Kigoma, Tanzania. 22nd October 2025.

When I left Kigoma the next morning, heading to Iringa, the weather looked gloomy so I got proactive and put my wet gear on just as it started spitting with rain. Fifteen minutes later the sun came out and I was too hot. I took the coat off after a while.
I’d been on asphalt but I came to a section of gravel, then onto dirt. It was 70kms to the next junction and the possibility of more asphalt. But it only lasted for 6kms before delivering me onto a nice, new road. Excellent!
I stayed on that until I came to a village where I had to turn off, back onto dirt. And here’s where things went stupid.
After the village Google showed that I needed to veer left but the track only went straight on. I stuck with it for a little way then turned back to try to find the track Google wanted me to take. It didn’t exist.
So I went back up the ‘wrong’ track, right through a village and beyond, thinking it might loop round and get me where I needed to be. But it didn’t do any good and I had no choice other than to turn around again. The residents must have wondered what on earth this mad muzungu was doing. I was too.
I headed back to the first village, ate my lunch, had a drink and retraced my steps back onto the nice new road. When I got back to a village I found a hotel, which was the only one there.
It was a reasonable place but the room had a squat toilet. I tried to get them to find me another room with a European toilet but there wasn’t one. So I was anticipating aching knees next morning.
This part of Tanzania is very rural indeed. Most people are using bicycles, both to ride and to lug goods. Not so many motorbikes here. Almost nobody speaks English. Neither at the hotel nor the café.
It would have to be a different route next day. It was going to be three hours longer and with a lot of dirt road. And it looked very sandy on the satellite image. Oh dear!
It was a tough day. I left soon after 9am and hit the dirt. Literally! I came off the bike twice. Once when the front wheel hit some hard packed dirt sideways, then went off to the right. The rear wheel ended up hanging over a ditch but I got it out. I was very pleased that I managed to pick it up OK.
The clutch lever dropped a little and the lower mounting for the luggage rack came off. I don’t know whether that was the impact or from when I had to drag the bike across on the pannier so as to be able topick it up.
The second off was in sand – of course! I didn’t see it properly and just lost the front. A coach came along and a guy helped me pick it up. That impact knocked the bars off line.
There were quite a few coaches on that road and only a couple of trucks. It was 140kms of dirt. It was generally not bad but there were some mega corrugations.
Then I had the joy of asphalt for 70kms. I was able to refuel. It took 12.2 L. Only half a litre away from needing to use my spare. Events showed that it might have been better if I had.
At the end of 70kms it was dirt again, for about 100kms. There were quite a lot of trucks on that route, plus cars. Some mega corrugations again and the surface was very hard, with protruding stones. Very tough riding. The last section was lovely asphalt, going up and down the hills. The town of Sumbawanga was at 1800m.

The hotel looked more like an office block. I later discovered it was some kind of Catholic place but I wasn’t asked to cross myself when I came in.
It was dirt cheap. The room was good enough. No wi-fi or TV, neither of which mattered. The hot water arrived from the tap within a minute. I had the desperately needed shower then did some washing. I also washed my filthy rotten waterproofs.
This place had a restaurant but it lacked a chef. So I found a place nearby on Google, which turned out to be very good. A skinny piece of chicken, with rice, beans, greens and some pickle.
I bought a bottle of water and had two cups of masala tea, which was lovely. I like the way they often bring hot drinks in a flask. It’s very handy and is usually enough for two cups.
I was checking the route from there to Iringa but was also chatting to Danish Michael. He gave me a contact of a guy in Mbeya, who he described as Paul, the Mad Butcher. I was going to try to get further than that next day but this guy was English so it would have been a shame to ride past him. I messaged him on WhatsApp and booked a room for two nights at his place.
I stayed a second day at Sumbawanga. After breakfast I went out to sort out the bike. I took the LH pannier off then when I looked at the bike I got a massive shock.
The fuel can wasn’t there! The securing clamp was still loosley attached but no can. Obviously that awful road had rattled it loose. What a disaster! If I’d used the fuel in there, would that have happened? I’ll never know.
I was going to Malawi soon, the place where everyone says to carry as much fuel as possible. I was going to have to find a temporary solution to that problem. I decided to ask Paul when I saw him. I hoped he might have an unused 5L can around the place.

