So this is what I sort of saw on my arrival — sort of because it was actually dark then. The sign with „welcome“ in all different languages was made by the WWOOFers who left the day after I arrived, and I think that is a good symbol of how everything is still in a process of growth here. The house right behind the signs is the „WWOOFers‘ house“ where I sleep.

Also these decorations in the entry to the house are brand new, and this is the previous WWOOFers‘ luggage. Three lovely young Argentineans. By the way, the country flags are only from nationalities who have been there before, so even in a year or so a lot has already happened. The other picture is a maracuja (passion fruit) flower, and in the background my comfy double bed and net. Oh how glad I am I have it, thank you again and again Johannes!

This is an impression from the heart of the Fazenda, on the right of this picture is the „séde“, the main house, and to building on the left comprises the kitchen, a small library/TV room and the „salão“, dining and living room.

So this is the inside of the „salão“, first looking towards the kitchen then towards the couches.

An outside view of the salão building from where the other picture ended, and the back side terrace where we mostly eat. More on the jabuticaba tree right next to the terrace below.

Nice little details in and around the house: a coffee bag on an old-school coffee balance with a dead moth on it. The bell that calls us to the meals and has already given me a sort of Pavlov-Reflex.

This is the delicious salad buffet fresh from the garden we eat twice a day. Curious that people around the world use lemon juice instead of vinegar for salad dressings.

If a little hunger manages to show up between the meals, or if I’m smart enough to not eat until I’m bursting full, these fruit baskets are waiting.

This is the garden where the vegetables come from and where we (the WWOOFers) sometimes work, too.

Sebastien, „Francês da Africa“, and myself with a little harvest for our dinner on a weekend that we spent on the farm alone.

Pictures from the fruit tree of national pride „Jabuticaba“, which flowers and gives fruit directly on the stem. This is the tree right next to the terrace, stunningly beautiful and filled with the humming of bees.

And because this is tropical enough to not have strict seasons, another tree nearby already had fruits which I went to harvest with the wonderful Lucia who’s in charge of the vegetable garden and the chicken, and José the gardener, a man who definitely loves his plants.

A lake in the middle of the property, and some of the former workers‘ houses who are now mostly unused, waiting to be restored for an increasing flow of partners and guests into the Fazenda.

Another mostly historic structure, the big terraces for drying the coffee. In the far distance on the right the metal frames which are used for the higher quality processing of the present-day small quantities.

Storage rooms and an old-fashioned, loud and fascinating sawmill, in action.

A machine for sorting the coffee beans, at another farmer’s place which we used on the weekend. The bags piling to the ceiling are his, and the pile in the foreground are some of ours.

Another curious tree with the fitting name „Mamica de Porca“ (pig’s tits).

Some of the many many birds which populate the Fazenda, their songs and other sounds always filling the air.

An old tree nearby the houses.

And a few more nature impressions from around the house: A pepper tree and a wasp nest; the flowers of something similar to a banana plant.

A cactus flowering (well, what is there to say?).

The tree I planted on the first day, not my last one.

From a Sunday tour of the surroundings: A bigger lake, which shows how dry the last months had been.

The viewpoint is also some strange new-age temple-like thing, everything made to be symbolic of something, but feeling very random and eclectic to me. And a rattle snake on the property we saw from the car on our way home.

A little bit of work: we were putting up a bamboo mat ceiling in one of the houses to be used as a guesthouse, feeling our way „brazilian style“ as Sebstien and I would say — doing and trying things and changing the plan on the go instead of thinking about the process too much ahead of time… The two men here are Carlos and Marcos, very good hearts in a somewhat rough shell.

Me hammering on the ceiling …

… and posing for the picture. Burning our wastewood.

Our team while we’re waiting for the fire to do its work.

Now, off to the „real“ lake for the afterwork refreshment. So beautiful and remote.

Increadibly relaxing, and also the twenty minute walk back home is also filled with beauty.

And sometimes something just makes you think — me here: fences are bad.

Well, the more difficult the official way of things is, the more nice people you always encounter to smooth your way. The entry to the apartment complex of my first host already familiarized me with the security procedures which seem intense even after Johannesburg. I was waiting to be picked up in between two electric fences, a moat-like structure, where the two gates would never be opened at the same time. So this is my first picture:

And Sao Paulo is the first „dangerous“ city where I did get a little scared actually — because most people I met had a first person story of some crazy crime, being held up with a gun at the traffic lights in bright daylight and being kidnapped in the car waiting in front of a school in the afternoon are some of the highlights, but also „simple“ things like being mugged for phone and money on a daytime walk with friends in the city. Well, nothing happened to me, luckily, and the police presence is certainly also impressive.

