 5000 and the 4000 came up in my quiet times during the week, which were an encouragement to me! On the plus side, nearly all the participants had bought the three Manda books we’d used during the workshop (we sold the set on offer for just 2000/-, which is about 60p), and I hope and pray that they will continue to be read. I felt weary as we headed back to the guest house. It was good to spend some time in prayer, to take a short walk, to debrief a bit with Faraja, and to watch a Keswick Convention evening celebration (surprisingly the phone network was strong enough) while doing some cross stitch.

The next day, Saturday, I headed down to the centre of the village to wait for the bus. I intentionally chose to wait by a little wooden kiosk, painted sky blue, which I knew was owned by one of the ladies from the workshop. After a while, she arrived and opened up for the day, arranging her papaya and hanging up her bananas for sale. She also had a few Manda books propped up on a shelf, alongside a few stationery supplies. She had very kindly given Faraja and me a papaya from her shop on Thursday. It was one of those gifts where you just couldn’t say no, even though Faraja doesn’t like papaya and I’m not particularly keen on them either! I ate some of it for breakfast, but gave the rest to the guest house staff. It was comforting to have a familiar, friendly face close by (Faraja had travelled onto another village to follow up a workshop they’d done there a couple of months ago), someone I could turn to if needed.

Waiting for the bus in the village centre

An elderly lady in a pair of gold rimmed spectacles approached and struck up a slightly confused conversation with me. The spectacles particularly stood out to me, as it’s far from common to find older folk with glasses. Only one person in the workshop wore glasses, though a couple of others clearly needed them as they couldn’t read the text in the Manda books, despite the good-sized, clear font. The only way to get their eyes tested and buy glasses would be to go to Njombe and all the costs involved would probably be more than most of them are either able or willing to pay. As they don’t do a lot of reading, they probably don’t see it as a priority.

The bus arrived about 10.30am and after being rattled around for an hour and a half, I arrived in Ludewa, where one of my Kisi colleagues, Stanslaus, was waiting for me. Stanslaus and Claudia are the two Kisi translators, and together we would be travelling to the Kisi village of Nkwimbili to conduct the same workshop I’d just done in the Manda language area. We walked to the guest house we always use, so that we could wait in comfort in their reception area for Claudia’s arrival. First we had to phone the local immigration office to let them know I was there, as they are very sensitive to foreigners in this area, and an officer soon arrived and inspected my passport. Unfortunately, there have been problems with the immigration office computer systems, which means I have been living in Tanzania without an official residence permit for several months. As I have got a work permit, and the fault isn’t on my side, it shouldn’t have been a problem, but not for the first time, it created issues. However, after the officer had phoned his boss, he accepted the situation, took photos of my passport, and approved me for travel.

After the officer left, I headed off to find some lunch and settled on my usual favourite travel food of chipsi mayai. I also visited the market to pick up some fresh food supplies for the coming days, as the village we were going to wouldn’t have anything available for my usual snacky evening tea. As Ludewa doesn’t receive many white visitors, I felt variously awkward, annoyed or amused by the comments I could hear around me as I walked past. A new one for me was hearing some kids saying, “She has white hair, like an albino, but she’s an mzungu!” They think I can’t understand, not realising that I can speak Swahili! (mzungu – a white person)

The rest of the afternoon was spent sitting around waiting, not quite sure when Claudia would turn up. As soon as she arrived, we started the journey down to Lupingu, the village by Lake Nyasa (aka Lake Malawi) where we would spend the night. The driver, me and my two colleagues, and a Catholic priest, drove slowly down the rough, steep mountain road, taking us about two hours to drive what they said was about 35km. The guest house we usually stay in turned out to only have one room available, as did the next guest house, so we tried the Catholic Church Mission Centre, whose lovely red-brick buildings were built about 100 years ago. They kindly welcomed me to stay, while my two colleagues went back to the guest houses. I was given a comfortable room and water to drink and even offered food, and not charged a penny.

Catholic Church Mission Centre

At 7am the next morning, Sunday, I was ready and waiting for my colleagues, to begin our walk up the mountain to get to the village of Nkwimbili, which is only accessible by foot. They arrived with two girls (I would estimate they were in their late teens) who had come down the mountain early in the morning ready to help us with our luggage, in particular my big rucksack and a box of books. I put the rucksack on the girl’s back and showed her how to fasten it, and off we set. We hadn’t gone far before she gave up on this strange way of carrying luggage and instead put it on her head! I felt bad, as I realised it was proving an uncomfortable load for her to carry, being hard to balance and an awkward shape. At some point, she paused to rest and I took out a few of the heavier items that were small enough to put into my laptop bag, to hopefully make it a bit easier for her, as she had refused my offer to let me carry the rucksack for a while.