I tackled the bent pannier frame and after loosening all the mounting bolts I managed to get that lower mounting bracket back on. I didn’t have any way of bending the frame back in shape but by manipulating the mounting bolts I managed to get it all lined up and secured.
I straightened out the front forks. Checked the chain and did a couple of other minor repairs. After that the bike was back as it should be. But I was still mighty upset about that missing fuel can.
While I was doing this I chatted to a guy whose scooter was parked next to me. He had on a green hat, showing his support for the president. We talked about the election. I commented that Big Mamma would probably win by 85%. He agreed. I said all her opposition is in prison. No, he said, there’s 11 candidates on the ballot. I said that her main opponent is in prison. He just said, of course! So funny.
Back on the internet I applied for a Malawi e-visa but Irish passports don’t need one. That was actually not a surprise. I’ve searched for things to see there and have marked some places.
Next morning, after a very average breakfast, I fueled up and hit the road. It was asphalt all the way. I was very pleased.
A lot of the fields were bare, having been harvested. Lots of people had sugar cane strapped to the back of their bicycles. The main items being transported were water and wood. It was odd to see women carrying bundles of sticks on their heads.

The road wasn’t busy until I got near to Tunduma. I came cross a queue of trucks about 3kms long. It made it very difficult to get through the town.
I turned off where Google told me to but that road was closed for roadworks. So I had to go further along the main road to a roundabout where I turned onto the A104 to Mbeye. That was where the front of the truck queue seemed to be and it looked as if the problem was simply trucks getting round the roundabout in the centre of town. There was an equally long queue on the A104 going towards that roundabout.
The road itself was in really bad condition, with grooves worn into the road from the weight of the trucks.
Once I’d found my way into Paul’s place I was made to feel very welcome with a coffee. I have an ensuite room where I was able to get a nice warm shave and shower. Meanwhile, Paul was in the pub nearby.

Paul is from Bradford but has lived in Africa since the 1970s, mostly in Zimbabwe. He has a butchery business in Mbeya but has worked for various companies as a sales rep. He’s 5 years younger than me.
I asked him about the huge number of trucks in Tumunda and he said it’s because trucks from so many countries use the road as a transit route to Dar Es Salaam. It’s a much cheaper port than using those in South Africa. The Zambian border is in the town, hence the massive queues.
He has a young African woman, named Happiness, to look after him and an older one who visits now and then. She’s a former partner and now lives in Dar Es Sallam.
Happiness cooked me some food and I had two beers. One was a Castle lager and the other was a locally produced Guinness, which wasn’t too bad.
I told Paul about the loss of my fuel can and he said he was sure he’d be able to sort something out for me.
The next day was a lazy one. I chatted to Paul about his history and about his life in Tanzania. He has an ex wife in South Africa, with whom he has good relations, and two daughters living in England.
A German family arrived during the afternoon. They were in a car and on their way to Namibia where he’ll be working for a German NGO, just like Achim in Uganda. They had three kids and they’re all very blond, like their mother.
There’s a young Norwegian guy, Emil, lodging with Paul on a long term basis too.
One of the men who works for Paul was messing about with his motorbike so I asked him what was wrong. He said the main fuse kept blowing. I immediately checked the wiring by the head stock and pointed out to him the bare wire which was probably earthing against the petrol tank. He is due to see a mechanic and he’ll point it out to him.
We went to the hotel where Paul has his daily two beers. The Castle lager they sell was actually not too bad. Had I found that elusive lager with taste? No. Such a thing doesn’t exist, as any beer drinker will confirm. But the pizza they supplied did have taste, so it wasn’t all bad.

