There is time to contemplate how far we’ve come, from Cape Town to Kenya, to the beaches of Mozambique. Jim asked me where I thought we’d be without the Garmin and Traks4Africa – I said “Back home and divorced by now.” We are happily long past the point when every other minute brought on another decision. Tension ran high; that’s what comes of the being way outside your comfort zone. What would we change, now that we have time to think about it? Nothing, really. We couldn’t have taken this overland trip any sooner in our lives and the best time to go is when you go. The route has been successful – we calculated we’ve been on beaches of some sort since November, can’t complain about that. Neither of us has been sick. We’ve been through four different coffee presses, five decks of cards and one iPhone as well as countless cans of Peaceful Sleep insect repellent. We will not miss the mosquitoes.
There are places to return to and some gaps to fill, next time. Driving Namibia for months gave us a full view of that endless country. Botswana needs another look, hopefully before this trip is over. We’ve already been to Zimbabwe twice and will go back again later this month, so much to see there. Zambia is a favorite, where I am positive we waved to every single person in that friendly country. Tanzania nearly broke the bank but with its iconic parks it could not be missed. Zanzibar showed us our first taste of the slavers coast plus powered-sugar white sand beaches. The side trip to Ethiopia, that exotic place, was perfect. Camel caravans hauling salt into the sunset – what a scene.
Rwanda – a sobering lesson in humanity. One day we came to a nondescript village and it was time to get out of the truck. A large Genocide Memorial stood out, as in every single town and village. Only this one wasn’t quite finished yet. The very young security guard called an older gentleman to show us around this newly built but empty building. And the blank walls spoke as loudly as any placards. The hollow hallways echoed the footsteps of everyone who would never walk there. Finally we found ourselves in a basement containing 38 coffins, displayed neatly as if in a show room. Some had framed photos propped upon them, others had snapshots scotched-taped to them. To our undying surprise, the guide opened a coffin and handed us a small human skull. All these coffins have skulls, he said. At this location a church was bulldozed with thousands of people in it. His children are here, in one of the coffins. He shared his photos of them with us. We thanked him, signed the guest book and drove away. Rwanda; a country where everything is new because there was nothing left.
The primates in Uganda revel in the simplicity of life. We camped, all alone, in the Kibale forest and had a troop of 50+ baboons invade the clearing; they played, groomed each other and goofed off all morning, just having a good time being together. On the eastern side of the country we came to one of our better decisions – we really wanted to drive a certain road to enter Kenya. On the map it looked totally doable. But it was raining. Hard. And pondering the options, we bypassed that road only to later meet a couple who had taken it; a heart-stopping track, they said “like driving on butter.” We spent a few minutes patting ourselves on the back for not going there. Of course that was prior to being desperately stuck in the mud twice in one week.
Kenya, that most organized of countries, gave us so many new friends. Eldoret town, Lake Turkana, the National Museum, JJs in Nairobi, Samburu Park, the fabulous Twiga and Barefoot beaches, Malindi town – I would go back to Kenya tomorrow. It took days for me to get over leaving Twiga; I kept asking myself why we left. But leaving there led us to Malawi and to time spent with our friends Jen and Jared. And on we go; more of Mozambique to see, more Zimbabwe, South Africa and camping with Adrian and Rentia, Swaziland, Lethoso, Botswana . . . where will it end?
Did you know it is a Kenyan tradition to go to the beach on January 1? Now that is a tradition worth keeping around – dress up and come to the beach for a day. Forget your troubles, walk the shore, swim. Have a picnic. Camp. Carloads of people came to Twiga from nearby Mombasa to do all that. And now one can take the Nairobi-to-Mombasa train, that’s a popular service, and drive the short distance to Diani or Tiwi beaches. At the end of the first day of the new year, hundreds of Kenyans were walking up and down the shore dressed in fantastically colored robes and scarves and perfecting an already perfect scene.The color combinations were glorious – as bright and neon as the fish in the tide pools. It was a sight to behold. A full moon shone on us all on and now, today, nearly everyone is gone.
It is day twenty-two of our anchorage on this shoreline. We drove in and parked and haven’t moved camp since. Along with our neighbors, Gustav and Nancy, we are the only campers taking advantage of the unobstructed view camping on the sand affords. Gustav regularly camps at Twiga – he and Nancy have children. Imagine being a seven-year old boy and spending days on end at the beach. Yes. Some campers and picnickers we visited with have been coming to Twiga for years. One motorcycle group was ending a 37-year stint of basing at Twiga for the holidays; they drove away for the very last time a couple of days ago. Several big overland tours have come and gone. They park down the way from us, back in the trees and we wouldn’t even know they were there but for the visual. One of my favorite camp supporters is Abdul the fruit seller who comes by with his bicycle basket full of apple mangos, pineapple and whatnot. He has been doing this for 25+ years. Fish sellers offer the freshest catch and they will filet it for you right now. Coconuts carved into darling little monkeys are the curio rage – Gustav tells us the coconut animals change every year. If I could think of a place to hang it I would buy one. Or two. There are trees behind the beach that form a dark shady canopy for monkeys, birds and campers. There is a stupendous baobab tree smack in the middle of camp. Just down the shore is a little restaurant where if (when) you finally tire of lukewarm beer, you can get a cold one from the bar. The camp staff does a remarkable job keeping things clean considering there are people and monkeys to tidy up after.
Gustav and Nancy invited us to celebrate New Year’s Eve with them and their friends; Gustav procured a huge white snapper fish plus a local chef to prepare it. Those delectable apple mangos made a salad, Pauline made her famous calamari, cardamon sweet potatoes in coconut milk rounded out the menu and for dessert Jim and I baked a chocolate cake and a vanilla cake. There were no leftovers. Of anything. Happy New Year.
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