Despite all the walking and running I do, I had been nervous about our walk to Nkwimbili. I was worried about how steep it would be and whether I’d struggle to climb wearing a skirt and carrying a heavyish bag, but all the exercise I do had prepared me well, and I had no problems as we slowly made our way up. The scenery was beautiful, though my eyes were often focused on the path, which was narrow, with loose sandy soil, occasional rocks and some steep sections. Remarkably, the girls were just wearing flip-flops, and I could see that one of the shoes was held together with a rubber band. Claudia also wore a pair of what I considered highly unsuitable sandals, but she insisted she felt more comfortable in those than she would in trainers. We met a number of people on their way down the mountain, invariably carrying baskets of green bananas or other burdens on their heads, presumably taking them to sell.

Trekking up the hill (Claudia, followed by the two girls, followed by Stanslaus)

After just under a couple of hours of walking, we reached houses, but it turned out there was still some distance to go to where we would be staying, as the path skirted around the side of the mountains to avoid dropping sharply down into the deep, narrow valleys. Houses were dotted around here and there, and we also passed the Catholic church, where we’d be holding the workshop. We eventually reached the primary school and the teachers’ houses where Claudia and I were kindly being hosted by a teacher and his family, as there are no guest houses in the village. Only part of the village has electricity, and Claudia had asked that accommodation be found for us on the side with power, so I was thankful to have a way to keep my phone and computer charged. However, the phone network was a problem. I have a dual-SIM phone, and one line didn’t work at all, while the other only started working around noon, once the solar-powered phone towers had charged up enough to get going, and even then it only worked sporadically.

The home we stayed in

The afternoon passed quietly, occasionally chatting, playing a game with the teacher’s children, doing some cross-stitch, going for a short walk etc. To be honest, I was a little bored and not quite sure what to do with myself. I’m not very good at just sitting around! Claudia looked content enough, sitting there looking at her phone, and occasionally wandering off to make phonecalls. In the evening I sat in the lounge, where the one light bulb was, and tapped away on my computer while the children watched TV. It felt somewhat incongruous to hear BBC CBeebies emanating from the TV in this remote Tanzanian village!

Beautiful views from Nkwimbili

Once the TV was turned off and the children had gone to bed, it was blissfully quiet, with the only sounds being insects and the occasional dog barking. My sleep was less bliss-like. I was cold (there was no blanket) and had to keep adding layers as the wind blew hard against the wooden shutters of the window, frequently blowing one of them open. I eventually managed to fall asleep wearing socks, leggings, t-shirt, sweater and a coat, with the bed sheet pulled up over my head, and with other clothes folded up to be a pillow. In the morning I found the temperature was about 19C, but it had definitely felt colder than that in the night due to the wind.

My bedroom

Workshop participants had been told that we’d start at 8am. When Claudia and I rocked up about 8.15am, I was amazed to find a good number of them already there, and we didn’t have to wait too long before all twenty-five had arrived. It quickly became clear that, with a few exceptions, their ability to read Kisi was limited and their knowledge of the Bible was very poor. Only two people had brought Swahili Bibles with them, though a good number had brought their Kisi books that they bought from the last workshop. They showed an obvious desire to learn, and I tried to take things slowly and keep the teaching as simple as possible as we began our journey through the Bible’s story.

Studying Genesis

In the evening I went for a short walk, enjoying the sunset ahead, the light shimmering across the lake down below to my left and the awesome mountains rising above the village to my right. People called out friendly greetings as I walked past – it was impossible not to attract attention, as the village rarely receives guests, yet alone white ones, so I was something of a curiosity. Due to the way the mountains and valleys lie, it was impossible to walk very far without reaching dead ends and needing to turn around. Houses are built along ridges, and down the sides of hills, but as soon as the sides became too steep or a ridge ends, the paths also end, so I didn’t get very far! When I got back, the mother of the home we were staying in had prepared some hot water, so I was able to bathe and wash my hair in the small brick outhouse, before settling down for the evening.

Evening walk

The next day, Tuesday, went well, with everyone participating attentively and with some good questions being asked, though I had to be careful in how I answered a question about priests, considering the different church denominations represented (Catholic, Seventh Day Adventist and Church of the Apostles). We were treated to tender goat meat stew for lunch, with the usual greens and ugali or rice. The ugali in the Kisi area is frequently made from fermented cassava rather than maize – I tasted it once, and I can’t honestly say that I enjoyed it, and it’s something your stomach needs to get used to, so unsurprisingly I opted for rice.

Drying fermented cassava, so that it can be ground into flour

The next morning school children had been put to work on some extra-curricular activities around the house! These included sweeping, building and processing the cassava that had been soaking in water for a few days, giving off a distinctive smell of fermentation. Teaching in a village seems to come with certain perks – free labour! The last day of the workshop went well, with people clearly getting the importance of reading the Bible, and I can only pray that they follow through with their expressed desire to read the Bible more and to teach others to do the same. We then had fun with the one hundred plus children who turned up for a short session, informed by their schoolteachers to come along. We played “Simon says” with them, first in Swahili and then in Kisi, and then got them reading the story of creation, using a ‘big book’ like I had in Luilo. They did amazingly well at reading Kisi – they’re quicker to learn and more confident than many adults! They accompanied us back to the house, proudly carrying the box of resources and my bag as they chatted away together in Kisi.