The next day gave me this gorgeous panorama of the city, beautiful and scary at the same time. Houses as far as the eye can reach…

An inner city walk reveals the very diverse beauty of the city. Starting with the MASP, museum of art with a pretty eclectic collection, but nice architecture. And an odd hippy hut in the back yard, where you can also find people playing music, drinking, smoking, socializing at night. Some graffiti, for which SP is also rightly famous, this one if I’m not mistaken by „Os Gêmeos“, whose work I had already seen in Scotland…

I love how the different houses sometimes form a harmonic whole, and sometimes something seems very much out of place.

The Cathedral Sé was also an impressive sight in the sunset, …

… and is considered the center of Sao Paulo — all distances to the city are calculated in reference to this stone. And another tourist landmark, the municipal market („mercado municipal“), with beautiful architecture, …

… great fruit stands with all sorts of produce I had never seen before in my and (sadly) disappointing restaurants.

Two more pictures from the balcony of my first host, beautiful nightly skyline.

Why do so many universities in the world have these funny clock towers without any use? This is the USP, I think Sao Paulo’s biggest university — according to Wikipedia some 20,000 staff and almost 90,000 students. And also geographically well worth a city of its own — it took me more than an hour to walk across the campus in the shorter direction.

Another impression of Brazilian culture in the form of the bill from a bar. It is totally customary to split bills simply by the number of people without looking at who had what. Very relaxing, and works out well usually. Of course, it is true that you think twice about ordering a dessert if the others don’t. And you pay more than with the „Central European“ way of splitting if you don’t drink much, like myself. Anyway, as in this case the bill often already states how much will be each person’s share to spare you the maths, and the waiters naturally come around and swipe everybody’s credit card. Oh, a tip of 10% is also already included in the bill. You wouldn’t have to pay it, but would of course be in a slightly awkward position trying not to.

What takes the place of our German trash bins is also interesting and can be quite romantic. Or not.

Thanks to Couchsurfing, I had a great time at an afternoon flatshare party where about half the people played samba music and the other half listened, sang or danced. Only sad I was pretty tired from going out the night before… And another activity a tourist wouldn’t do: Playing (well, more learning to play) Tennis in a central park that is built all around sports.

Another museum visit, the Pinacoteca, with great architecture and interesting ways to accentuate it in a modern way — here a huge rotating mirror on the ceiling. And unexpected ways in which art comments on its contemporary life, like this depiction of a Roman slave from a time when there was slavery in Brazil. The facial expression in the picture puzzled and engaged me for quite some time.

I also loved this drawing of a city taken over by cars and found it quite suitable to include in my post on Sao Paulo.

The Pinacoteca also has nice balconies and a garden to relax in between the art experiences. And I wish I could take that weird bronze seat home.

Outside the Pinacoteca a nice park and and old train station, …

… apparently completely manufactured in Europe and only assembled here.

The good thing about modern art: You look at everyday stuff differently. „Arte no Metró“, art in the metro station of the Pinacoteca. Empty or … ? This by the way is the new „yellow“ metro line which was just recently finished, by a French company which I had the pleasure to meet some of the French workers involved with. Super high tech, not even drivers for the trains. At the same time, the busses are legally required to carry a ticket vendor along with the driver, a measure against unemployment. In general public transport is good — when you’re near a metro station life is super easy, and when you’re not you can get anywhere if you know how to use the buses, which is tricky. Anyway, unemployment seems to be almost unbearably low, companies have big trouble finding people qualified for their positions and have to resort to stealing employees from each other.

This is one of my last Sao Paulo pictures, a gorgeous sunset after my walk through the USP campus. And off to rural life again, pictures coming soon.

My first hosts recommended the Constitution Hill to me, and this was my very first activity. I realized I didn’t know a thing about the place I had gone to, really, but at least the museum guide had fun with me. And it was a one-on-one tour, too, even tough a public one. I was just the only visitor… This first picture is a nice summary of Johannesburg: On the left part of the old prison complex where black and other political prisoners were kept (among them Gandhi, more on him below). On the right the new Constitutional Court, written in all the eleven (!) official languages. And in the background the Hillbrow Tower, which had been decorated with a football for the world cup — and then repainted for a gay pride parade that took place while I was there. Old meets new in so many ways…

The museum was nicely made, this is me watching an introductory film, also all by myself. And the setup of the prison cells, which featured a strict hierarchy among the prisoners. The „bosses“ in the back, their special servants on the right, and the lowest ranks sleeping on the left literally like sardines in a can — alternately upside down, of course many more than in the demonstration.

