Matt Luce

Catching up on the Africa blog posts. Joe and I went on a bike ride on the second to last day in Tanzania. We wanted to see a crater that Joe had visited in the past. Joe wasn’t exactly sure where it was, but had a general idea of how to get there. I assumed this would be a short bike ride, maybe an hour to get there and an hour back home. Well, after 2.5 hours we stopped to take a break. At that point we were about to turn around because we weren’t sure how far away the crater actually was, when one of the locals came up and starting talking to us. Actually he was talking to Joe, since I don’t speak Swahili. The guy said that it was less than a half hour away, and that he would lead us there. I didn’t want to go, because I knew that it was a half hour in ‘Africa time’. Africa time is completely different from Western time. A half hour could mean several hours. Well we were off again. At this point, I’m swearing like a sailor, because I’m so frustrated and exhausted. I’ve taken long bike rides before, but never on this type of terrain. Most of the ride so far was on the bumpiest, dustiest roads you will ever come across. It was also mostly downhill, so the return trip would be even more brutal going back up the hill. Anyway, 45 minutes later, we came to a huge hill. I didn’t really think the guide knew where he was going, so I just sat down on a rock and told the group (we had attracted a small crowd. The locals were rather curious why two white people would be riding bikes this far away from civilization) that I was going to wait there, and that they should get me when they come back. Well, it turned out we were only a few meters from the crater, so I picked up my bike and carried it up the hill, swearing the entire time. We had finally arrived at the crater. We hung out there for about 20 minutes and enjoyed the view. Now it was time to head back. I knew that I didn’t the energy to make the trip back. Plus, my entire body was aching from riding on the bumpy roads. I felt like I had just been in a paint mixer. To add insult to injury, every time a car passed us, a huge dust cloud was kicked up in its wake, so we were covered in dust. After about an hour of riding, I couldn’t take any more. I was so sore, I couldn’t sit down on my bicycle seat any longer, so we started walking our bikes. Finally, we made it to a spot with a few small shops. We bought a little food and water and rested for a while. We decided to try to find a truck in which we could hitch-hike back into town. After a few vehicles passed, a large truck hauling rocks stopped and agreed to give us a ride to the edge of town for a few hundred shillings. They let us sit in the front, I’m guessing because we were wazungu. What made the ride most interesting was that the driver, and the other passenger in the front were chewing on khat. Khat is an leafy plant used as a stimulant. I was a bit freaked at first, but since the truck was moving so slow, I figured the driver couldn’t do much damage, know matter how high he was. Anyway, the truck took us to the edge of town, then we rode for a while longer, then stopped for more food, finally we hired a taxi to take us and our bikes home. It was one of those days that I thought would never end. But, how often do you get to hitch-hike in a truck driven by someone using khat? After that trip, I don’t think I will ride a bike ever again.

This entry was posted on Thursday, December 15th, 2005 at 1:00 pm and is filed under travel. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.