Claudia and I with the host family's children (mum is standing in the doorway)

On Thursday morning the household was up early, including the two boys, whose parents had tasked them with accompanying us down the mountain to help carry our luggage, even though they were only about 9 and 12 years old. We were incredibly touched by their kindness – they had been welcoming from day one, with relaxed but thoughtful hospitality that made one feel free and at home, and they didn’t want any payment (though we did give them a little something). The children were also tasked with picking up a few things from the village we were descending to, which was holding its monthly market that day. We set off at 7.15am, with one boy carrying the now much lighter box that had just a handful of books in it and some teaching resources, and the other carrying my laptop bag, which I had tried to keep as light as possible. I carried my big rucksack. An elderly lady gifted us with a chicken, so Claudia and I took it in turns to carry it, wrapped in a sack I’d found lying around, with it’s head peeping out. Thankfully it was a very calm bird and quite small. My legs felt increasingly shaky as we traipsed down the steep path, having to tread carefully to avoid slipping. I did slip at one point, and only just managed to keep from sliding down the steep mountain side covered in dry grass and stubby bushes. Loaded down with my rucksack, it was hard to stand up and get back on the path, as there was nothing I could get a grip on to help me regain my balance. It was with relief that we finally reached the bottom – my legs definitely preferred the climb up to coming back down, though the children had no problems and patiently waited for us oldies! I remember those days of thinking the downhills were fun and not understanding why my parents didn’t enjoy them. Now I get it!

Heading down (the child at the back was another child from the village who caught up with us at some point, carrying a big sack on his head)

We waded through the refreshingly cool river, walked past the vendors setting up their market stalls and said goodbye to the children there, so that they could fulfil their chores before heading back. Claudia and I continued the final short stretch to where the car was waiting for us that would take us up the steep mountain road to Ludewa. As I felt uncomfortably damp in my sweaty top, Claudia asked someone if I could use their house to get changed. I felt much refreshed after putting on a clean top, washing my hands and face in the lake, gulping down some cool water and switching my sorry-looking trainers for a pair of sandals. I chomped on some boiled maize as we began the journey up the mountain road, arriving in Ludewa with enough time to find something to eat (freshly cooked chipsi mayai for me) before catching the next bus to Njombe, which left at 12.30pm.

Claudia’s hair gradually turned more grey as the dust from the road made its way into the bus and onto her hair. My hair felt thick with dust too, but at least my hair colour meant you couldn’t actually see how dirty it was! We arrived in Njombe, got some advice on buses for the next morning, walked ten minutes to the Ufunuo Lodge that I always use, and settled the chicken in a storeroom. We ate rice, greens and beef for dinner, at a café by the lodge, while we waited for the water heaters to our rooms to get to work so that we could get rid of the travel grime. Much as I like the guest house for its nicely furnished, low-priced rooms (less than £5 per night), its good location and friendly attendant, my room would have benefited from a little bit of attention! There was no drainage pipe from the sink, just a hole, and the bedroom light didn’t work!

I woke the bleary-eyed guest house attendant at 5.30am, so she could let us out for the short walk back to the bus stand. As soon as we boarded the bus, it set off. We were the only two passengers, but we soon picked up more en route. It would have taken less than five hours to get home by car, but by using the bus, followed by a very uncomfortable ride in an overcrowded daladala (minibus), and then a ten-minute walk, it took nearly eight hours. But we made it in one piece, and the chicken did too!

Off to Tanzania's capital to train Sunday school teachers

Not all my trips involve being squeezed between an excessive number of passengers on a rickety bus or staying in guest houses that would benefit from some DIY. My journey to Dodoma was conducted in comparative luxury on a smart Shabiby coach, which even had a toilet and air conditioning that worked. Recognising that there were a couple of non-Tanzanians on the bus, the conductor gave announcements in both Swahili and English, which I thought was very considerate, even if I did find the Swahili easier to understand! The announcements included asking everyone to pause for a moment to pray (to the god of whichever faith you follow) for the journey ahead, which I can’t imagine ever happening on coaches in Britain!

We'd only been travelling fifteen minutes or so when we stopped
to fill up a tyre with air at this roadside puncture repair shop

The bus journey was long, 11 hours 20 minutes, but uneventful, passing through lush green scenery, as the rainy season is only just coming to an end. At some point I got into conversation with the man sitting next to me, who asked questions I have never heard from a Tanzanian before. After telling him what I do, he asked, “Why do you believe in God?” Most Tanzanians would consider themselves either Christian or Muslim, so to meet with someone who openly questioned the existence of God came as something of a surprise. I stumbled over my explanation, especially as I was talking in Swahili, but nevertheless was happy to be able to share with him why I believe God exists, starting with the wonder of the created world and also sharing about Jesus being a real person in history. More questions followed, which weren’t easy to answer, but I can only pray that the few seeds sown by my clumsy mouth might yet go on to take root. After talking about God, conversation moved onto nutrition, grey hair (he thought I was in my sixties because of my hair colour!!), the concept of supermarket monopoly (he was surprised to discover how food is cheaper for us in supermarkets compared to small independent shops, whereas here it is usually the other way round) and other random questions about life in England. In fact, it was quite hard to stop him talking when I reached a point of needing some time out with my own thoughts and a good book!