The first sign shows the formal discrimination at the time, where white prisoners were awarded luxuries like a mattress, bedsheets and a pillow, while „non-whites“ were considered ok with „two sleeping mats and three blankets“. On the right Mahatma Gandhi, who to my surprise spent seven months imprisoned here, and many more years fighting for the rights of Indian people in South Africa (and, sadly, yes: mostly for them, largely ignoring the black’s even worse situation as far as I know).

Another touching museum exhibit: In the fight against Apartheid Gandhi’s direct political opponent was Jan Smuts, Prime Minister at the time and strong believer in racial separation. They must have both considered each other formidable enemies, for Gandhi made these sandals for Smuts while in prison, and the latter wore them proudly for 25 years. And went on to be a central figure for the establishment of both the League of Nations and the UN. How complex people are!

Now, I wasn’t alone in the museum all the time. This is a smartly dressed group of students on visit.

On into the Constitutional Court, which also tries to connect to the long history of South Africa. The leaf-shaped things on the ceiling reference traditional „African“ jurisdiction under the big tree in the village. And the bricks on the left and the staircase on the right are again preserved from the prison.

Transparency is the leading architectural theme of the court itself, again alongside traditional features like the cow skins which have something to do with one of the relevant tribes of the country. The composition of the judges sounded incredibly progressive by the way, with a blind man as well as an openly gay and HIV-positive one, and a number of women. I felt really proud to pose there with the flag. And the guide wouldn’t let me sit in one of the chairs.

The impressive wooden doors have symbols for the articles of the constitution. And the hallways has a grounding image after the elation of seeing the court and hearing about the constitution: Whites visiting the court, a black man cleaning the floor. Sadly, pretty symbolic if the life I witnessed.

This is pretty representative of the „inner outskirts“ of Johannesburg, fairly new but ugly buildings, balanced by a lot of green space for the proximity to the city center.

Also fairly symbolic: The huge car park. No way to use this city without one. And on the top of the list of improving lives in CBD, the central business district, is: Safety and Security.

The university is in this spirit a well-protected little castle where you get in only with a card that electronically opens the gate. Or a nice chat with the guy there (being white presumably helps with that). Formally, you need some sort of visitor’s pass … The picture shows how peaceful life indeed is in there.

Some of the means used to get peacefulness in your own home. There is a certain aesthetic in the rainbow-colored spikes. And a lot of sadness.

The city center: Old house, glass house, mosque and police. Further out the famous stadium, built on the site of a former mine, and using this remnant for advertising.

Also there almost too many allusions to all sorts of „traditional“ things, but looks nice.

So does the city viewed from its highest skyscraper.

And offers glimpses like this (currently or formerly) „occupied“ house. A whole different occupation from the punk-hippie one in Europe. Here, you have a big crime landlord with his own military police and an entry system as strict as the contemporary university one’s. He’ll also tap the city’s electricity for you and make sure nobody comes to disconnect. But he doesn’t care about the trash… The next picture reveals even older history, where blacks and whites couldn’t sleep in the same house. But you needed those black workers if something broke in your house in the night, and couldn’t always wait for somebody to find them in their shantytown. So: Build a house on the house, well hidden away too, for them to stay.

Despite the way they were treated, many blacks tried to copy the whites‘ customs, as shown here in two wedding pictures. Sad and touching. And the whites copied the US-Americans one’s, who in turn copied ancient Egypt as for this movie theater from I think the 20s or 30s. Crazy world.

This bullet mark shows how bad the CBD was when the crime lords had occupied most of the houses, and the remaining ones had their doors walled up. And in the reflection my guide for this enlightening inner city tour.

Some more interesting architecture, and a touching statue, dedicated to the new city-dweller. Who usually has to start out with one of the works that tend to annoy especially the visitors: hawk this or that, sell newspapers, guard your car without you asking for it but then of course asking for money. It’s good too look at all that from the perspective of choices the people doing it have. On the right, a monument to the gold-mining origins of Johannesburg, a mill used for grinding the stone to powder before extracting the gold with chemicals.