In the morning I headed up to Iringa. There were lots of trucks to deal with, in both directions. As Paul had said, the road was in very poor condition for about 115kms at which point it widened out and improved massively. The trucks had worn deep troughs in the road, but mostly on the opposite side to me, fortunately.
It was a good ride although boring at times. The road went up and down hills, usually in a straight line, but mostly climbing, up to 1900m at one point. Iringa sits at 1600m.
In one of the towns there was a troop of soldiers. I stopped, but was waved on. I spotted a filling station that had a café and grabbed a tea and a doughnut.
Paul had told me all about the Neema Crafts Café and suggested I stay there. The room I had wasn’t great but it was good enough especially for the price. Breakfast next morning was very good and was competently served by the deaf staff. I had to write down my choice on a pad and they fulfilled the order.
I loafed on the internet until midday before riding the 20kms down to Isimila Stone. This was an amazing place. A guide was included in the entry fee and she was very good.
First we looked at a collection of stone tools used by Homo Erectus about 3-400,000 years ago. They just look like stones until you think about their shape and usage.

Then we walked down into the dry river valley to see the rock towers. These looked incredible. They’re of limestone, capped with basalt. Aeons of rain has worn away the surrounding rock, leaving these towers behind.
There are those which are like fingers and those that are wider. Also some that are part of the cliff face.
She offered me a short cut back to the start point but I wanted to see it all. So we walked along the river bed with me photoing everything in sight. My right knee was sore by the time we finished.
Back at the start there’s a museum showing the known history of the area, including human development. It actually used to be a lake before it dried out. My guide pointed out the hills that surround it, suggesting it was a caldera. All very fascinating. A few photos follow.

Back at base I had coffee and cake then visited the Iringa Boma Cultural Museum. The building was built by the Germans, then used by the British and Tanzanians for various purposes. In 2016 it was renovated and became the museum.
It’s got lots of info boards telling the story of the area and the history of the town. Especially noted is the resistance to the Germans of Chief Mkwawa, who beat them up quite often before being trapped. He killed his guards then himself rather than be captured.
The Germans sent his head to be put on display in Berlin. It was ordered to be returned to his family as part of the 1919 Versailles Agreement, although that didn’t happen until 1954.
There was info about other sites to visit, including a museum dedicated to Mkwawa, and some rock paintings. I considered staying another day to go and see them. But I was mostly convinced to not bother. With the forthcoming election things might become difficult.
Looking ahead to entering Malawi I worked out that a hotel in there is only 3.5 hours from Paul’s place in Mbeya, which isn’t as far as I thought.
I read up on the Neema Crafts Café. It was set up by a German woman in 2003 specifically to give employment to deaf people. Most of the café staff are deaf. There is a big workshop which makes local crafts. That is mostly staffed by disabled people. The whole scheme employs about 130 people.

I went to the Clock Tower café for tea and had what was supposed to be fish in coconut stew with rice. But it came out as fish in sauce with rice and veg. But very nice all the same.
Next day was the election. Paul and I had discussed whether it would be better to travel on that day or the next one, when the results might be announced, possibly providing an excuse for disturbances. I’d decided to travel on Wednesday, election day.
Much to my annoyance the café was closed, for cleaning as far as I could tell. I wasn’t happy at having to go and buy something I’d already paid for in the room fee. Tower Café provided a cheap and decent breakfast after which I hit the road.
The most remarkable thing about the trip back to Mbeya was the dearth of traffic. Very few trucks or buses and very few cars. I left at 10.20 on a clear and sunny morning. Everything looked fresh and lovely. The road was clear almost all the way down.
When I stopped for fuel I ate a snack and had a drink, then carried on. Further down I caught up with a row of trucks and wondering if this was THE queue. It wasn’t. There was a crane blocking the road while it pulled a truck out of the ditch. I took a photo then rode around it.

