oh ah glenwood

don't panic. we still have our tach's. and our eyebrow's. just. but it was a close call. we had to high-tail it out of there. we sure did leave a trail of destruction. couldn't risk another night. would have ended in disaster.

it sure was real while it lasted though. we boozed. and then we boozed. and then we boozed some more. and then i fell in love. with a beautifully sexy italian fire dancer named antonella. but she went off with some brazilian dude. goddamn brazilian dudes. so then we boozed some more.

it started off with a few quiet ones. about 5pm. just to pass time and watch the sunset. but then the sun rose. and the young american dude was missing an eyebrow. and had chunks shaved out of his hair. and the young glenwoodian dude was also missing an eyebrow. serves him right. he had never heard of henry ate. the youth of today! and the malawian dude was lucky not to be missing his dreads. and gary was jumpy. and james was juiced. and miguel was mangled. and frank was fucked. and i was bossies... again.

we sure did laugh: convo revolved around bonsai animals (knee-high giraffes, polar bears in kitchen freezers, little dogs that would result in a huge saving on peanut butter); all the dodgy anal conditions in the whole world ever; stupid americans and the fact that "sometimes the lord does deliver"; hunting rights at mayorka village and the killing of little bunny rabbits ("you little bastards"); butch cassidy and the sundance kid and singing in the rain; anyway... don't wanna bore you... we covered a whole lot of shit. and sometimes... shit stinks.

nakata bay. malawi. a place where dreams come true. and hearts are broken.

anyway. we high-tailed it out of there. onto the ferry. covered half the lake in two days. turns out we were a bit ambitious in attempting to paddle it. would have taken 3 months. you can never trust an israeli.

and then yesterday we very nearly crashed the entire malawian minibus-taxi (daladala) economy. we hopped on. and then refused to squash up. four seats. four people. that was our policy. and we stuck to it. doggedly. we would not budge... literally. at first the okes thought it was funny. then they were confused. then angry. then aggressive. the daladala ground to a halt. driver got out waving arms. the conductor was foaming at the mouth, spitting "this is a business". we sat impassively. shrugging. our fellow passengers felt mutiny was in the air. they were ready to join the revolution. hasta la vistoria, siempre. but the movement ended as quickley as it began. a big mama got on and plonked herself down on frank's lap. the whole crowd breathed in collectively. expecting fireworks. but frank was crushed. broken. he was suffocating. he had to give way or die. he chose life. he shifted over. the resistance was broken. yet another triumph of capitalism over the people.

so off to mozam tomo. the legendary tofo. sun, sea, sand, and scando's. hold thumbs.

bossies winch

"kilimanjaro is a snow-covered mountain 19,710 feet high, and is said to be the highest mountain in africa. it's western summit is called the masai 'ngaje ngai', the house of god. close to the western summit there is the dried and frozen carcass of a leopard. no one has explained what the leopard was seeking at that altitude."

- hemingway

kilimanjaro. "where ordinary people come to do extraordinary things". ha! whatever. bet they weren't expecting that: some dude with a frozen snot-ball tach going totally bossies at the top. staggering. dance-stepping. swearing and slurring. i'm a sloppy drunk at the best of times. but at the top of the tallest free-standing mountain in the world it got messier than porto after a tequila shot.

it sure was embarrassing. staggering into to base camp hand-in-hand with a scrawny buck-toothed tanzanian guide named ernest. the 63yr old canadian tannies who had zipped up and down were sniggering and shaking their heads. the porters in my party hung their heads in shame. frank and miguel, shocked and hurt, skirted off to the tent and kept a low profile for the rest of the day. i just gabbled, stubbled, and drooled uncontrollably. my mama always used to say, life is like a box of choc-o-lates...

it all started innocently enough. we decided to go the hard-core route. not the "coca-cola route". we gave up the log cabins, and the sauna's, and the hot horny scando's for the amazing views, diverse wildlife, and authentic experience along the "machame route". and we were justified. we saw some amazing cloud formations during our six days camping in the freezing cold and rain. we also managed to see a mouse. at the summit there is a piece of wood.

still it is all my own fault. i vowed after climbing huanyi potosi in bolivia that i would never in the whole world ever climb another mountain again. pete... where were you in my time of need??? you bastard. anyway... so i vow never in the whole world ever to climb another mountain in the whole world ever again.

i am now going to eat steers. drink beer. party. i hope. and then head off to malawi on monday.

my tach survives! so long. fuckers.

a cute story

here is a nice story to make you smile...

i first picked up my hat in jerusalem. i liked him so much i swopped another hat in order to get him from stuart. he was just a young chap then, but it was the start of an awesome time in both our lives. we travelled and grew together. israel. egypt. sudan. ethiopia. kenya. tanzania. and as we travelled i began to love him. and he began to love me too. and he made me promise never to leave him. and i promised. and it made us both so happy.

