Africa, first in a series of many
Kerry's brother Casey and his wife Mary are in Tanzania for the next six weeks. They both work in the education-related fields and typically take some burly global vacation every summer (last year it was bicycling around Belgium). I asked Casey if he was interested in sending to me some images and text while in Africa, and he graciously agreed. This is a first for me, opening up my little corner of cyberspace with someone else, but Casey's a fucking master photographer and all around super-solid guy who gets a lot of my love and respect. So when he agreed to do this, I was flattered and honored. For once, City Chicken isn't all about me and what I have to say. He'll hopefully be sending to me posts at will and I will get them on here ASAP. Below is his inaugural post on the Chicken.
DAR ES SALAAM, TANZANIA — Part I - Werewolves of row 22. Arriving at the airport, it finally sets in that we are heading to Africa. Wow! Only 18 hours of flying time, 21 hours total, until we get there. We board, and the plane pushes back from the gate - we're on our way. Just as we begin to move, the two year old sitting across from us (we later find out his name is Ian), starts to fuss. The more his mom tries to calm him, the more whining he makes. We're airborne, and mom unbuckles him and takes him into her lap, thinking this will soothe him. He's full-on crying now, and starting to squirm. He's clearly upset. I try to maintain my sympathy, knowing it can't be easy for a two year old to sit still when ordered. Mom's efforts only seem to be making things worse. She begins to tighten her grip, and he begins to wail even louder. She's whispering in his ear, but he's not having it. He begins to fight and kick. Mom clamps down. Ian is squirming like a maggot caught in a sparrow's beak, and he lets out a howl that would make Lon Chaney envious. 20 minutes in and I'm already irrittated. Ian is not calming down. Thank god I brought the Ipod. Earphones in place, I no longer care about Ian's problem.
Arriving in Amsterdam, midnight our time, with a two hour layover. We search out our gate, and sit down to await boarding. There are a huge number of American missionaries heading to Tanzania. They mingle in small and large groups, no doubt cheered by the thought of saving souls on the "dark continent." One large group all wears matching t-shirts, professing their dedication to Jesus and their preparedness to "shine their light." I am just weary and uncomfortable sitting on the floor. I let my eyes wander, falling on the missionaries, rich old tourists, school groups, and a few native Tanzanians that will be on our flight. Then I see him - Lon Chaney Jr. junior, Ian. He's going to Tanzania! Dear God, if you have any energy left over after the missionaries have taken theirs, please don't let me be sitting by Ian.
We're Africa bound now, on a flight that is two hours longer than the first leg. Ian's nowhere in sight. Sleep in almost impossible. Thankfully I have my own monitor in the seat back in front of me to keep me entertained. Before I know it, we're decending. I look out the window as we approach. It's odd - there are NO lights. I thought that as we approached the Capitol city of this country, it would be more "urban," but its pitch black, with the exception of one or two flickering lights out in the middle of nowhere. We touch down. It's 10:15 pm local time, and Mary's sister Anne is there to meet us. Ian is in the luggage claim area, but he's at peace now. Cute kid actually. No hard feelings kid.
We walk out the doors into Africa. Its warm and humid, but not "Africa hot," in fact more pleasant than Michigan. Its dark with not much to see, but it smells of burning charcoal - the cooking fuel of choice in these parts. We clamber into Anne's old-school Toyota LandCruiser, big, deisel, with fold down seats on each side of the back compartment, the truck Anne calls "The Beast." She throws it into gear and off we go. Through "downtown" Dar Es Salaam, which doesn't resemble any downtown I have ever seen before, but its hard to see. Every once in a while we pass a row of battered, shabby shacks - "dhukas" they are called - with people hanging about, trying to sell any sort of thing, or having a beer and watching the World Cup. Soon we are off the pavement, and negotiating the dirt roads to Anne's house. Now I understand why she drives a Land Cruiser. The road seems as if it's been shelled. Anne lives in one of the "nicest" areas of Dar - and her house is in fact beautiful
- but they don't know what pavement is. We weave back and forth across the road, avoiding the largest potholes, but we might as well be driving across an open field the road is so bumpy. We're going about 15 miles an hour tops, and it seems like we're going too fast. Eventually we make it to Anne's house. I'm beyond tired, but a few beers entice sleep. Tomorrow we'll hit the "yacht club," watch the sun set beyond the pacific, and have some cheap red wine.