The real problem came when I got to the town of Uyole, not far from Mbeya. I hadn’t seen any election activity while riding but this place made up for it in spades.
I could see smoke and activity further down the road so I got close enough to take a photo then turned back which everyone was indicating I needed to.
There was a dirt road that ran parallel to the main road so I took to that. Another guy on a bike was in front of me and when we turned down a road to get back to the main road that was blocked too.
He told me to follow him and we went further along the parallel dirt road but still couldn’t get onto the main road because of the protests. He kept stopping to ask people, who directed him along yet more back roads.
In the end he asked me where I was going and he said he could get me there if I would pay him. I was happy to do that.

And so began a mad ride down ever more, and ever further, dirt roads and alleyways. At one point we got close to the main road but after he spoke to somebody we had to delve even further .
He spoke to someone then used Google translate to tell me we could get through although the road was bad but safe. He was right. It was both of those but we got through after lots of twists, turns and big bumps. If he and his 150cc Chinese bike could handle it then so could my Honda and I.
Eventually we got to the main road and I took over the lead up towards Paul’s place. I stopped and told him I was almost at my destination but avoided revealing exactly where it was. I offered him 10K but he asked for 30 – £10. That was OK by me. I wouldn’t have got back without him.
I don’t know why but he insisted on exchanging phone numbers. A while later he texted me saying he was in trouble, and saying something about his bike, which I didn’t understand. I didn’t bother replying and when I showed it to Paul later he said to ignore it, he just wants more money. And that’s why I didn’t reveal where I was staying.
I’d sensed something wrong with my front tyre when we got back on asphalt. I checked the pressure – zero. I examined the tyre and was pleased to see what looked like a tiny nail in it. Pleased because it meant it wasn’t an issue with the spoke sealing.
Later on Paul and I went to the hotel for a beer. While we were sitting there we heard tear gas being fired (I’d already ridden through a slight trace of it) and small arms fire as well. Things were hotting up!
Paul got a message saying there was a curfew from 6pm. This was at exactly 6pm! But there was no internet and there hadn’t been any for some time.
Back at base Paul and his senior girlfriend Ali (from Dar Es Salaam) were getting reports of dead police and protesters in Mbeya, plus one or two other places. He said he’ll get the full info tomorrow. We felt that things would likely calm down next day. Little did we know.
What follows are the unedited entries into my journal. You might get a better sense of how things had been going, what we’d heard and what had been happening.

Thursday.
After breakfast I sorted out the tyre. It wasn’t a nail after all but a hole caused by, I presume, a sharp rock. I did the repair. After a while I inflated it and checked it a few hours later. It had dropped by 7psi. A few hours after that it had dropped another 2. I put spit all over the repair but there was no sign of air. I then pumped it up to 43psi and I’ll check it again in the morning.
There was talk of 30 dead around Mbeya. That’s yet to be confirmed. The govt announced on TV that people should work from home today. It’s increasingly clear that I was very lucky to have met that Boda rider yesterday.
It’s obvious there’s a real undercurrent of discontent here, seemingly worse than in Kenya. Being prepared to kill police is a whole level up from merely rioting.
A government building in Uyole was attacked and set on fire yesterday. It was the revenue office but there was no money there. Paul thought they may have wanted to destroy records.
This is the first election this president has had to face because she was initially appointed following the death of her predecessor. Paul opined that Muslim leaders always mean trouble. Really? I’m afraid I have no way of telling.
I intend to stay here until at least Saturday. It’s safe and comfortable, with good company. But there’s still no internet.

I sorted out a lid and stopper for the can Paul found me and have strapped in on on top of the blue bag on my bike. The fuel bladder will go on top of my bag.
I went for a snooze and after that we went down the hotel. We could still hear the occasional tear gas bomb being fired. The streets were very quiet.
We loafed around for the rest of the evening, trying to find some half decent terrestrial TV to watch. There wasn’t anything of note. Paul mostly watches TV via the internet.

