A Hindu Celebration

A tear slowly slipped from my travel-worn cheek, as the bus turned a corner and disappeared from sight. Nimesh stood beside me, respectfully letting me have a moment. In the end, it had been him that had lent Neale enough money to catch a bus North. Neale was headed to Nairobi, hoping to find a cheaper flight from there. I, on the other hand, had to face facts that my travelling days were dwindling to a close. With Neale gone, my heart was no longer in the adventure. It was time to turn towards home.

“Let’s go home,” Nimesh said, breaking my sad thoughts.

“Yes,” I replied. Home, my mind echoed.

Home today was not a bed in my mother’s house though. Neale and I had been taken under Nimesh’s protective wing and now he insisted that I stay with him for the night before leaving Dar es Salaam myself. Tomorrow I would be meeting up with Eddy to hitch a ride South with him in one of his company's jeeps. He was an American fellow that ran a small safari company catering to wealthy American tourists. He had just completed a trip from his home base of Livingstone, Zambia to Dar es Salaam, and now was returning home to rest for a few days before doing it all over again. He had room in his jeep for a stow-away and all I had to pay for was my meals. Meeting Eddy, with his gift of transportation South, had been the sign that told me I was not meant to try to scrabble my way North with Neale. We had promised to meet up again in the future, to travel further together, but the fates had said “not now”.

So I followed Nimesh through the familiar streets of Dar es Salaam, now a little emptier without the large figure of Neale beside me, towards the outskirts of the city. Nimesh lived with his parents and brother in a small home that consisted of two bedrooms and a kitchen. It was comfortable, if not spacious. There was no running water inside, but a tap was outside to bring in water to cook with. There was also no real water closet (WC), but I was directed towards an area where I could void when I needed to. I had been in Africa too long to balk at their primitive hole in the ground. Their “toilet” was cleaner than many I had seen anyway.

In fact, I was more than thankful that Nimesh’s family had agreed to take me in for the night at all.  For them, having a visitor was a cause for celebration, so as soon as I arrived any sad thoughts I had were flung away and I was dragged into the centre spotlight of a grand hoopla. After leaving my shoes at the door, Nimesh’s mother, Jasvanti, took me in hand and hugged me warmly. She had heard the many stories from her son of the big South African man and young Canadian girl that travelled with him. What I didn’t realize, was that in the stories she heard, Neale and I were married! Many questions poured forth about how we met, how long we had been married for, and when we would meet up again. While I felt a little awkward in this little white lie, I reassured them that we would be meeting up again soon in South Africa, then be jetting off to Canada together. Our married life for the last year and a half had been grand! I hoped that no Hindu Gods would strike me down for these little fibs that seemed necessary to maintain a sense of decorum for my generous hosts.

Questions and joviality continued on, as the tea was poured. This was a precursor to the feasting that would follow. I had fallen in love with the sweet tea in Tanzania, so enjoyed it immensely. My eyes popped at what came next though. Exorbitant amounts of food were presented to me, and I was encouraged to eat, eat and eat some more! It was all delicious and I wasn’t exactly sure how to politely say I was full, so kept eating the excellent dishes that were presented in their finest wares. When finally they let me groan back from the eating area smoothed out on the floor, I thought that perhaps I would get a chance to rest, but no. Now it was time for dancing!

What had I gotten myself into, I wondered, as Jasvanti insisted that I change. My belly was straining at my clothes already, but my thin traveller’s garb was not good enough for tonight. I needed to get pretty! A sari was the only thing fit for the occasion. “Ok,” I acquiesced as yards of fine silk were pulled out of Jasvanti’s wardrobe. I stood still as she expertly wrapped me in a length of pink checked fabric, lined with blue and a band of white, and decorated with squares and circles throughout. A light blue top was donned underneath, before the end of the long silk was draped across my shoulder.

“Now we need some makeup!” Jasvanti declared.

I suspected that she would have loved to have had a little girl of her own to dress, but she made due with me today. Bangles were produced and a necklace was declared perfect as it was slid over my head. My lips sported a bright pink that matched my sari, but there was still a missing piece to be put on – a bindi. I had to have one. Jasvanti found a pretty oblong one that was attached with an adhesive backer. I had no idea that bindis could be stickers! Hers was a simple red dot painted in the middle of her eyebrows, by comparison. finally finished, I was a sight to behold. 

“Go get the camera,” Jasvanti urged Hemendra.