Two panoramas of my „couches“. The first in the heart of CBD …

… the second in the lovely peaceful northern suburbs.

Some „underground“, a very nice combination of ateliers, arts shops and artsy cafes. And of course, veganism has even reached here. Next, taken at the airport and symbol of departure, the first A380 two-story airplane I’ve ever seen with my own eyes. Quite impressive.

First are the main means of transportation, the famous matatu minibuses on the left and the inside of a long-distance travel bus on the right. This latter one took me from Nairobi to Dar es Salaam in some 16 hours.

The roadsides are always an interesting view — very typical are the colorful shopfronts and plastic chairs, and the slightly overstated names like the „Club Inferno“ here. Typical also that beyond that single line of houses there’s not much happening along the street.

More of the same, noteworthy for the „Duka la Dawa“ (pharmacy), one of the main businesses you can find. And for the carts, very common means of transportation, and when they’re full the guys pulling them certainly sweat like hell.

Other common businesses: street vendors. On the left grilled corn, usually dreadfully dry to chew, but has a nice smokey flavor. And it does fill you up for a few cents. On the right, fresh fruit, sadly not as common as I’d hope.

Another common business so useful to travelers: Hawkers specialized on selling to the busses on their brief stops. Saddling up in the first picture, offering there merchandise in the second. Sometimes you can get amazing local specialties, a certain banana you don’t find elsewhere, really nice peanuts, even tomatoes and onions are frequently bought by the travelers. Sometimes, like here, you get only the standard cheap and industrial foodstuffs and soft drinks. Oh, fresh potato chips are one of my favorites!

Now some more industry, the streets offer a good impression of what is happening in Tanzania in that respect, and where the country and it’s residents stand. Cement, bricks, water tanks …

… used furniture and new, quite elaborate wooden bed frames. Building a house, furnishing it and getting drinking water. As I wrote before, economic activity that immediately makes sense. Even though already some of these modest improvements cause problems with the traditional way of doing things. In the customary way families expand, for example, houses are frequently abandoned for bigger ones. Now if the old ones were already built with cement, they don’t just disappear as the traditional ones used to do …

The ball which had recently been bought is broken again. How much does that have to do with the fact it was bought by the volunteers? Problems of ownership even in the smallest instances of development aid? Certainly looks like it was fun while it lasted.

My host and „brother“ to the left with some of his nieces and nephews who visit the house a lot — he is the only unmarried son and lives with his mother and younger sister. And the usual dinner, simple but delicious.

I didn’t get to do too much work because of health issues — I came with a flu which was followed by my first diarrhea since I left Nairobi half a year ago. Not too bad But this is the sunrise scenery for the weeding in the field — work is mostly done between 6:30 and 9 or 10 in the morning because the sun just gets too hot afterwards. And that’s George going about his work.

This is a market in the nearby town of Rongo (the next bigger nearby town is Kisii, and then Kisumu), where I also usually had to go for electricity for my internet-time.

The next is the hut for the volunteers, in which also George himself is sleeping right now. These mud-and-thatched-roof huts are actually amazing — cool and dark during the day, relatively warm at night, and a good atmosphere. And me with the children, amazingly open to the visitors.

Finally, me doing some work — chopping some leaves for compost-production. But on a pretty small scale, it was mostly demonstration for another volunteer who was about to leave.

More pictures from the surroundings — beans for sale on the market, and a really good snapshot of the matatu feeling.

Cows walking into the sun late morning-time. Beautiful!

A little bit more of work — trying to plow with oxen. Pretty hard and difficult work!

I’m witnessing the nursery school instruction — we don’t do serious stuff like that in our kindergartens back home do we? And I immediately got back to my ambivalent feelings about school here — the teacher talked about family, strongly reinforcing the traditional dress and roles of husband and wife, boys and girls.

Planting some maize and beans after the plowing, and breakfast with short-term visiting volunteers.

One of the local sight-seeing highlights, a nice stone for taking pictures. And what it looks like to have electricity for a short time — plugging two laptops and all the phones we have. We always brought our extension from home.

A very impressive sight was the site of brick-production. They are taken from the local clay, which is mixed and prepared in a special way. Then formed and dried, and stacked up to be burned. The latter is a night-long process of constantly putting more good wood to reach the needed temperature.

In another slightly bigger nearby town I get some „Odinga Shoes“ custom-tailored, sandals made from used car or truck tires. The promise is they will last for five years. We will see.