Friday
A quiet morning. I checked the tyre pressure and 43psi had gone down to 17. I pumped it up to 22 and that went down to a 7psi later. It was looking like I needed to get a proper repair.
Almost no noises off at first. But as the day went by it built up. Lots of ear gas bombs. Some small arms fire. Paul rode his bike down to the local shops and reported that some small ones were open.
He was making the point that people needed to eat and, being the end of the month, needed to get their money. The rumour was that ATMs weren’t working. He was told that two women who went down to the shops for food were shot and killed by the police. True? Who knows. I carried on with my blog. There was a shower of rain this afternoon. I had a shower and then we went down the hotel.
Paul was saying that Ali (his main girlfriend) doesn’t want to believe the rumours that have been coming in. He says it’s because she works for the govt and doesn’t think it can all be true.
Paul had been receiving messages and calls and this is the things he’d been told.

One woman was sending cryptic messages about how what had been sown was now being reaped. The suggestion was that this unrest had been organised some time ago in anticipation of the election.
The police had run out of tear gas so were now more likely to use bullets.
Seven hundred people had died in Arusha, one of the centres of rebellion. That said to me that this was war rather than unrest. But the truth of any of these figures is unknown.
Thirty people had been killed in Mbeya. Moshi, near to Arusha, was also a centre of unrest. Trouble happened in Iringa today as well, according to a friend of Paul’s who lives there.
Mobs of youths were calling at peoples’ houses and press ganging the young lads who lived there into joining them. So the rumours say.

During the evening we heard plenty of tear gas bombs and also some small arms fire. When we left the hotel after our beers there was an APC parked opposite. On the way back we got stopped at a road block but Paul seemed to know the guy so we were OK.
Generally, things don’t seem to be getting quieter. They seem to be ramping up.
Paul reckons things will quieten down when the presidential results are announced tomorrow. One of the TV channels has been announcing the MP’s results, all day long.
Am I worried? Not really, but I’m aware that things could get worse before they get better. But Paul has a generator, plenty of food and his water tanks are full. I’m very pleased that I’m here rather than stuck in a hotel somewhere.
Although that Boda boy has tried to contact me a few times and has been ignored, I’m still very grateful to him for getting me here.
Still no internet today.

Saturday
Paul and I drove out this morning to get feed for his chickens. We managed to get eggs as well, while Ali got bread.
The streets were mostly deserted but there was plenty of evidence of the troubles, with burn marks on the road and detritus pushed over to one side. Small groups of people were hanging around.
Only small shops were open but there was no evidence of damaged buildings. No fuel stations were open and the land borders are closed.
We went out again later to make a delivery. No change in the situation. A few cars and bikes were around but no Bajajis or mini buses.
As Paul was saying, people are going to be getting desperate now. They rely on their small, street-side trading for money for food.
Big Mama will get sworn in today so the hope is that things will relax and open up. But she will be installed tomorrow. So maybe then.

I used my international SIM to contact my family in case any of them were worried. But they hadn’t seen the news so none of them were concerned.
Paul usedmy SIM to contact his wife in South Africa and his daughter in England, so as to get them to send an email to Emil’s parents. It turned out he’d managed to contact them anyway. But as at 14.15, still no internet.
Loafed, wrote and slept. We went down to the hotel for beer. While we were there Paul got a message from the Norwegian guy, Emil. He’s staying out at the Utengule coffee lodge, which is an expensive resort/country club in a coffee plantation.
He said that a mob of youngsters forced their way into it, drunk and looking for food. The women working there were justifiably very frightened. The military were called who came and sorted it out. No deaths that we know of but there’s no knowing what went on after they were arrested.
Paul and I went for our usual beer. Ali will leave tomorrow arvo. Paul will take her to the airport, but in time for beer.
I discovered that there’s such a thing as Swahili time. It’s six hours behind normal time. I had to find out why.