Nimesh’s brother ran off to find the missing camera, as I looked at my transformation. Jasvanti declared me beautiful and I certainly looked special, but I wondered at the pictures. Before I could protest though, Hemendra was back with the Polaroid and I was placed in front of the altar for a  photo shoot. After taking pictures of me with every member of the household, in different combinations, I was finally allowed to undress and retire for the evening. It had been quite the day and not one that I would forget for a long time to come. I needed to sleep though. Tomorrow I would be on the move once again. 

A Twist of Fate

Excitement got the best of us in the morning. There were no long snuggles for Neale and I, as we were in search of plane tickets today. Cairo waited for us and Israel beckoned to be explored as well. Cairo was just the tip of the ice berg. We could see the world, but today it started with a trip to the travel agent.

Actually, it started with a phone book - to figure out where to locate a travel agency. Once that was accomplished, Neale and I dressed and headed out. I felt like a giddy school girl arranging to skip class, but far too excited to stop and think about the consequences. We would fly to Cairo and explore from there. I had always wanted to see the pyramids of Giza and the Great Sphinx, as well as wander through the busy bazaars. It was coming to fruitition  and I could barely contain myself. We would be stepping onto a plane heading North in a matter of days, if not hours!

Across town, we sat in front of a pleasant looking young woman and explained to her that we wanted to go to Egypt. Ideally, we wanted to leave as soon as possible, but realistically, the cheapest ticket would dictate when we left. She poured through time tables and looked at price tags, then turned to us with a smile.

“Would tomorrow do?” she inquired.

“Oh yes,” was our response.

She started tapping in my particulars first. I pushed my passport across the desk and squeezed Neale’s hand. We would be headed for Cairo tomorrow! A measly six hour flight would touch us down in a whole new country, as well as a new hemisphere in Africa for me. It was over 4000 kilometers, and I had no idea how I would be able to get back to Cape Town (where my plane ticket back to Canada departed from), but here I was stating my name and birth date.  

Tap, tap, tap…

“And how would you like to pay?” she finally asked.

I dug for my credit card and pushed it across the desk to her. The tapping stopping, then she punched more numbers into the credit card machine.

“There appears to be a problem with your credit card,” the travel agent said as politely as she could.

What the…?

“What do you mean,” I asked.

She tried the numbers again, but shook her head. She handed me the machine, so that I could see the explanation.

“CONTACT CREDIT CARD COMPANY,” it read.

Oh, oh. This wasn't part of the plan. 

Step number two was to pick up the phone to see what was going on. The travel agent dialed the  phone number that was displayed on her machine, spoke to the representative, then handed me the phone. After a round of identification questions, a handful more questions, plus some of my own, the answer was presented to me – INSUFFICIENT FUNDS.

Our plans rapidly started to unravel. My credit card was at its limit. I could not use my debit card in Tanzania and I only had a $50 US traveller’s cheque left, as well as small amounts of currency from the last half dozen countries that I had been in. Essentially, I was broke.

Neale rallied to the cause. He pulled out his credit card and offered to pay for both our tickets. I knew that once I got a hold of my mother back home, I could sort out my finances and pay him back. That shouldn’t take too long, I reasoned. The money would be back in his pocket in no time.

Fate had other plans though. Our beleaguered travel agent shook her head once more and announced that Neale’s credit card had also been denied. We were both flat broke. We could not afford even one ticket to Cairo between the two of us, let alone tickets for both of us to go. After several more phone calls and other desperate measures, we dejectedly walked out of the travel agency empty handed. Our dreams of Cairo fizzled out miserably. We were not going anywhere.

Leaving on a Jet Plane

Neale and I were constant companions over the days that followed. After spending a second night in his larger room, I decided to pass on keeping up appearances and moved in with him. There was no point in us both paying for rooms, if we were only going to use one. You couldn’t separate us if you tried. We wandered city streets, chatting, laughing, holding hands and finding quiet corners to share a passionate kiss or two. We met back up with Nimesh for a personalized tour of the city as well. Neither Neale nor I had much cash flowing out of our pockets, but that did not dampen our euphoric spirits. Burgeoning love feeds the soul.

The problem was that the more time Neale and I spent together, the less we wanted to be separated. While in Dar es Salaam that wasn’t a problem, but neither of us had the money to stay put and the city was quickly losing its appeal. We were both travellers and our feet itched to move on. Neale was headed North. After my failed attempt at being an overland courier, I was still drifting and sought direction for which way to go next. I felt like home was vaguely calling my name, but Africa was in my blood and I loathed the idea of leaving it. Temptation arose and I had no good reasons to turn it down. Neale’s hearty laugh and generous compliments had me in favour of pretty much anything that he suggested. So when the proposal came to accompany him to Cairo, it took me all of two seconds to agree.