Michelle and Nicholle, two American sisters (literally sisters) who work in our office in Dodoma, had kindly invited me to stay with them. While I waited a few minutes for Nicholle to pick me up from the bus stand in Dodoma, I bought a nice-looking bunch of green grapes. The Dodoma region has many vineyards, and the vendors were selling both white and black grapes and also large plastic containers of wine. I think it’s the first time I’ve bought white grapes in Tanzania, as in Mbeya the only ones available are very expensive imported ones, though black grapes come from Dodoma when they are in season. The grapes were sweet, though I have been spoilt by seedless grapes in England, so I found the pips annoying!

A beautiful rainbow graced the skies as I waited at the bus stand and
chatted with the women selling grapes and wine

From the bus stand, we went straight to a restaurant in town to meet up with an American couple, who would be leaving one day later to go to the States, and a Dutch guy, who had been with our project in Mbeya the previous week and had now come to work with the Burunge language Bible translation team in Dodoma for a week. The restaurant proved to have good service and an extensive menu, with particularly good Indian food. I have to admit that our experience there was better than anything I have experienced in Mbeya restaurants! Most restaurants in Mbeya are attached to hotels, with a few exceptions that I would describe as cafés rather than restaurants. However, this place in Dodoma was a proper restaurant, and even the brownie I decided to try for dessert was delicious. A nice treat all round, including the company.

I was glad to get to bed after a day of sitting and take the pressure off my derriere! I slept pretty well, with cool air coming through my open window and the sound of insects chirruping loudly outside. The next morning, after a walk in which I realised I hadn’t quite got my bearings yet and ended up doing twice the distance I’d planned on, I headed to the office, which is just round the corner from where I was staying. I had come to Dodoma to facilitate two workshops for Sunday school teachers, the first being for teachers from the Burunge language area and the second for teachers from the Rangi language area. A set of fourteen illustrated Bible story books had been printed, with the stories written in both Swahili and either Burunge or Rangi, and the goal of the workshops was to train the teachers in how to plan and deliver Sunday school lessons that would use those books. The workshops would include practising reading their language, learning different ways to make a Sunday school lesson engaging and memorable, and learning how to plan a class from beginning to end.

My visual aid for how to plan out a Sunday school lesson 

I had arrived in Dodoma a day early, so that I would have time to sit with a Tanzanian colleague there, Magdalena, to help her prepare to teach some parts of the workshops, as we’d like to see her being able train Sunday school teachers herself in the future. She has sat in on my teaching in the past, so now it was time for her to actually do some of the teaching herself. I’d done my best to prepare teaching notes for her to use in Swahili as a guide. However, she spent the first half of the morning phoning around the participants to check who was coming and and then later she had to go to the bank to get the money needed to run the workshop, so we didn’t have quite as much time together as originally planned. Incidentally, on my arrival at the office, a bird chose my foot and dress as the target for its poop! Amidst much laughter, our Tanzanian colleagues insisted it was a blessing, but I think they were having me on!

The next day, Wednesday, I went for a run along a pleasant 5km loop I’d worked out on previous visits to the town, enjoying the cool of the early morning air, the views of Simba Rock (simba is Swahili for lion) and the flat roads (unlike the hills of Mbeya). Although warmer than Mbeya, the temperature was pleasant and remained so throughout the day due to plenty of cloud cover. The little thermometer I had brought with me seemed to hover around 24-26C in my bedroom throughout my stay. This was good news for the workshop, as it meant the meeting room didn’t get stuffy and we could play games outside without getting too hot.

Playing 'sheep/shepherds' with the Sunday school teachers (Photo by LP)

On the first day, we waited to start until at least half the participants had turned up, which meant that we got going late morning. Participants had come some distance and for many it had involved both a motorbike and bus ride, so for the next two nights they were hosted in a nearby guest house. In total we had fifteen Sunday school teachers, men and women, with varying experience and ability. They engaged well in the training and enthusiastically participated in the games. I enjoyed listening to them speak their Burunge language, as it’s a Cushitic language, which sounds very different from the Bantu languages around Mbeya. One of the sounds they have is like the Welsh “ll” (though they write it “sl”), and they have lots of other beautiful, soft sounds. I couldn’t understand a word (except ‘taáta’, which means ‘father’), whereas with the Bantu languages around Mbeya I can sometimes make intelligent guesses about words and the grammatical structures look familiar, because Swahili is also Bantu (though with a number of Arabic-origin words).

At the end of the workshop, we asked them what they had enjoyed and what new things they had learnt. Answers included that they used to just turn up at class and start teaching, they didn’t know they needed to prepare ahead of time or how to plan out a lesson, but now they did. Others mentioned that they had learned that they should teach in an interactive way, including using questions, games and pictures. They were all excited to leave with enough sets of the Bible story books that they would be able to hand them out to the children to read in class – in smaller classes there’d be enough for each child to have a book while in large classes (of over thirty children) there’d still be enough for them to share one between two or three children. In the final closing time, where we all had a chance to say a few words, one of the workshop participants said they wanted to give me a small thank you gift, and as he shook my hand, he slipped a 1000 shilling note into my palm (about 30p). It was both a very funny moment (because of the way he said it) and a very moving moment; I felt so touched by this spontaneous act of appreciation.

