River of Mosquitos

Another mystery solved.

I went down to Mto wa Mbu (river of mosquitos) for my first day off (after working for over a month now). It's a slightly smaller town about half an hour down the paved road. (We only have one paved road in our district.) Right at the bottom of the escarpment, it sits in a lush spot where water runs down from the highlands and into Lake Manyara. It looks completely different from dusty Karatu. There are banana trees and rice paddies everywhere, and everything is green green.

First I visited a school that a friend of mine works at. It's about four miles outside the town, and as soon as you get past the edge of town, the water dries up and you are in a desert of termite mounds and Maasai bomas. For the uninitiated, a boma is a set of dwellings-- usually mud huts-- with an enclosure for cattle made out of brambles.

I got to help teach a couple of English lessons, visit with the kids, and check out the awesome scenery.

It turned out that the only way to get back to town was to ride a boda boda, or motorcycle taxi. I had avoided these so far because they are, frankly, very dangerous. To my surprise, it turned out to be a lot of fun. We went back via the raised paths in between rice paddies, puttering along over bridges made out of half a log stuck between berms, slapping hi fives with little Maasai kids along the side of the path. 

My second objective for the trip was to find the second young heart patient to try to take a picture to raise money to send her to Israel for surgery. I got directions to the children's center that was her last known whereabouts and took off in Blackie, the faithful 4x4 Toyota I have on loan from FAME. About three miles down a dirt road, I came to an impassible section covered in downed trees and turned left. I soon figured that was a wrong turn because it dumped me into a plain that during the rainy season is underwater in Lake Manyara. So I stopped to ask some Maasai herders for directions, and they pointed me back to the obstructed road.

I had to leave Blackie behind and continue on foot. Eventually I found the compound. At the gate, there were guards with spears who were very friendly but very insistent that I was not going to go inside unless invited. So I chatted for a while in my broken Kiswahili, and eventually a Dutch woman came out to talk to me.

Apparently the little girl had already had heart surgery in Germany, paid for out of pocket by one of the volunteers at this children's center. She was doing just fine now. This was very good news and resolved my quest. I exchanged phone numbers, got a quick tour, and headed back to Karatu.

On the way back, I saw my first wild monkeys, and took some very nice pictures which I later deleted by accident. The only one that was saved, I won't post because this is a family-rated blog. Sorry.