February 20, 2019
Day Three of the Kilimanjaro Trip: To the Camp and the
Shamba we go…
Wednesday dawned clear…..NOT! Actually, Kili was hidden
behind a thick blanket of grey clouds. After awhile, it cleared somewhat which
made the mountain look a bit mysterious. You decide.
This day was another day of adventure with Victor. He told us that he’d bought a piece of land
that butted up against Kilimanjaro National Park and he planned on turning it
into a campsite. He said that he’d take us there if we wanted and, of course,
we weren’t going to pass up another adventure. John and I hiked to the camp because
there were no roads, only footpaths-- and the way was farther than to the
waterfall. No problem. We started off at 7:30.
We walked along a road at first, then when we crossed over
creeks and canals, we took footpaths. Eventually, we were only on footpaths. Victor
said that the villagers had been trying to get road-sized bridges over the
waterways so that they could get in and out of their villages more easily. As
it stands now, they must take a piki piki or carry everything in by hand or by handcart.
Imagine a pregnant woman who goes into labor. How does she get to the hospital?
By piki piki??? Yipes!
In spite of the difficulties of getting into the area, we saw
several houses and outbuildings of various ages, materials and stages of
completion. I’m not sure if this is a
house or another structure. It was just
sitting there trying to hide from us.
Here’s a house which appears to be made of sticks and
mud.
At this place, we talked to a woman with a couple of
children. The little boy was sitting on
a rock next to a tree stump copying his letters into a notebook—doing his homework. We noticed that many children were on the
path to school at about 10:00.
Other houses showed both the old and the new, like this one with the stick structure next to the new house. I honestly don’t know how they managed to
build this new one without road access. It would take a lot of ingenuity. And
without electricity, everything would be done completely with hand tools.
Along the way, we also saw wild tomatoes growing on trees.
No Kidding! They were ripe and Victor picked a couple of them for us to taste.
I took a bite but in truth, I gagged. I seriously don’t like tomatoes and that
taste was the tangiest most tomato-est thing I’d ever put into my mouth. It was
wicked bad. John, however, said they were pretty good. (I truly wish I did like tomatoes. They’re in so many dishes.)
At one point, we walked between some trees that had been
planted in a row and Victor said, “Welcome to Kilimanjaro National Park.” Then
the trail switched back through the line of trees and Victor said, “We’re now
leaving Kilimanjaro National Park.” The trail continued to weave in and out of
the same line of trees.
Finally, we crossed over the line between the park and the
camp and there we were. Here is the line of trees from both directions along the border of Kilimanjaro Park.
The view from his future campsite is stunning. This photo really doesn't capture it.
Victor even constructed what he calls “the kitchen,” which
also has this great view.
Victor bought the land from a farmer, and his house,
outbuildings and farmland are right there next to the camp. We walked by and
visited his shamba (aka farm).
This is his house. It’s
of a most interesting construction. A lattice of walls is constructed and rocks
are piled in the lattice to provide the structure. When he gets the money, he’ll cover it with
cement or plaster or something like that.
Obviously, he’s needed the money for a long time because this house
looked very old.
Here’s another house nearby which has a similar construction
except it has a wall of plaster(?) mud(?).
The farmer has some animals, including goats and a cow. They were each in their own little shed.
I don’t know about the goats, but I know that the cows are
never let out of their little hut. There’s no room for them to wander. Their food is brought to them in the form of
plants that are cut from along the paths or fields. Here are 2 photos of women carrying cow feed. They must be incredibly strong. Interesting, huh.
And what about the poop, you ask? Well, I heard that it is
channeled(?), or taken(?) to the fields to fertilize the banana trees. Or maybe
it’s the maize/corn. Hmmmm.
So, on our way back, we continued to see interesting
things. Some women had just returned
from gathering passion fruit. They had
put it into a bag, ready to be carried to market. I think one of the women
planned to carry the bag on her head. Ugh. How heavy! We bought some passion fruit.
We saw where the local people got water from the canal. Here, they’ve installed a kind of pipe to
help them fill their jugs.