The weekend began with a meal out on Friday evening at a nearby Italian restaurant that serves proper Italian pizzas. I went with my hosts and a couple of their friends, two German ladies who I have got to know a little on my visits to Dodoma. On Saturday morning I enjoyed a six-mile run, looping around the back of Dodoma’s iconic Simba Rock. Later in the morning, Nicholle and I used Bolt (like Uber) to call a bajaj (motorised rickshaw) to take us to the edge of town where I’d been told about a nice little hill to climb, locally referred to as ‘radio hill’ because of all the radio and phone masts on top of it. The flowers were beautiful and we enjoyed expansive views in all directions. The weather was a mix of sunshine and clouds, and although at one point it looked like we were in for a soaking, the rain ended up skirting around us so that we only felt a couple of drops while still benefiting from the cool wind that accompanied the threat of rain. Instead of getting wet, I got sunburnt! On the way back I got to see the new electric train that now exists between Dodoma and Dar es Salaam, which by all accounts is an excellent form of transport, with trains always being on time and only taking 3-4 hours, compared to eight plus hours on a bus.

With Nicholle, heading towards radio hill (behind us),
beautiful flowers all around

Fantastic views across Dodoma

Spot the chameleon

In the afternoon I went on another exciting excursion, this time to the supermarket! While we have one or two shops in Mbeya with aisles, nothing could quite be considered a supermarket, so it’s always fun to see what’s available in ‘Shoppers’, as it’s called. It’s particularly amusing to find products from the UK, with UK pricing on the label but being sold for two or three times the price! Disappointingly, they didn’t have any decaffeinated coffee, which I had hoped to find, but they did have some very reduced (end of date) lactose free and oat milk that would be a real treat, so I picked up a couple litres of each of these to take back with me.

After a gentle run on Sunday morning, I spent most of the day at the house. One of the ladies who came to the Italian restaurant came over for an afternoon coffee, and then we accompanied her back to her house, just a two-minute walk away, to see her menagerie. She has dogs, chickens, turkeys, guinea pigs, rabbits, mice, doves and love birds! These are all being bred for sale. It’s very unlikely that the guinea pigs, rabbits or mice will become pets! Apparently, the mice get sold to schools, so I imagine they end up on the dissection table.

Found this fascinating large bug on a walk - an
armoured cricket

Monday 27^th April marked the beginning of the second workshop. We weren’t able to start until after lunch because of the time it took for people to get from the Rangi language area. During the coffee break I enjoyed chatting with one of the Sandawe language translators, who told me about how many snakes there are where she comes from, many of which are highly poisonous, and how sometimes she’d be afraid to go out, especially during the rainy season when they would be hidden by the vegetation that grows fast in the warm, wet weather. She once got bitten on her head, but recovered after swift treatment from an electric shock machine. Some churches had been given these machines, and she herself was involved in helping people who received snakebites – witnessing to them, praying for them and treating them. I am glad that I hardly ever encounter snakes in Mbeya, as they prefer hotter climates!

The workshop kicked off about 1.30pm, after the usual lunch of rice, greens (cabbage), meat, beans and fruit. As people introduced themselves, I realised that they were all from Catholic churches. The Catholic church is the main denomination in the Rangi area, but even so, I hadn’t expected all the participants to be Catholic! I also noticed the character of the group to be different to that of the Burunge – they seemed quieter and their faces were harder to read, but that didn’t mean they were listening any less. Indeed, as the workshop progressed, I could see that they were trying hard and they did a particularly good job of forming actions or composing a tune to help children learn a memory verse. I hope that the participants left not only with ideas for how to teach children in a fun and interactive way, but also with a fresh desire to read the Bible for themselves (only one of them had brought a Bible to the workshop) and a deeper understanding of salvation and God’s love for them.

Participants practise teaching

Some of the feedback we received at the end of the workshop included that they had learnt to teach using actions and songs, they’d learnt the importance of reviewing what you’ve taught before teaching something new, they’d learnt to read using expression, and they’d learnt to read Rangi and that they can use Rangi with the children. They also said that the teachers (i.e. me and my colleagues) taught with love and joy, and one said that he’d discovered the Bible is for all people, not just Catholics! More amusingly, other feedback included that they’d never slept in a guest house with more than one storey before and that they had been surprised to discover that their teacher was an mzungu (a white person).

The night before I left, loud music started playing from a neighbour’s home. We didn’t know what the celebration was all about (they’d erected a gazebo in their compound and had hired plastic chairs for their guests), but we feared it could go on late into the night. It did indeed mean getting to sleep later than I’d hoped, but fortunately it was over by about 11.30pm, so I still got a reasonable amount of sleep before my alarm went off at 5.15am on Thursday morning. As soon as I’d finished packing up my bags, Michelle and Nicholle kindly gave me a lift to the bus stand for 6am, and the Shabiby bus arrived just after 6.10am.