Now actually, before moving to the beautiful island that recently saw a catastrophic ferry sinking (wow Wikipedia!) some last impressions of the Kilimanjaro adventure. The first is looking out of the window of Berny’s and my hostel in Moshi with the mountain almost surreal up in the clouds.

The next a measure of the air pressure differnence, and it was still some 1000 meters below the peak that I closed the bottle… And another Kili sunset from a distance. Oh did it feel good to look up there after coming down!

Some other impressions of the city: First, the ubiquitous electricity generators, without which nothing much could happen in a country of constant power outages. And the most stylish car protection I have ever seen. Veritable street art.

And a snapshot of the general relaxation and relief after being down, and happiness of reunion with a good friend from home.

This of course a good start for further traveling. On to Zanzibar, finally! Still in the harbor area of the metropolis of Dar es Salaam, and already water with gorgeous shades of blue and green, and old-fashioned sailboats and paddle boats.

On the ferry (the „slow“ and cheaper one by the way, which seemed still nice and fast) we got a great performance from dolphins accompanying us for some time. And compare the looks with the „Spice Islander“ which recently sank.

We were greeted by the nice panoramic of the famous „Stone Town“ …

… and after a taxi ride of about one hour and spontaneously following the taxi driver’s recommendation to move to a different hotel than the one we had planned for: the beach. Low tide, but high spirits.

Back in stone town for a visit: Impressions between decay and lived life.

Of course with happy children, and impressive architectural features.

You never really now how much of the old stuff is memories, and how much is still in use.

A stunning sunset in the sea, actually quite peaceful despite being in a tourist hot-spot.

The Ramadan was strictly observed by the locals, even extending to most restaurants which didn’t offer lunch. After sunset we were allowed to feast on seafood (well, some of us) and the famous „Zanzibar Pizza“ from the stands. Oh, and finally fresh sugarcane juice again, improved with a splash of lemon and ginger! Still missing India half a year later…

This is the view from the hotel terrace and basically my inspiring „home office“ panorama for preparing the scholarship application for my planned Ph.D. back home in Freiburg. Good life! And a little impression of the backside of the beautiful beach, which bordered directly on a pretty run-down but lively town, where it seems every grown-up man was a taxi driver. Accordingly hard was it to get directions to take the cheaper and more adventurous matatu to stone town.

I was particularly impressed by this parallel display of silently persisting salesmanship and waste disposal — dig a shallow hole in the beach in brush in everything nasty washed ashore by the tide. How long until the stuff is brought out again and deposited at a different shore?

Of course, the moon mirrored in the sea — ahhh …

Some souvenirs for sale in the stone town, and a pile of tourist backpacks on the „fast“ (and obscenely expensive) ferry back to Dar.

It was a fast and fun ride, too. But only for lucky people like myself with no tendency to seasickness — the staff was running back and forth with more supplies of the black plastic bags and paper towels. Lastly, only loosely related but emblematic of the modern „Africa“: a few mud huts with very good mobile phone coverage.

The first part of the adventure is the booking and hassling with safari and tour company people, of course. And that respect we got not all bad, even though some things annoyed me majorly. Good things included somebody from the company picking us up at the bus to bring us to the hotel, and waiting out the two hour delay. Really bad was mostly the equipment we had to rent: for me a (supposedly) warm jacket and sleeping bag, gloves and a flashlight. The stuff definitely wasn’t warm, and so made a big contribution to the desperation on the last climb that made me seriously consider turning around.

But here, of course, I still didn’t know, and was fascinated and slightly appalled by the industrial character of the gate and the whole operation, with more than 100 tourists starting the climb on this route alone each day. And that’s not even the „Coke Route“, but the more demanding „Whiskey Route“ (Machame) …

On the first picture Berny proves that the hawkers have a Pawlow reflex to mzungus.

These are the assembly of waiting tourists, and of porters distributing the stuff. Luckily for them, it seem the weight limits are pretty strictly enforced, with scales before the start and on the first couple of camps.

A picture of the luxury version of the Kili climb, which means some 6 porters per tourist and the comfort of having lunch with chairs at a table. Next to it the very promising path up the „fog forest“.

But already the first night was above the clouds, we woke to splendid sunshine.

This is our small group, and our guide.

It also didn’t take long for the vegetation to become scarce, even though a nice flower here and there can still be found.

Resting on a rock at the second camp. And trying not to carry too much dust into the tent. And a sad little speck of snow which looks like coming back next year you wouldn’t find it any more.