Sunday
It’s been very quiet this morning but Paul spoke to someone who said the international airport is closed. It’s hard to know what is rumour and what is fact.
The presidential inauguration is supposed to take place one week after the election. But it seems likely they will bring it forward to tomorrow, in the hope of then being able to open things up. I’m guessing there’s some degree of international pressure behind this. The problem for Zambia and Malawi is that they rely on fuel coming up from Dar Es Salaam via road tanker. Tanzania’s shut down means that all of those are parked up going nowhere.
Because all the servos are closed the price of roadside petrol has gone up to 10k, or even higher. Diesel is slightly less.
Emil arrived back from Utengale still looking a bit shaken up. He’s only twenty five and the kind of thing he was involved in is way outside his experience. He arrived with a friend and they’re going to stay in a hotel.
He said the owner and son of the coffee plantation resort are talking about getting rifles and shooting any other attackers. Emil had no interest in anything like that, hence his reason for leaving. It would be a very foolish thing to do anyway. The owner of the resort is very unpopular with his staff because of the appalling way he treats them. We wondered whether the mob attack on the resort was related to that.
A government minister came on TV and Ali gave us the gist of it. He was talking about the troubles, playing things down. Yes, there have been deaths but not many. He said people should go about their normal business as much as they can tomorrow. ATMs and filling stations will open soon. Internet? I’m still not sure about that.
The rumour that the water had been poisoned was false, as were many other rumours.
He said the internet had been blocked to prevent false rumours being spread and for security reasons. It also has the effect of preventing protesters from organising
Was he telling the truth? Who knows. But here in Mbeya we can still hear teargas bombs being fired. Tomorrow is another day and who knows what it will bring.
Paul took Ali to the local airport for her flight back to Dar Es Salaam. Then we went out for our beers.
One thing that can be said about all this is that being cut off from the internet, and therefore the rest of the world, is almost unbearable.

Monday
Today has been much the same as yesterday. Unexpectedly, Paul is now able to get satellite TV and we were able to watch Al Jazeera.
They showed a report featuring members of the Tanzanian opposition/resistance who had phone video footage of some of the deaths that have occurred. Over 800, they claim.
Some people have been shot in the head, suggesting extra judicial killings. But the certainty of that is unknown.
If this is true then it gives the lie to what the government minister was saying yesterday. Not a surprise really.
At about 10am Paul and I went out for a drive. Almost every shop and business closed, apart from a few street side stalls and small butchers shops. An open air vegetable market was operating.
One filling station was open, busy with boda boda bikes, but under the control of the police. We stopped at an ATM but none of them were working.
There were more people around than when we went out last time, including some boda boda bikes and a couple of bajajis. But no mini buses, which are what most people rely on to get to work.
The presidential inauguration took place today, two days earlier than would be normal. The intention is to complete the process of putting the new president in place in the hope that it will calm down the situation. We watched it on TV. She ‘won’ the election with 98% of the ‘vote’, which tells you everything you need to know.
After a boring afternoon we went to the hotel for beer and the internet came back on. We are finally back in touch with the world!
Paul cooked pork chops and chips for tea and we both spent the evening catching up on social media. I had 123 emails to read. There’s still 100 to go.

Tuesday
When I woke up this morning there was no power. But it soon came back on. That’s the first power cut we’ve had during this crisis and is probably unrelated.
But the internet has gone off again.
Paul went out on his bike for a look see. He said the streets are busy and everything is open, including the tyre shop. So we managed to get my bike lifted up onto a crate and took the front wheel out, then took it down there.
I stopped at an ATM on the way and it worked OK.

The guy at the tyre shop checked my original repair for leakage, which I’d already done anyway, and it was OK. Then he checked the rim and there was air coming out around the edge.
He broke the bead of the tyre and cleaned the inner edge of the rim. It’s possible it may have got dust between the rim and the tyre while I was riding with the flat tyre. One disadvantage of tubeless tyres I suppose.
It’s got 40psi in it and I’ll check it again tomorrow. Fingers crossed.

Wednesday
A good day. First job was to check the tyre pressure. 40psi had dropped to 37. I was more than happy with that. After some tea and toast I put the wheel back in and got it back down on the ground.
Paul rang his contact down at the border who said it will open today. He’ll check again tomorrow arvo and if all is well I’ll leave on Friday.