and then one day, i left him. i left him on a bus. and i was heart broken. it was so sad. i moped around town. i even went bossies for a few days (though i blamed it on altitude sickness). i thought my life would never be the same. and it wasn't. something was broken.

and then another day i innoccently stepped onto a bus. and i put my stuff in the overhead storage compartment. and there he was. just sitting quietly in a dark corner waiting for me. a warm sensation ran through me. tears filled my eyes. and i said: that's my hat bru. and it was my hat. and i put him on my head. and he cried. and i cried. and we were both so happy. and we were complete again. and i promised never ever to leave him again. and i will never ever leave him again.

the end.

karibu sana

eish... it sure has been a busy few weeks:

masai mara. fifteen 12yr old boy scouts. two scout masters. a guide named fred. a rotten stinking ostrich egg. you must drop it... away, AWAY. the deep heat incident. an overnight train. mombassa. idyllic beach. tiwi beach. picking coconuts. eating fresh fruit salad (with avocado). mango man. drinking tea with the isreali jim morrison. camp-fires. tusker. guitar. singing. swimming in the warm sea at 2am, short rains pit-pattering in the water around us. sleeping in the restaurant. stubbing toes. not showering for five whole days. probably the reason that my foot is now red and infected and swollen. plane with no doors. fear of the unknown. sky-diving. sensory overload. re-experiencing beer for the first time. matatus. lots of matatus. 24 people in a matatu. crossing tanzania border. tanga. dar es salaam. virgin kitty master medal wearer. for os. zanzibar. mysterious place: like timbuktu, or katmandu, or galapagos, or toti. stone town. white-washed buildings. thick stones. wooden balconies. narrow alleyways. easy to get lost. prawns. lobster. squid. octopus. dopey's soul mate. the devil incarnate. old four-eyed frank. mastering a manual scooter. getting arrested soon after. crashing soon after that. road trip. wind in our tach's. paje. the most beautiful beach in the whole world ever. scooting. running. sweating. sea spray from the ferry. debonaires. regular bowel movements. deep heat tucked safely away. quality. oh... and i picked up a ying ring somewhere along the way.

only downside: martin jol. i love martin jol. martin jol loves me.

off to killi tomo. wish me luck. my toes better heal soon. otherwise i may have to sacrifice one or two for the greater good of the group. the good news is that neither of the big toes is in danger. although i've always had a soft spot for all of my toes.

and he still gives his love
he just gives it away
the love he receives
is the love that is saved

mambo jambo

it has recently come to my attention that my last few african posts have been full of scorn. downbeat scathing rants. my humblest apologies. it was never my intention to come across as such a moany bum.

sure we've endured some rough times. tough, tough times. we've had trains and buses and matatu's (minivan taxi's) and tuc tuc's straight from hell. we've been lied to, stolen from, sworn at, cursed, cheated, extorted, arrested, beaten, and tortured. well... maybe not arrested, beaten, and tortured... but just about. we've seen folks who are lepers, people who are maimed, disfigured, people who walk on all-fours. we've endured moments of gross incompetence. i mean: my camera got chopped up by a lawnmower goddammit. we've been shitting, farting, burping, and vomiting in almost every country we've been in. we've slept in bug infested sheets, out in the open under the rain, on muddy benches, and on dusty restaurant floors. and the toilets: foul-smelling shitholes... literally. we've been lonely, impatient, frustrated, angry, and broken-hearted. i've even had frank's deep-heat-smeared finger up my ass for fuck's sake.

but like "simple guy" little once said to me: ja... but it's the kind of hardship and complaining traveler's love. what's the point of traveling and not experiencing anything new? anything out of the norm? traveling within your comfort zone? in hardship is where you find the truth... it makes you seek. seek and ye shall find. that's what a wise man once said anyway.

besides there have been some good times. ummm... errr... like... errr... like that one time... ummm... in that hotel... ummm... in nairobi. we were bored and... errr... oh and tiwi beach. that was nice. and the boks winning the world cup. that was great.

also individual responsibility. that is good. no red tape. no blame culture (in everyday living - politics is another subject altogether). there are no railings on a ferry because if you fall off you are stupid. not because you dreamed of having sexual relations with your mother as an infant and therefore society is against you and it gave you suicidal tendancies which were exaggerated by the rail-less ferries which means you can sue the ass off of anyone you wish. no. not here. no lawyers. no attorneys. you fall off, you're stupid. it's your fault.

and the sense of community in africa. people smiling, and laughing, and chatting, and engaging constantly. kids outdoors, playing, screaming, giggling. there are no tv's, no radio's, no ipods to distract them. dialogue. genuine interest in the other person. warm and welcoming. sharing. and the smiles. beeg smiles.

i love the african philosophy and the african way of life. it's not overly complicated. it's simple. the way life should be. you order feesh... you get feesh.

TIA bru. this is africa. this is home. africa can be summed up by fred. our game range driver in the masai mara. the african world according to fred:

question: fred... what are we going to see today?
african answer: eish... let us just see... what we will see. (beeg smile).