View from the bus - fields of sunflowers with hills in the distance

The bus journey was long (taking just over 12 hours), but it went smoothly. Around lunchtime we had a ten-minute food and toilet stop, where I bought a tray of lukewarm chips and a bottle of water. A little while later, we stopped briefly at the town of Makambako while we waited for some passengers to join us. As we waited, a man took over the bus’s microphone and started sharing some local history with us. He explained that there were two tribes, the Hehe and another, who were at war with each other, and were kidnapping each other’s wives. At some point, the Hehe chief said that they should stop fighting each other and instead join forces to fight against the German colonists. They met together and made a covenant of reconciliation, offering oxen as sacrifices. In the local language, the word for oxen was ‘makambako’, hence the name of the town. Then they turned on the Germans. The Hehe are famous for their war against the Germans – according to Wikipedia, they vanquished a German expedition and maintained their resistance for seven years in the 1890s.

The man also regaled us with local beliefs and facts about Mbeya, one of which was that it is the town with the most churches in Africa, after Lagos. He also turned out to be a successful entrepreneur, having recently received an award for his soap and creams made from natural ingredients, which he advertised with skill and humour as we continued our journey. It is not unusual for tradesmen to get on a bus at one stop, sell their wares, and alight at the next, and normally I find their advertising patter rather annoying, but this man had the gift of the gab and had us all laughing.

Another snapshot taken through the bus window - roadside vendors selling root vegetables

With my big rucksack on my back, my laptop bag on my front, and the bag carrying my four cartons of milk in my hand, I walked uncomfortably home, rather desperate for the loo! Although the bus had a toilet, you weren’t allowed to use it in built-up areas, which we had been in for the past hour. It was with relief that I arrived home, made myself comfortable and spent a few minutes with my housemate before she headed off to our weekly English Bible study. It was definitely good to be home, but it had also been good to be away, to have a change of scene and be doing what I love to do – train people to engage with God’s Word.

Off on an adventure - Kili Trails Festival

Thursday 6^th February

Air Tanzania flight from Dar left on time at 9pm. First stop, Zanzibar, then onto Kilimanjaro International Airport. Leaving the airport building, taxi drivers were quickly in my face offering rides, but I could see someone holding an ‘Air Tanzania Airport Shuttle’ sign and headed for that. I’d done my research and knew that I could pay 10,000/- (about £2.85*) for a shuttle rather than the $25 (about £18.30) that hotels charge for their taxi services.

(*Approximate exchange rate at time of writing: £1 = 3500/- (Tanzanian shillings))

Shuttle worked as hoped, taking me to the door of Snow View Hotel, where I’d booked myself in for the night. Google Maps had shown lots of accommodation options in Boma la Ng’ombe, which is where I needed to stay in order to get a bus the next day. I’d phoned a couple of them up that were close to the bus stand, Snow View and Happy Family Lodge, and decided to go with Snow View for no particular reason other than its location and the friendly voice on the phone. Their cheapest rooms were 50,000/-. I’m sure there would be cheaper places if you’re willing to shop around more, but Snow View was conveniently located on the main road, so it was easy to get dropped off there by the shuttle. I finally got to bed at midnight.

Friday 6^th February

Not sure about ‘Snow View’ – all I could see out of my window was roofs! Maybe a different side of the hotel and a higher floor would afford better views. My room felt warm – 27.2C at 8am (so said my handy little thermometer). After a slow start to the day with time to pray, read the Bible, stretch and have a shower, I headed downstairs to the restaurant for breakfast. They provided me with some hot water so I could make my porridge and they cooked me up an omelette. The only fruit available was watermelon. I wish this wasn’t so often the sole fruit option in hotels – it’s very high in fructose so it’s not a good option for me, and I don’t really like them anyhow! They couldn’t even rustle up a banana.

Packed up and walked round the corner of the hotel to the bus stand. Went to an MPesa (phone banking) agent to get some more cash out, trying to ignore all the bajaj (motorised rickshaw) drivers who wanted to persuade me I needed their services. One outright lied, telling me the bus stop for the bus I wanted was further down the road. It wasn’t. The hotel staff had told me to look for a Noah (a Toyota people carrier) for Sanya Juu. Found one in the middle of the bus stand, waited about 10 minutes for it to fill up so that ten of us were squished into seats for seven, and off we went. It took us about half an hour to get to Sanya Juu, costing 1500/-. I alighted to find another vehicle to take me to Madati, once again trying to ignore the people trying to offer me rides. We were packed like sardines for the half-an-hour or so ride as far as Engare Nairobi, at which point most people got off and I sat in luxury in the front seat for the last 5 minutes. Cost 2000/-. (In theory, I think there are daladalas or Noahs that would go all the way through to Madati, heading to West Kilimanjaro, but I couldn’t find any.)