We went out for a drive to a butchers, were Paul got some stuff. Then to the supermarket where I got some tea, jam and apples. Normality seemed to be resumed.
The rest of the day was spent loafing until it was time for beer.
Emil, the Norwegian guy, came back soon after that and was telling us about events up at Utengule. A South African guy who arrived there, and another one who was already there were all for arming themselves and if the mob came back again they’d shoot them. Utter stupidity! Emil and his friend very sensibly got out of there.
Emil showed me some awful videos of dead people and of bodies piled up. That figure of of 800 dead, put out by the opposition via Al Jazeera, begins to look very believable. But everything here has been calm for the last few days.

Thursday
The front tyre pressure was, oddly, back up to 39psi. I suppose that a warmer ambient temperature caused that.
The word on the street is that there will be more protests on Sunday. I aim to definitely cross into Malawi on Saturday.

I went with Paul to visit his friends Rob and Petra. They run a dairy farm and avocado plantation. It’s out at Rungwe, which is about 65kms from here. It’s up in the hills and it was a very good drive. One of the towns we passed through had ‘enjoyed’ some protest activity, judging by the scorch marks on the road.
It was a 7km drive up a rough old track to get to the house. Paul collected the butter he’d come for then we were treated to breakfast.
Rob is South African and his wife (12 years older than him) is German. They have kids, who are grown up and live elsewhere.

The house is really nice, with a very ‘homestead’ flavour to it. They have staff there too, including a chef.
During our chat there was speculation that more trouble would come along. The chef agreed with this.
I also met Mark, a very interesting character. He works as a business partner on the estate, focusing on developing the business. A while ago he walked across Canada! That’s getting on for 6,000kms. He’s also toured around the States. We had a good chat about travel, but not for long as he had to go.

Back at base a young couple arrived in their Toyota. Roux and Tina are from South Africa and had been in Kenya. They’d stayed with Paul on the way north. They need a repair as they have brake fluid leaking out.
Ali rang Paul and told him that her cousin was one of those killed in Dar Es Salaam. They have his body and the funeral will be tomorrow. It puts a different flavour on things when someone you know is affected.
Paul and I went for our usual beer then he cooked lamb chops for everyone.

Friday
Life pretty much returned to normal. The couple’s car went off for repair today and it turned out to be a leaking hub seal. They were pleased with that.
The bike tyre pressure was still 39psi, which says that the pressure losses that have been a feature of recent weeks were nothing to do with the spoke sealing band at all. It now makes me wonder about the pressure loss in the rear tyre.

We all went out for a few bits for Paul. We went to buy eggs and saw, and held, some one day old chicks.
Then we went out again and I filled my spare can and fuel bladder, ready for departure.
I looked at some videos on Youtube about Tanzania. Nothing as bad as what Emil showed me but they did confirm the many deaths, which the govt deny.
The definite word on the street is that more protests will occur on Sunday. I’ll definitely leave tomorrow. I hope that nobody decides to start early!
Paul’s colleague, Faith, rang up about the border and it will be open from 7am, or 1pm Swahili time. Google says their time is based on sunrise and sunset, which is at 6am and 6pm. Because most Swahili countries are close to the equator this works well enough.
We went for beer as usual. Then Paul did a cook out. Faith had prepared lots of cold stuff and Paul had chopped up plenty of meat.
Guests came, including Mark the doctor and his daughter. And Rob, from South Africa and I can’t remember what he does.
To begin with there were hollow, crispy balls which you cracked the top of to make a hole, filled them with egg, guacamole and cheese, then ate them whole. Similar to what I’d seen in India. Followed by meat fried with our choice of veges. A very good meal and a great way to finish off my visit.

Enough of my journal! At least you now all know what nonsense I write down at the end of the day. Saturday came. I ate breakfast, paid my debts, said goodbye to Paul and headed for the border. I’d enjoyed Paul’s company very much and was grateful to him for giving me a safe and friendly place to shelter.