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I am cycling for about 20 km on this road with dermatitis, it is full of rocks set on the ground, where I look for relief at the sides of the road where the condition is slightly better, 40 meters ahead an old man, Muslim I would say judging from the hat, bends down, picks up a stone in front of me, and throws it away on the ground outside the road, to make my cycling easier. When we meet he smiles and tells me safari njema, have a safe journey. After more or less 500 km of impossible road a similar gesture is difficult to forget …
In the meanwhile the gear is always more automatic, it decides itself when to change and when not to change, mainly on a uphill when I use the smaller rapports.
From Kondoa the road goes up for a long time to then go down to Babati on a nose-dive through the bananas, the last 40 km towards Babati it seems to be in a different microclimate, there are small creeks and rivers, the vegetation is emerald green and the bananas dominate the landscape.
A bit before Babati in a uphill the gear curls up again. The bicycle alts so much that the rebound makes me jerk first ahead and then backwards. The piece changed in Malawi lasted a thousand kilometers! The behind gear in the shape of an S where the chain goes through between the two small crowns is bent. I think it did not break like the other because this one, although of a lesser quality is entirely made out of metal, while the other had some plastic pieces. Nobody is passing by. I start working on it to following approximations, but the result is not much.
While I am fretting about there under the sun, a pick up passes by, they tell me that they do not think I will find anything in Babati for my gear, in any case they are willing to give me lift, I say thank you and pick up the Allen keys, and the other stuff I left around. While I am closing the panniers the car goes … in the same moment, from a shortcut two tall and very elegant ladies come out, they ask me if everything is ok, I broke the gear I say, we speak with gestures, they tell me that I have to eat … maybe I looked a bit exhausted … one of the two show me a plastic with inside some kind of yellow cream and tells me to take some … can it be honey? … I make the noise of bees ‘bzzz bzzz bzzz’ emulating the flight of bees with the hand … they nod … I show my hands which are blacker than hers … and I show that I cannot put them in the plastic … the woman who has the plastic in her hands feeds me … it is a sweet rough honey with also pieces of wax which make me understand that I am not alone … the sweetness of Tanzanians is inversely proportionate to the toughness of the roads.
I put everything back in the panniers, and I decide to start again pedaling where I can, walking or like on a ‘push scooter’ where the rapports which I have available do not allow me to cycle.
On a uphill stretch where I am walking I hear the noise of a truck changing the gear to come up, it stops, we make a final effort to load the bicycle, since the truck which carries maize has the access to the wagon behind very high, the driver and his helper are going to Arusha, they are very kind and, a part from the language barrier, they want to talk to me and the helper lets me the place in front next to the driver and sits behind us where there is the small bed. In Babati a mechanic who maintains motorbikes and bicycles, suggest I go to Arusha. We start off again to Arusha and I fall asleep lulled by radio Imam and Arab music, I am woken up by the driver who makes me speak in English to his three daughters, he is very proud that they speak English already in Primary School. He explains that this is possible just because they go to a private school, unfortunately in state school they start learning English only from the Secondary classes. I ask the helper if he wants to swap places, and I go behind, I lay on the small bed and I fall asleep almost until Arusha when it starts to get cold, it was one of my childhood dreams to sleep on the small bed of a truck … arrived in Arusha they have to park the truck in a specific area, I go very hungry towards a hotel where I hope to find hot water and the kitchen still open …
Kondoa S 4° 90.381’ E 35° 77.693’ – Babati S 4° 21.666’ E 35° 75.050’
120 km