While I did get excited at the prospect of seeing Egypt, a few worries couldn't help but cross my mind. Was it really a good idea to be traipsing across the continent with a virtual stranger? Hmm. Well, I had been doing that for the last nine months with a steady stream of strangers, many of whom I knew even less than Neale. So that could be crossed off the list of worries easily enough. If we went to Egypt together though, how and when would I get back to Cape Town, or Canada for that matter? Seeing the excitement in Neale’s eyes erased any doubts that my brain tried to muster though. I was present in the miracle of the moment. I had travelled long enough to trust my instincts when the fates presented new opportunities to me. If it felt right, then it was meant to be. The idea of this potential trip excited me and definitely screamed as an opportunity to be taken advantage of. How could I not jump on board? Neale's enthusiasm was contagious and it was decided.

All that stood in the way, was the means to get there. So over a cheap beer in our favourite pub, we decided  that we would leave for Cairo as soon as we could muster up some plane tickets. Giddy with anticipation, we finished our pitcher and wandered home arm in arm for the night. The plan was to find a travel agent in the morning and leave on a jet plane to Cairo, as soon as we were able. 

The Morning After

Lazily I stretched and cracked my eyes open to the day. An unfamiliar room greeted me, but that wasn’t surprising considering I rested my head in a different spot most nights. A warmth in the bed beside me reminded me that today was different though. I was not alone. A twinge of apprehension filled me, as I peeked at my companion. Neale breathed heavily beside me. He was apparently still asleep. 

“Wasn’t this jumping the gun a little,” I wondered to myself. “Maybe I should just leave before an awkward moment steals in to disrupt this cozy atmosphere.”

With a pang of regret, I slowly eased my leg towards the edge of the bed. Just as I thought I was free, and beginning to wonder how I could go about quietly finding my things and leaving without waking my sleeping companion, a strong arm reached out and drew me back.  I was pulled into Neale’s warm body and a gentle kiss planted on my bare shoulder. Blissfully, I melted back into the bed. With a sigh, I cuddled into Neale’s chest and closed my eyes again.

“Morning,” he said.

“Good morning, “ I replied, as I opened my eyes to look into his brilliant green pools.

How could these joyful thoughts be a bad thing? I was the happiest that I had been in months. Neale’s generous grin filled my heart and more.

“Thinking of going somewhere, Beautiful?” he asked teasingly.

“Not anymore,” I said with a  smile. Not on your life. 

I was quite happy to stay like that forever. 

All Dressed Up - In a Smile

With the door closed again, I feared that my brain would be so a'goggle with thoughts of the stranger I had just met that sleep would elude me. It was direly needed though, and I surprisingly drifted off almost immediately. I needn't have feared forgetting him though, as when I woke a luxurious smile still lingered lazily across my face. My brain might have needed sleep, but it vividly remembered the image of my new friend  Neale. Oh sweet memories indeed. I stretched cat-like in my little cot, then jumped out of bed to hurriedly start my day.

Once upright, I glanced sadly through my backpack to see what I could wear. Everything had been worn almost threadbare. There wasn’t much there that could impress or hope to turn the eye of the South African lad, whom I had promised to meet that afternoon. There was nothing that could be done about it though, so I showered, then slipped into a gypsy skirt – the prettiest thing I had to offer. My hair hadn’t been cut in many months and any makeup I might have had at the beginning of my trip was long since gone. All I could do to gussy this time worn traveler up, was brush my hair and put on my sparkliest smile. That would have to do.

And you know? I think it was perfect!

I found Neale downstairs in the common area of the hostel waiting for me. While I hoped he hadn’t been waiting long, I also secretly hoped that he felt his wait would be worthwhile. We headed out into a bright afternoon and leisurely meandered through markets, side streets and wherever our feet took us. Conversation flowed between us, like we were long-lost friends. His sense of humour had me giggling like a school girl and his dazzling smile lit my cheeks with a natural blush that money just cannot buy. I forgot all about my tired appearance and fairly bubbled with life again. He seemed honest and truthful, and was a breath of fresh air after some of the conniving men that had tried to woo my hand in other ports. I was amazed by how comfortable I was in his presence and had no urge to leave it any time soon.

So when he asked if I was interested in stopping for a drink, I was more than happy to oblige. We ducked into a little local pool hall and ordered a pitcher of beer. Yes, I am not quite the purely angelic damsel and I do enjoy a cold pint or two. Neale seemed to approve my choice though and poured us some frosty libations with a flourish. I couldn’t remember the last time that I had felt so pretty and doted upon in such a sweet manner. Even before the alcohol started to have its effect, I knew that I was interested in spending more than just this afternoon with Neale.