This time I needed the services of a motorbike and was soon on the back of one heading to Simba Farm, for 2000/-. Took about 10 minutes – the wind in my face felt good as we headed off the tarmac and along the dirt road to Simba Farm, with fantastic views of the mountains off to my right.

I seemed to be one of the first to arrive at Simba Farm at about 11.30am. The event officially opened at 12 noon. I hovered around feeling lost, until someone rescued me, pointing me in the direction of the people in charge of the rented tents. My tent was up and ready for me, among many other identical Quechua (Decathlon) tents. I got my stuff in, noted my thermometer reading around 30C, but low humidity, took my bearings and soaked up the view across to Mount Meru. Awesome.

Once registration was open, I reported at the tent and got my wrist band, took a rest and then went to find some food. Finding low FODMAP food was a bit tricky, but options existed. As I stood dithering, the chef of the Chinese food stall came over to chat to me, which led to him rustling me up a delicious low-FODMAP Chinese meal! A colourful plate full of rice, stir-fried vegetables and chicken with a tasty sauce. 20,000/- for a plate of food. I plucked up courage to ask a couple of people if I could sit with them and enjoyed chatting. Over the course of the weekend I did that many times, asking people I’ve never met before if I could sit with them, and meeting people from all walks of life. There was a surprising number of Brits, as well as Americans, Canadians, German and more; many had come from Arusha, Moshi, Nairobi or Dar es Salaam. I also met one couple from Switzerland and another from Canada, just visiting Tanzania on holiday.

Later on in the afternoon, when things had cooled a bit, I went for a walk with amazing views across to Mount Meru. By the time I got back the festival ground was buzzing, tents had sprung up everywhere, music was playing and food vendors were busy. I made use of the shower block – good showers, hot (I almost scalded myself), and a few handy hooks in the corner of the cubicle to hang your stuff.

Picked up my running bib and took a look at the merchandise. Enjoyed a light tea, using up some of the bits and bobs I had with me, and buying a big banana to finish it off. I also bought a banana ready for the next morning, in case I wanted something to eat before the big run.

Music went on until quite late, but it wasn’t too bad, and I think many people had headed to bed early after long drives or night flights, trying to restore their energy before the next day’s races. With earplugs, I slept surprisingly well. The little mattress, pillow and sleeping bag were comfy. Head torch proved an essential part of my gear (annoyingly my little solar light seemed to have stopped working at some point on my travels).

Saturday 7^th February

Woken by music about 5am, but then snoozed again until announcements began about 6am. It was just getting light outside. 16.7C in my tent. Oatcakes, half a banana and some peanut butter for a light breakfast – I was glad I had some of my own food with me for times like this. Toilet. Off to the start line.

Can you see me? Purplish top, behind the tall Tanzanian.
(Photo credit: @kilitrails photo)

We set off on the dot at 6.45am. It was a lovely route, though I didn’t take in my surroundings very much as a lot of the time you needed to watch where you put your feet. Most of the trail had been well cleared, with the only bad place being where some pine trees had recently been chopped down so there were sticks and pinecones all over the trail, and I brushed past some kind of nettle that stung me and left my leg tingling for the rest of the day. But this was only a short section.

There were two food stations, with little sweet bananas, avocado, sesame seed snacks and water. There was also a third just-water station, but I missed that one as I got lost! The route was well marked with red ribbons and chalk on the ground at key turns, but somehow I missed one of these chalked turnings, staying on a wide track when I should have gone onto a narrow track and into the woods. I should have turned back as soon as I noticed the lack of red ribbons instead of assuming that just because I could see someone ahead of me and I was on a good track meant I was on the right path! Thankfully, I wasn’t the only one who missed the path, so we were able to take council and decide what to do, and we all got back with more than a half-marathon under our belts! I was very annoyed about how all of this slowed me down, as I went back and forth and tried phoning the check points (but not getting through) and looking for other runners, but on the plus side I ran the farthest I’ve ever run!

Our names were called out as we approached the finish line, and a few people were there cheering us in. We had the choice of a medal or a tree – I obviously chose the medal as I wouldn’t be able to take a tree on the plane, and anyhow, I’d rather have the medal! Hung around, congratulating and commiserating with others who had run and got lost! I’d run 14.77 miles (23.77km), so an extra 1.67 miles (2.67km).

Eventually headed to the showers (water less hot this time due to high volume of people using them, but I only had to wait 5 minutes to get in), bought a coffee and got a cup of hot water to mix up my porridge as my stomach didn’t feel like it wanted a big, cooked breakfast. Feeling hot and sticky, I think I’d had too much sun, I headed to my tent, which was far too warm, so then I went to find some shade to sit and be quiet, but it was still very warm! Finally headed for lunch, getting a delicious gluten-free wrap filled with salad and chicken, which they prepared specially for me to make it free from garlic. Cost 10,000/-