BUT WAIT! THERE’S MORE!
Before reaching the Archbishop’s House, we drove through a
village of about 4-5 buildings and Victor drove up to one of the buildings. A
man, who Victor knew, was making Mbege. I know, you’ve been wondering, as
mentioned in the last two posts, what mbege is.
Beer Brew. I call it Beer Brew. It’s a kind of fermented
banana drink made a bit like beer. It’s the local hooch. Victor said that it is
served in local pubs and at local celebrations like weddings and funerals.
People order it and then pick it up for their parties and gatherings. Victor
said he recently bought lots and lots of it for the meal after his grandmother’s
funeral
(Note:
She was a couple-three years shy of 100 and was dearly loved by everyone,
especially her family. Victor obviously loved and respected her and was missing
her dearly. John and Janet, too, were hoping to talk to her on this trip but
alas, not so. They speak highly of her.)
We stopped to see how this beer brew was brewed. The brewing
operations took place behind the white tarped wall to the far left in this photo.
First, we saw a huge bubbling vat over a fire…
…and John and Victor took turns stirring it with a stick
that looked like it had been charred.
Then the mash has to sit and then other stuff (malt? grain?)
is added and it sits and ferments some more.
Finally it’s ready to drink. TA-DA!!! (We shared a cuppa.) And for the record, John doesn’t drink. (Maybe he didn’t swallow?)
OK, here’s a link in case you want to know more about this
moonshine.
We left then, and really did go to the Archbishop’s
house. We loaded up the car with our
luggage and started down the incredibly rutted road to Moshi to take a bus back
to Arusha.
BUT WAIT! THERE’S
STILL MORE!
You’ve been waiting to learn about Kweme / Oyster Nuts. Here’s
the scoop.
Before we left, we were served a plate of roasted kweme
(oyster nuts).
Kweme is an indigenous plant that grows on vines that have
attached themselves to certain trees. Victor told us that his grandmother told
him that traditionally, kweme was roasted, ground up or pressed into oil and
eaten as a traditional food. When it became easier to buy cooking oil at a
supermarket, kweme died on the vines, so to speak. Victor has a plan to
reintroduce this plant into Chagga life by raising seedlings, which he gives
away free to Chagga farmers. Through social media, he has solicited volunteers
to come help him get this program started.
Volunteers, one or two at a time, have come from all over the world to
help him design a greenhouse, plant the seedlings, and make a plan to distribute
them and educate farmers in what to do with them. He’s also trying to get
grants or partnerships to be able to get an oil processing plant/factory and
generally move forward. Two volunteers were living at the Archbishops House and
working to help him get things started. One was from France and the other was
from Madagascar. If you want a fabulous cultural, agricultural experience, Victor would be glad to welcome you to Chagga land. Here’s a link for more information about oyster nuts: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Telfairia_pedata
Victor brought out several oyster nuts and showed us how to
break them open. They are quite tasty.
Then, he took us to a small farm where the kweme was growing
on the vines. Unfortunately, it’s not
the growing season for oyster nuts so all we could see were the vines. When ripe, they get quite large and hang down
from the trees.
It’s hard to believe, but kweme gets about as big as
jackfruit—which is H-U-G-E. When it’s ripe, it falls off the vine and splits
open. One or two kilos of oyster nuts
spill out. The farmers then gather them all up and eat them or process them
into oil. The shells can be used in place of charcoal in their cooking fires.
While we were at the farm, we looked around. Here’s a picture
of Janet chatting with the pigs.
Victor showed us the outdoor “shower.” This looks like a
rather clever set up.
And here’s the outhouse. It’s the canvas-walled little room
in the middle of this picture. I don’t think the farmhouse—house on the right—had
a bathroom.
Finally, we bounced our way through the forest and down the
hill into Moshi to take the bus back to Arusha. We arrived at the bus park at
about 1:00.
The whole bus situation was quite an interesting…. adventure(?).
