Home Day 4. Entry 6
If I don't start now I'll be distracted further by laundry, the painting jobs, what to make for dinner, where I can lecture to share all of this, and I will forget.

The details will not matter but rather the scent memories of air and people, the sunsets that surely are different from home, the comfort of having been there before. And yes, I will eventually romanticize the car bouncing on the jagged terrain, the itchy head from lack of washing, and the squat position and call it rugged living.  We are back in the US now and I have returned home to a blow dryer, white and black people driving leased bmws, lines at Starbucks and children wearing heavy sweatshirts with their parents' alma maters lettered on the front. I cannot free guilty for having been born on this part of the planet but I sure as hell had better give you just an inkling of how most of the rest of the world lives, from my limited point of view. Arusha, Moshi, Olbalbal: it is not good; it is not bad but it is different there. It is not the world of Fox News or CNN.

9/10/14
Entry 5, Day 16
There is no doubt that I will sleep from Dar to Schiphol tonight. Mama Kuku took us to the bank to make sure my transfer from Winchester Coop reached her account for LifeWaterAfrica.com and the Goat Project. Yahoo, it’s finally here. Some last minute shopping for tinga tinga art for my lecture and a short wait while Mama Kuku took her outdoor water aerobics class. While walking around the area Happy (Mama Kuku’s daughter-in-law) and I discovered that there had been a wedding this weekend at this resort: there were HUGE urns filled with white flowers and placed on verandas, outdoor tables and the washrooms. We learned that there had been 2000 guests, 24 chefs plus fireworks. Hmmmm, could have purchased school fees for a lot of children.
Winchester Aerobics plus Jenks classmates, three of the goats are named: Winnie, Chesta and Phil. Three more names tbd. Thank you for the generosity.
Remember I have to blog backwards to fill in from Mama Kukus and the construction, Tarangire Park, Fr. Ned in the remote (I mean remote) Olbalbal. It will come once home.
The same feeling from my first trip to this my ninth: Less is More. Kwaheri Tanzania! Asante sana Tom for being such a great travel partner.

9/9/14
Day 15 Entry 4
Our next to last day was a huge success! After breakfast we went with Mama Kuku, Michael, Kinai and Sampson up steep and hard packed dirt roads and picked up a gentleman who guided us to his home among banana trees. We found three more goats to add to Tom’s newly constructed goat shed at the Sunrise of Life street children home. One was a nanny with a kid in her belly, another was a nanny who had a kid and finally, put into the package deal, the billy kid. (There was no point for them keeping the billy goat since he could not produce milk.) I am not expert on udders but by comparison to the ones we had seen before we went on safari, we had hit the jackpot and all for 470,000 shillings. Tom and I wondered how the goats were going to get to the children’s compound. Alas, they were put in the very back seat with the largest one situated right behind Tom’s head. Yup, he was really excited about that nose on his neck, so we traded places and I sat kiddie (no pun intended) corner. Poor Kinai seated with the goats was the recipient of a lapful of excrement and pee during the journey.
The goats were delivered to their new domain where there was a bit of jockeying about with the other three goats. Happy day.
Bumper sticker on the back of a car on the way home: “Jesus is your friend, until the end.” And afterwards??

9/7/14
Day 14, Entry 3
Today is the last day on safari. From the cold rim of the crater we descended into more moderate climes and stopped in the village of Karatu. As would be our luck, the monthly market was assembling for a day of brisk selling. Wares were set up in different sections of the large clearing: a section for clothes, shoes, luggage, trinkets; another for n’gombe (cows), sheep and goats; and a tool area for sale of hammers, hinges, screwdrivers and chisels. Sissal soaked in water, braided, soaked and dried again lay in long ropes across the ground. To the far side of the market, temporary food shops were bustling. Vegetables: tomatoes, yellow tomatoes, shallots, potatoes, sweet potatoes (in bags weighing 300 pounds and carried on one man’s shoulders); and salted sardines, brown sugar and salt. Crated chickens were ready for sale. Women were preparing large pots of ugali favored with shallots, bean dishes, rice and broth while the men carved slaughtered goats and cows and arranged them on the barbecue. A scene not for the feint of heart. We left as hundreds of people moved on foot, daladala and bus towards the grounds. The periodic rain didn’t dampen the interest.

The late afternoon was spent in Lake Manyara park where thousands of flamingos dotted the shoreline in front of the forest region, birds of all varieties picked at the wetland soil, and baboon families caused a raucous.

Day 13, Entry 2
We entered Ngorongoro Crater before the sun rose. Two lionesses with their three cubs greeted us along the road within reach of picking them up. The rhinos kept their distance but their size was obvious as were the pugnacious herds of water buffalo who stared us down.
Pairs upon pairs of crown cranes pranced among gazelles and sounders of warthogs. Over 150 wildebeest made their uneven file across the crater floor; some resting with white coated legs from the calcium bicarbonate residue of the central lake.
We stopped for breakfast and pit stop and while the driver was in the latrine a blue balled monkey (yes, that is their name and yes they are blue) jumped onto the open roof top and over Tom’s head to rummage through the breakfast remains in the front. Startled, Tom leapt from the van while I carelessly shouted “shooo, shoo”. Really, Gail? As quickly as it entered, it left, granola bar in hand.
After a full circuit and a delightful twisting, flapping, honking, farting display by a pool of hippos we made our way out of the crater from the pink, blue, light green floor to the dark clouded rim.
I have checked email: the atm machine is out of paper at work, the town debited my water bill and Mama Kuku has found some goats for the new shed in Maji ya Chai. What is normal?

Day 12, Entry 1
We ascend from the floor of the Malanja Valley towards the Ngorongoro rim on dank dark red dirt and misty clouds which make the short cropped light yellow grass look like a blanket of celery colored felt. We’re leaving Fr. Ned’s home in the village of Olbalbal, Maasai land.
At the rim, the fog envelopes official buildings, people shrouded in red cloth and stocking caps, and a small hospital where we stop for medicine for one of our passengers.
By noon we are met by our driver-guide and reluctantly say good bye to Fr. Ned and our Olbalbal friends and make our way with ease to the Sopa Lodge, situated 7800 feet above sea level with a view of the crater below.
Escorted to our room with a vestibule, two king size beds and an enclosed porch, we stand and stare at each other – how different from where we just came.
We are more than midway through our journey in Tanzania with much to describe from the last twelve days and five more days of the unknown. Karibu.