This is a view down from „Lava Tower“, where you go up to get used to the altitude somewhat. And to not seeing any plant life anymore.

What you do see, though, is another testament of different possibilities regarding comfort — some people have chemical toilets in these funny little tents carried up for them. Even though the ones which are there anyway are among the nicest public toilets I’ve seen anywhere in Tanzania. The plants which are there going down can grow to amazing sizes …

… and look really nice as a little oasis.

This is a snapshot of two of our porters, and of the small luxury we also had — a pillow which we took turns sleeping with.

Beautiful sunrise and sunset at the third camp.

Realizing that looking up from some 4000 meters (13,000 feet for you crazy people in the new world), the mountain still looks high.

One of the many picturesque places the porters find for their own resting time. And a look from above on the last last camp before the peak, already some 4600m (15,500ft).

The six hours of steep climb in thin air and horrible cold (I suppose better equipment would help a lot there) in the dark and without even thinking of taking pictures, starting at midnight after a few hours of very light sleep due to the lack of oxygen. Thinking of and convincing yourself to take the next step is enough. Thinking really pretty much stops up there anyway. And then, almost at the top, the sun creeps up behind the clouds, and that’s when the drug-like feeling, which has something of a bad trip until there, turns into euphoria.

Which is equally helped by looking down at the beauty, and up at the really short way that is left now.

The obligatory peak picture, with our patient and helpful assistant guide — the group had to go different speeds for the last part. As much as Berny and certainly I would have liked to walk more slowly, the cold forced us to keep moving. Also good to know that on the peak, there are only a few of the hundreds of tourists at a time — even though supposedly most do reach eventually.

As you’d expect, the sun comes up really fast so near the equator. Which is good, because you couldn’t stay up there for too long anyway.

Here I need German for a moment: Der Beweis, dass der Kilimanjaro andere Berge in den Schatten stellt. Kili’s long shadow cast on Mt. Meru, looking tiny from up there.

As I said, the sun rises fast, and brings a little bit of warmth and comfort.

But the happiness doesn’t last long, because the way down the steep rocky desert is if not equally strenuous as climbing up so still strenuous enough.

Still, we didn’t loose our smile!

The nicest view a toilet can ever have — I said the normal ones are very nice up there! And a welcome to the first little flower encountered on the way down.

Looking back the same day, the peak already feels as far away as it looks.

And looking ahead, I really appreciated some humidity, and green …

… which was soon to surround us again. The other picture is our special friend, the „waiter“, one of the people with the most positive energy I have ever met. A big man, but so gentle and caring.

Coming down, more fog forest green, to the point …

… of being now almost a little much of wet. And, finally, in front of the hotel proudly displaying our certificates, with signatures from many important people. And again the guide who brought us up, also him a very good soul. It is sad, anyway, how good the mountain people are, and how scheming and exploiting many of the safari guys down in the cities seem to be. So it is good in a way that a lot of their pay is tips, at least they get it directly. But then, if you already paid more than $1000 dollars for a hike, you’re kind of pissed of to realize that you’ll have to spend a lot more for the porters and all. Nasty business, good experience…

The first pictures are from a visit to Impala Park in Kisumu, the only touristy aspect of the „in 80 hours around the lake“ adventure I went on with Justus. That’s also him in the first picture, admiring the big birds and thinking about how juicy a meat their legs would make.

As much as I dislike zoos, and this park definitely had a zoolike feel to it, I have to admit it was exciting to see the animals from up close. I even allowed myself a handshake with one of the more distant relatives of the human species, and looked the cheetah deep into the eyes, my childhood animal idol.

Also the lioness was more impressive than I had expected, starting with being bigger than I would have thought. Also interesting to talk about the animals‘ diet with the ranger and have my friend throw in „my children don’t eat chicken every day“. Seems to be a lot of money that goes into buying food for the carnivores, and back in the days of political struggles after the election the ranger told us they had to feed some of the impalas to the wild cats. They are the only free animals in the park, too (apart from hippos coming in from the lake at night when the park is closed), and seem to be plentiful. By the way, it took only very gentle irriation of the lioness on the part of my friend to get to see the teeth, and to be grateful for the fence again.

This is another trip to Kisumu a short time later (the other one was before my stay on Bumbire), and this nightly shot of bananas being loaded on the ferry makes me miss my camera a lot, which was stolen in a Nairobi Matatu a few days ago. Well, the first item that goes missing in 8 months, I probably should be grateful. Anyway, the picture illustrates what people told me: the Bukoba region is one of the most fertile for farming, and provides food for a lot of Tanzania and even Kenya.

