More about Life in Moshi

On Monday I woke up to a strange smell – damp ground, for lo! it had been raining in the night. I cannot tell you what good news this was as it meant no dust – or at least less dust. The same happened on Tuesday night, but this time, driving to clinic, I found that no dust turns into more mud. Hey ho, swings and roundabouts. 

Coming back from town I decided that it was time I got a bus (dalla-dalla). Not as simple as you might think; to the untrained eye – that means mine – there is no clear system of numbering or identification. The result is that the surest way to get the right bus is to walk until there are very few options to get the wrong bus i.e. walk to the edge of town and wait at the end of the main road to Shanty town (home).

There is a lovely shady spot there and some people were already waiting so I joined them. A few minibussy things drove past, with the accompanying raised heads from us... followed by dropped heads as they sped past - they were not dalla-dallas. Then one did stop and we all raced to it. Some discussion ensued but then a dalla-dalla, loaded to the limits, pulled up and everyone left and ran towards that instead. However, in the first bus I had heard the word ‘International’, and knowing that our road is near the International school I asked if they were going that way. Apparently not, but there were going to Lima road – the main road here – so I took my chance. I realised that it was a private bus, but private vehicles do seem to pick people up, here, in fact the motor bikes are forever tooting to see if you want a lift – I assumed that they get a petrol contribution and everyone is happy. With this in mind, when we reached my road we stopped and I offered the dalla-dalla fare, but was generously told no problem. As it drove off I saw that it was a gospel bus, and so thanked the angel that had sent it.

In the evening I slathered on the Avon skin soft, to test the theory that it is a fantastic mosquito repellent and have decided that it is just a myth – the mosquitoes love the stuff and I watched one gobble my skin soft-drenched hand. Humph!

Later on that night, the rain theme continued, resulting in a spectacular thunderstorm. Not a lot of rain, but truly stunning lightning. Lorraine and I grabbed chairs and set them up facing the mountain and sat there gazing upwards. It was like a firework display with the occasional ooh! and aah! from us as the sky lit up dramatically and a sporadic forked hand spread across the heavens. Who needs TV?