Chilled afternoon chatting, writing this blog, and then eating cake while getting to know someone who works with SIL Tanzania but who I’d never met as she lives in Arusha. I chose a brownie (decided it was time to just indulge, even though it was wheat) – sadly it wasn’t in the least bit brownie-like. Then it was the awards ceremony. To my surprise I got a prize for being third in my age category for ladies, despite the extra kilometres and stopping to figure out what to do! The prize was a locally made necklace and a sweet snack. Later I found you could scan a QR code that took you to a website where all the races and times could be found – I discovered that there were nine ladies in my age category, and that altogether I was 37^th out of 50 runners, and 10^th out of 26 ladies. I wanted to get an idea of what I might have achieved if I hadn’t gone wrong – I reckon that I would have saved about 15 minutes (about 10 for the extra distance and 5 for the dithering about what to do), which would have placed me about 20^th overall and the 3^rd lady. I have to admit, those calculations made me feel good!  I then joined the sunset stroll – a short walk to a viewpoint looking across to Mount Meru. Absolutely beautiful, with the skies first turning golden and then red.

I chose Chinese again for dinner. Full plate of the same food as last time. Chatted with yet more new people from the UK, one who works remotely for the NHS! Another works with UNICEF and another with the embassy. I’ve met people working for the UN, teachers, someone in the coffee industry, someone with a gin business, people working in various aspects of agriculture, someone involved in reforestation…and so the list goes one. Fascinating to hear what has brought people to East Africa.

Sunday 8th February

Didn’t sleep so well, but once I’d stuck my head out the tent I felt awake and ready to get going. Decided to go for a good breakfast first before heading off for a walk. This time I chose Simba Farm’s breakfast buffet – particularly delicious was the granola, with some fresh raspberries, pineapple and banana.

My walk had two goals – one was to find out where I had gone wrong on the half-marathon and the other was to enjoy the sights and sounds that I’d only partially taken in while running the day before. I enjoyed pausing to take in the views, to look at the trees in the forest, to listen to the birdsong, to take phots and generally enjoy the variety and beauty all around. I saw signs that elephants had passed by – fresh dung and trees broken down. I saw some baboons and heard their loud bark. I saw a large bird of prey gliding effortlessly through the sky. I found where I went wrong – the turn had been marked with the usual white chalk dust, but as it was onto a small path off a much wider track it was quite easy to miss.

Beautiful views and natural forests

After a shower, I was hungry. One of the vendors was selling burgers and chips. The burgers were laced with onion and garlic, so not a good option for me, but you could have bacon and cheese on your burger, so I took advantage of that option and asked if I could have cheesy chips with bacon. They thought it a strange request, but played along, and I officially declare it was a delicious combo, washed down with some carrot & orange juice. After hearing my rave review, they said they’d consider adding it to their menu! Cost – 12,000/- I followed this with a homemade granola slice (5000/-), which was very tasty, and a banana.

All weekend I had been cheekily asking around if anyone had a space in their car to give me a lift at least partway back to the airport, but I’d had no luck – everyone’s cars were full of people and equipment. As the final awards ceremony progressed (with an amazing Tanzanian man achieving a record-breaking 75km in a race that involved running as many 5km loops as possible in 6 hours), the skies blackened, and as they finished there was a rumble of thunder. If I couldn’t get a lift, I’d need to get a motorbike to come and pick me up (i.e. do the reverse of how I came), and if it rained that would not be fun. I made one final attempt to ask for a lift from a couple I hadn’t spoken with before, and they said they had space! Within 5 minutes I was at their Land Cruiser with my bags, and my relief at getting a lift increased as we drove through heavy rain and some flooded sections of road! They dropped me off at the end of the airport road, where I was easily able to get a motorbike to take me along the long, straight road (cost 5000/-). It was hot and dry, and I looked forward to getting into an air-conditioned building, though I was not looking forward to the over-eight hour wait I would have for my 11.30pm flight. However, it turns out that despite Kilimanjaro Airport being an ‘international’ airport, it’s very small and once inside there was nothing but a short line of check-in desks and a few rows of chairs – you couldn’t even buy a bottle of water. The airport staff advised me to go to Jambo Coffee Shop, which was at the far edge of the car park. It’s an open sided café, but despite the breeze it felt hot (my thermometer showed 32C at 4pm). There were comfy chairs and a reasonable menu, including some nice fresh juice options. I spent my afternoon there – as it wasn’t too busy I didn’t feel bad for hogging a table for several hours with just a bottle of water and a juice. I later removed myself to some tables outside the café so that I could eat my own snacky food for tea. My only mistake was not putting mosquito repellent on before it got dark.

Plane was delayed, and then when we boarded there was a problem with the air con, so we continued to wait. Finally arrived in Dar about 3am. Luggage seemed slow in coming, but amazingly mine was the first to appear on the belt. Taxi for Transit Airport B&B was waiting for me, and I finally collapsed in bed at 4am.

Monday 9^th February

More hours sitting around at an airport before finally boarding my flight to Mbeya and heading home. I spent more time travelling than I did at the festival itself, but despite that… what a fab weekend! A few days later received an email from the event organisers with links to photos, race results and more. The whole thing was very well organised – a big thank you to the whole team, especially Brett.

Visit Kilitrails.com for more information.