The next picture is an attempt to capture the stuffed Matatu I had to take on the Kenya side of this travel, and on many other occasions, but the feeling doesn’t quite come out. Barely space to breathe, and I think the only thing I do fear about Africa by now. Coincidence that the theft also happened in one? But I did reach safely one more time, and visited a museum in Kisumu with my „guest sister“ Rose. This scenery impressed me for the balancing act of the whole statue on two feet of the poor wildebeast.

This is a part of the traditional one-family-villages, where the women and unmarried sons of the patriarch build their houses in a strictly defined order around his house. And us sitting on the likewise strictly defined chairs in the main house, with storage baskets in the back.

The friendly guide showing us around for a small tip in front of a graffiti-mural depicting how the family sets out to get a bride, carefully attending to different omens, and of course with spirits of the elders going ahead to assure safe traveling.

Now these are some more animal-closeups which I did enjoy with only a little bit of guilt, from the horned snake to a procession of turtles and a dentist’s view of the croc.

Another excursion, this one to Kakamega forest (these were my tourist days!), with a nice little waterfall, sometimes well-marked paths, and — well — forest.

Looking up …

… and then climbing up to a viewpoint …

… which gave us a nice overview of the forest.

A little sad is that the „primary forest“ that remains is actually a pretty small patch, and most of the reserve is made up of „secondary forest“ which is barely 50 years old and noticeably lower when viewed from above.

So most exciting was a short walk through the actual old forest, with lianas and huge roots.

And some lianas holding on to their host even after its death, maybe even due to the lianas embrace.

A look up, and a look back at the price board. Notice the institutionalized „mzungu price“ of about 10 times what locals pay, always posted in US Dollars, and always with an official exchange rate that works against you if you want to pay in the local Shillings.

Finally, almost back home, at Lake Victoria, two shots of the sunset and one of our small group, guest sister and brother with girlfriend (that’s an indication of open-minded life in town and would never happen in the village), and me.

Already getting there was an adventure. While we waited for the public transport boat which left some two hours later than planned without anybody complaining the least bit about it (part of the delay was that it waited for somebody to return from a visit to the hospital) these are scenes from the landing of another boat.

Here the small fish („dagaa“) is unloaded and brought up to the street by the bicycle boys. I was told that it is picked up by trucks and sold to distant parts of the countries. On of the few local food items which I really didn’t like, by the way.

Another boat in all its color, with the faithful name and ladder for boarding.

Even though for a small amount of money you can avoid getting wet. I was surprised how easily the man picked me up, heavy backpack and all. Next some of the items that are brought to the islands: beer, softdrinks, a bundle of the cheap flip-flops, some bags of sugar and flour.

And a look ahead in the boat, with the homemade anchor and a muslim lady wrapped in a colorful scarf.

Another island and small settlement we stopped at on our way. Generally, island life is even more materially deprived than the mainland village life.

A group of fishermen rowing out. But some use motor boats, too.

A small island with a single tree between the rocks, and a beautiful sunset.

At the priest’s home I was surprised to hear that he likes to work as a DJ for the village occasions. And his music was certainly danceable and worthy for a club, without trying to be Christian. Also his equipment was very impressive, but had to be powered by a small generator of course. The next picture is the service in the church in the morning (and morning means morning, like 6:30). Sadly, it was as empty as it looks. But then, they have mass every single day, and as I mentioned island life is really rough anyway.

The next picture shows — guess — the church bells. And the outside of the church, with most of the little family we had for these days: myself, the priest, and three young women who live with the priests (there was another very friendly one who had to leave the next morning after my arrival for some urgent duty), cook delicious food and are pursuing their education. That’s a general feature of the church in Tanzania — a haven of education. I’ve almost never heard as good English as from priests, and the seminaries seem to provide the best schooling you can get here.

Now me and the priest in a small rented motorboat to explore some of the smaller islands.

This is on an island where only men are allowed, and no alcohol either, but lots of smoking, and not only tobacco. The fishers come here for a limited time to dry the small fish they caught. And I was impressed to see a ship being built expertly in the middle of all that mess.

These are the outside and inside of the church building on the island, and our boat driver kneeling for a little prayer.