Fortunately, Victor was going with us into Arusha to get his phone fixed and,
believe me, it was certainly a good thing that he was along. When we arrived at the bus parking lot, there
were lots and lots of people walking every which way, and dozens of buses and
dala dalas waiting for passengers. They
don’t leave until the vehicle is full so it’s important to quickly find people
for the bus so they can move out. To do this, there are men who go out to look
for passengers, so as soon as someone enters the bus park, especially carrying
a suitcase, then several men approach and direct that person to their bus. They
get paid for each passenger they get to ride their bus. Oh, excuse me…that’s
not what the foreigner sees or experiences.
Here’s the scene.
Victor was carrying John and Janet’s carry-on size suitcase and I was
carrying my duffel and a small backpack. We were walking as a group into the
bus park and immediately tried to work our way through the crowd. All of a
sudden, a gang of about six men, representing different buses, approached
Victor and tried to grab the suitcase, all the time yelling and pushing him in
different directions to “their” bus. Victor “fought” back and tried to keep his
hands on the suitcase, all the while moving in whichever direction he was
pushed. John and Janet were also herded,
although not jostled and shoved as much as Victor. I stepped back and for some
reason was not seen as part of this little group so I followed along behind
them. No one grabbed for my duffel which I held close to my body. Surprisingly,
I was not scared but definitely surprised and fascinated.
Finally, two guys in orange shirts won the skirmish and we were
shoved onto a very large bus. The orange shirts insisted that there were 3
seats available. Weeeeellll…. First, getting on the bus was difficult because
the steps were meant for giants. Then at the top of the stairs, there was a
mattress on the floor where some of the seats should have been. We had to balance-walk over the mattress to
get down the aisle to get to a seat in the back of the bus. Excuse me… to discover that there were
no seats on the bus—except for the mattress. I was the last one to climb the
stairs and wade over the mattress. One of the orange shirts yelled at a young
woman in a seat. She got up and I was shoved into the seat. I heard Janet, John, and Victor yell that
there were no seats and we were getting off and we started to fight our way
back out. BUT by then people were sitting on the steps of the bus. I literally shoved aside one man and hopped
down the stairs, hoping I didn’t miss a step.
(Poor Janet who doesn’t walk very
well anyway also had to manage the mattress and steps.) We all finally reached
the safety of the ground amid yells and shoves. Whew!!!!
Now what!!!! I was a
bit discombobulated by this time—although still not frightened, and somehow, we
made it onto another, smaller bus that was practically empty. It was next to another
big bus. Because it was almost empty, we had to wait about 45 minutes for it to
fill up so I got to watch the “circus”
outside the window.
Soon after we got on the smaller bus, a large bus that was parked
at a curb left. Then other buses tried to park there since that was a prime
spot for getting passengers. A very interesting bus duel took place among 3
buses, including ours, all trying to get themselves into this prime parking
space. Buses were moving back and forth, trying to parallel park. Men
were yelling and directing their bus to move here and to move there into
position along the curb. I’m happy to say
that we won!! YAY! Must have been cuz we
were the special short bus.
As we sat there, I watched gangs of men manhandle young
women and old men as they shoved and pushed them toward their bus. Some of the women, especially, looked quite frightened.
It seemed a good idea for safety’s sake to go in groups to get a bus. I noticed
that some did that. All in all, it was quite a scene that I haven’t quite
processed yet. I think I prefer
curb-side bus service on the street, thank you very much.
While waiting on the bus, other men and women, with boxes of
snacks and drinks shoved them against the windows to get passengers to buy
their goods. This was quite competitive and when someone on a bus opened a
window, a box was shoved up right there. Sometimes people bought something…even
Victor bought a bottle of water.
Once we got on our way, we had to put up with heavy traffic
and slow-moving trucks. We made several
passenger stops along the way, too, so it was after 4:00 before we were dropped
off at Kundayo Road. Fortunately, we didn’t have to go into town but Victor
did. I hope he managed to get his phone fixed, even though it was quite late. I
was very weary and ready to relax.
Thus ends the exciting saga of Kilimanjaro. I think it’s my
last big adventure before I leave in a month.
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