New day we have to cross another national park, with animals this time. So we cycle together, to avoid any lonely bad meeting. Nearly no chance, but… We go slow, as we are yet tired, and we don’t want to miss animals. Well we see a lot of herds of gazelles, some kudus, and a few buffalos in the distance. We see also at the start big birds, as there are some natural dams. And by luck we see 2 herds of giraffes, very near, one running along the road accompanying us for a while. Well all the restaurants and shops are inside the Park and we not allowed crossing the gates, so we just stop in the sun to eat a bit and rest, not very comfortable. And yet the crazy trucks and buses drivers are racing, horrible. The second part of the park is with a lot of little trees, and we don’t see any more animals. Also it becomes hilly, and hot. After 50 km we get off the park and we join the village Doma, where we plan to sleep. I take lunch, as Martine feels seek and doesn’t want to eat, and we ask for the guesthouses. Well there is only one, and it is all full, awful. The lodge disappeared time ago. The owner of the guest house tells us there is a guest house in the next village, 30 km away. It is very hot. I propose to Martine to try a primary school here, but she wants comfort, shower and fan. So we hardly do the 30 km, very hilly and climbing, to arrive at the village. Well it is just a few shops, and there is no guest house. Also at the start everyone tries to sell me anything, so I stay in silence, in the shadow on the other side, where there are no shops, waiting for Martine. When she arrives we talk a while, we buy some water, the villagers are nicer, more helpful, and as Martine doesn’t get anymore strength, she accepts to ask shelter in the primary school. We go in, 500 m away, and meet the head teacher. I quickly get a strong headache because of the heat on the road, so I let Martine talk. Anyway she is better than me for that. She continues to be happy to tell our trip, and to tell she is a teacher, well always the same story. But she is American; she likes to look the stronger and the clever one. Anyway that is working. But we get a long chat, whilst the head teacher asks to children to manage we get a bucket of water and drinking water. Here there is no well, no bore water. Some has to bring it from a bit far, and for drinkable water some has to boil it. After a long while water doesn’t arrive, none brings it. And we both feel very tired, longing to go to bed. The head teacher proposes us to sleep in his dining room, but it is too small, so we settle in a classroom. It is hot, we don’t get a bucket to wash ourselves, and Martine feel yet seek and doesn’t eat.
I can only constate that Martine doesn’t stand anymore the heat, the bad food, the hot water, and the incomfort we meet in Africa. So as I know following the road would be at the best in the same difficult conditions, and certainly worst, as we would have to follow a lot of dusty trails far from towns, I decide the trip would finish in Zanzibar. We won’t go to Uganda and Kenya, and get arguments each day because she is looking for impossible comfort, impossible cold water and impossible good food, impossible fresh weather to pedal.
Me that makes already a long time I have enough of crossing slums, seeing destroyed or abandoned lands and forests, seeing only chickens, cows and goats as big game, and miserable people everywhere, working all by hands, with no hope of better, or staying idle and drunk.
Next day Martine awakes early and moves out the tent in hurry to try to find some fresh air. Me I still get a strong headache, and tired by getting it all night. So we have a very slow ride till Morogoro, the big town, 40 km away. The road is hilly and we enter in a poor land flat and all covered by small bush. It is very hot. We stop in a very small village, just a few huts, and I eat some chapattis with tea in a restaurant, well a few plastic chairs under a corrugated roof, and ground floor. In front is a mountain, lonely, with the slopes all naked, no grass, no trees, just sand and rocks. In the distance on south we can see high mountains, all a lane, in the fog. We hardly arrive at the cross, with still these crazy drivers. We turn on right way to Morogoro town, an other big slum in concrete. Well the main streets are asphalt and most of the building are in concrete, but ugly, bad maintained, just cubes without any art or decoration, and dark inside. First at the bus stop we turn on left and arrive in the university district, always a bit better, with real buildings and gardens. We ask for a guest house at a filling station, and after a long chat between them they tell us this guy would drive you to a lodge for 1$ forget it. We go back to the bus terminal and ask to a policeman. He indicates us the street on left rounded by very high mango trees, nice road. But the guest houses are miserable, or in the mountain, far from town. We go back and try the last street. We see near the Alood buses shop 2 hotels. We choose the best one and the best room. We stay 3 nights, Martine is resting, again seek, and me boring in that town where there is nowhere to walk, to ugly. We eat too in the expensive restaurant of the hotel for lunch, and buy food in the only one in town and small supermarket just at the corner. Morogoro is at the foot of a beautiful large peak, we discover it when the sun trough the fog away. It is all green, with grass and small bush, with cliffs and abrupt slopes, and 3 real peaks, not smooth at all. It would be nice to walk in, but it would cost at least 100$ each by day, and we would have to find a guide and porter for the food, out of our budget, and anyway too expensive for a trek, as I can do same or better in Western for 15$ a day.
There are 2 ways to visit Africa, the cheap one, near the local people and their way of life, or the very expensive one, doing all the things for tourists, national parks to see animals, trekking mountains, or forests, rafting rivers, flying over natural sites, diving, driving in dunes in the desert, etc…, just spend 200 till 500$ a day each, be conceited, be only interested by himself and his own pleasure, and have any care or empathy for the miserable population everywhere. That is what most of the tourists, also cyclists do in Africa, that is why they enjoy it. Then come those who work here, I didn’t meet them, so I don’t talk about.
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