You might remember the picture of Lake Victoria at night from one of my early posts from Kagondo, where the lake is full of small lights from fishers. These are the lamps used, they attract the small fish which can then be caught easily. I wonder if they’ll ever learn, or evolution change their response to light… The picture next to it is another field of drying fish, and the birds who discovered their life is so much easier next to the fishermen.

This is the island-village bar and club, looked pretty nice, and again the sound system was impressive.

Now I’m leaving the island already, these are two of the girls running the priests‘ house. And there was no way I could stop her from carrying my backpack no top of her own luggage. And the chicken the second one is carrying so elegantly was a present from the priests‘ own little farm.

The way home was on the speedboat the priests have to more easily reach the surrounding islands, and was great fun. I was a little ambivalent about the money needed to sustain their work and life on the islands. On the one hand they certainly „deserve“ a high standard of living (if anybody does!) through their high education and dedicated work. On the other hand the contrast to the lives of the people they serve is quite extreme.

The last one: An old boat serving as the dock, and our small speedboat again.

I’ll start with a few more pictures from school. The first is me with the hard core of my Physics students, mostly Form 4 (the final class). They are the ones I learned to know best, shared some conversations about hopes for the future and current lifestyle with, and who seemed to like my teaching style. One thing that puzzled me about that: I asked another group of students (the ones supported by Action 5) how my teaching was different from the other teachers‘ here, and they said it was fast — while I was breaking things up into small steps and repeating as much as I possibly could. I really don’t know what else I could have done. Oh well.

The next two are me in the staff room at my favorite time of day — tea break with chapati and mandazi, chatting with the colleagues. And one of my last Physics topics, transistors, on the blackboard. I was quite desperate with that, because I don’t remember actually learning about it in depth myself, and the book I had was obviously erroneous on most of it. And Wikipedia led me to a level of detail that was too much to teach, so I settled on something like a minimal solution: leaving some holes in the explanations to „just believing“ or rather „just learning“, which I suppose came as standard practice to the students.

The next one are students in one of the big mango trees getting something like a breakfast. There are some not-yet-ripe mangoes in the staff room picture above, too, and I tasted them — I remember from India that green mangoes are really nice when cooked. But I can’t see a reason for eating them raw other than being very hungry…

These are some around-the-school activities. Starting with an illustration of how institutionalized punishment is as a motivational instrument: „The following are the students who scored ‚F‘. They should attend the punishment during vocation period“. I was told that at least the punishment was planned to be „developmental“, meaning some work around the school I guess (see below). Still … The next is the head teacher inspecting the work on the new student toilets. I was a little shocked to hear that the nice stone pit is for single use only, and will be abandoned when full. There is plenty of space for more toilets I was told.

This is an example of the work students do to maintain the school: here cutting grass with simple metal things somewhat similar to scythes. Well, I suppose it provides some sort of physical exercise, too. The abundance of activities like this in everybody’s life might explain why nobody bothers to purposefully move or exercise.

Now moving on to some of my explorations of the surroundings of the village. First me enjoying the countryside I very much fell in love with. Rolling hills covered with thick green, the distant ones smoothed by the humid air’s haze.

Some children very interested in watching me watching the sunset, trying to speak with me, but our command of Kiswahili and English, respectively, was too poor for a real conversation. They were on their way to fetch water, as can be seen in the background and on the picture one down. To the right a picture of the new street being built through Kagondo to some of the surrounding smaller villages. A project that was promised by my friend here during his campaign for election to the regional council, and promptly realized. I also like the way it is done — it is a very elaborate dirt road, which will hopefully endure many rain seasons, and uses a lot of local work next to the specialists from another part of the country.

The simple pleasures of my village life: First of all the fresh fruit, here the best pineapples I have ever eaten (and can possibly imagine), the flesh dark with sweet liquid. And the place outsized the house where I usually cut them up, something I became quite expert at. The next picture is from the sale at the roadside opposite my favorite shop.

And this is the son of the same shop owners, preparing another of my delights — fresh roasted peanuts.

Finally another highlight of the village life: In one of the two convents a nun is taking the final vow, which is celebrated very much like a wedding. Cake and all, the mother is there to melodramatically say farewell, and the bishop at her side as the next best thing to god you can get. Also all the local artistic groups performed — here are children singing and dancing, welcoming her to the village in cute English. And in front of them the usual sign of appreciation for the artists: cash. Which is usually delivered by somebody joining them in their activity somewhat, approaching in a dancing fashion and throwing the money to the ground in an exaggerated gesture.