DAR ES SALAAM, TANZANIA — Part I - Werewolves of row 22. Arriving at the airport, it finally sets in that we are heading to Africa. Wow! Only 18 hours of flying time, 21 hours total, until we get there. We board, and the plane pushes back from the gate - we're on our way. Just as we begin to move, the two year old sitting across from us (we later find out his name is Ian), starts to fuss. The more his mom tries to calm him, the more whining he makes. We're airborne, and mom unbuckles him and takes him into her lap, thinking this will soothe him. He's full-on crying now, and starting to squirm. He's clearly upset. I try to maintain my sympathy, knowing it can't be easy for a two year old to sit still when ordered. Mom's efforts only seem to be making things worse. She begins to tighten her grip, and he begins to wail even louder. She's whispering in his ear, but he's not having it. He begins to fight and kick. Mom clamps down. Ian is squirming like a maggot caught in a sparrow's beak, and he lets out a howl that would make Lon Chaney envious. 20 minutes in and I'm already irrittated. Ian is not calming down. Thank god I brought the Ipod. Earphones in place, I no longer care about Ian's problem.
Arriving in Amsterdam, midnight our time, with a two hour layover. We search out our gate, and sit down to await boarding. There are a huge number of American missionaries heading to Tanzania. They mingle in small and large groups, no doubt cheered by the thought of saving souls on the "dark continent." One large group all wears matching t-shirts, professing their dedication to Jesus and their preparedness to "shine their light." I am just weary and uncomfortable sitting on the floor. I let my eyes wander, falling on the missionaries, rich old tourists, school groups, and a few native Tanzanians that will be on our flight. Then I see him - Lon Chaney Jr. junior, Ian. He's going to Tanzania! Dear God, if you have any energy left over after the missionaries have taken theirs, please don't let me be sitting by Ian.
We're Africa bound now, on a flight that is two hours longer than the first leg. Ian's nowhere in sight. Sleep in almost impossible. Thankfully I have my own monitor in the seat back in front of me to keep me entertained. Before I know it, we're decending. I look out the window as we approach. It's odd - there are NO lights. I thought that as we approached the Capitol city of this country, it would be more "urban," but its pitch black, with the exception of one or two flickering lights out in the middle of nowhere. We touch down. It's 10:15 pm local time, and Mary's sister Anne is there to meet us. Ian is in the luggage claim area, but he's at peace now. Cute kid actually. No hard feelings kid.
We walk out the doors into Africa. Its warm and humid, but not "Africa hot," in fact more pleasant than Michigan. Its dark with not much to see, but it smells of burning charcoal - the cooking fuel of choice in these parts. We clamber into Anne's old-school Toyota LandCruiser, big, deisel, with fold down seats on each side of the back compartment, the truck Anne calls "The Beast." She throws it into gear and off we go. Through "downtown" Dar Es Salaam, which doesn't resemble any downtown I have ever seen before, but its hard to see. Every once in a while we pass a row of battered, shabby shacks - "dhukas" they are called - with people hanging about, trying to sell any sort of thing, or having a beer and watching the World Cup. Soon we are off the pavement, and negotiating the dirt roads to Anne's house. Now I understand why she drives a Land Cruiser. The road seems as if it's been shelled. Anne lives in one of the "nicest" areas of Dar - and her house is in fact beautiful
- but they don't know what pavement is. We weave back and forth across the road, avoiding the largest potholes, but we might as well be driving across an open field the road is so bumpy. We're going about 15 miles an hour tops, and it seems like we're going too fast. Eventually we make it to Anne's house. I'm beyond tired, but a few beers entice sleep. Tomorrow we'll hit the "yacht club," watch the sun set beyond the pacific, and have some cheap red wine.
posted by John at 3:02 PM
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home