While time would tell what our fortune would be, today we basked in flirtatious ways. Apparently it was obvious too, as when a young man stopped to chat for a moment, he introduced himself, then asked for Neale’s name. He then proceeded to ask Neale what his wife’s name was, and turned to me! Ha! A lovely thought, but we quickly explained that we had just met that day. He was surprised, but predicted that it would not be the only day that we would spend with one another. I secretly hoped he was right. The chemistry that flared between Neale and I was pretty heady. By the time we had played several games of pool with Nimesh, our new local friend, and tottered out of the bar many hours later, Neale and I were arm in arm. I was pretty happy to be there too. 

Welcome to Dream Land

I turned out the light and was asleep before I even hit my pillow. My two-hour siesta on the extended bus ride from Mombasa left me feeling more ogre than beauty queen, and I planned to sleep the day away to try and remedy that. It was nine o’clock in the morning, but I figured that  Dar es Salaam could wait. I was exhausted. I needed sleep now.

No sooner had my head touched down, then a knock roused me back to the land of the living.

 “Ugh,” I grumbled to myself. “No.”

I scrunched my eyes more firmly shut and whimpered, “Why!”

I needed sleep! I debated ignoring the knock. I figured that it was the good Samaritan that had saved my sanity and decency on the bus. He had just dropped me back at the hostel, with a  promise to return later. I feared that perhaps he was smitten though and wanted to make later more like sooner. That attitude wasn’t much of a repayment for all the niceties that he had shown me though. He had even bought me breakfast. I felt like an ingrate, shrinking away from his presence.

With a sigh I gave in, and went to the door just as a second knock cheerily tapped on the frame. I pulled the door open and stopped. The frown on my face melted instantly. As I stood there numbly, I gazed up into the smiling face of a red-haired giant. At 6’3”, this stranger immediately dazzled me with his beautiful, green/hazel eyes. His smile lit up his face, as he explained that he had seen my name on the register when he signed in. His thick South African accent charmed me back to fully awake, and I found myself shyly smiling back at this beautiful man. He wondered if I would be interested in a wander around Dar with him, to discover all that it had to offer. I don’t know if I can say that I was instantly in love, but damn I was close! A sleep-deprived, silly grin accompanied my assurance that I would love to step out on the town with him.

“Neale,” he said, as he  introduced himself with extended hand.

Yeah, I was pretty darn near in love right then. I would wander to the ends of the earth with him, but a little piece of my brain reminded me that I was sorely lacking in sleep and perhaps not able to make the best decisions right now. While I did know that I very much wanted to spend more time with this handsome specimen, I also knew that I really needed to sleep. My sentences fumbled and I gave in to my sleep-addled brain. I wasn’t going to let this temptation get away from me though. I promised that with a few hours of sleep, I would gladly poke through the deepest darkest corners that Dar had to offer.  He acquiesced with a nod and promised to come back in a few hours to wake me.

“See you soon Neale,” I waved sleepily to him. Sleep beckoned, but dream-land was now filled with visions of promise that I looked forward to in earnest. 

Heading South

Sadly, all good things must come to an end. Our leisurely days of sipping freshly squeezed juice and dining on seafood extravaganzas with locals and other tourists, could only last so long. While it was relatively cheap to stay in Lamu, and food could be had at a bargain, my money was running thin. It was time to move on.

After a week spent on this magical, tropical island, I packed my bags and bid adieu to Lamu,  as well as Stuart and Rob. We were all headed in different directions. They were headed North. I, on the other hand, turned myself towards the South, destination Cape Town. It was time for me to wind down my trip and head towards home. My hometown was still a long ways off, but it was finally calling.

So for now, I took the ferry back over to the main land, then flagged down the bus headed towards Mombasa. The threat of road-side attacks remained unfounded, as we travelled along peacefully. We picked up our armed guards for their part of the journey, but aside from their guns serving as a reminder of ill tidings, I reached Mombasa no worse for wear.

One night in Mombasa was all I squeezed in, but I did get the pleasure of an ice cream date with Renée ‘Deutsch’ for company. He even bought me breakfast in the morning, before I jumped onto the bus for Dar es Salaam. He was a gentleman through and through, and I thanked my lucky stars that I had the pleasure of meeting him. Laughter and conversation was all we shared, but he filled my heart with a little more faith in humanity.

As the day wore on, I appreciated Renée’s lovely gesture even more so. The journey between Mombasa and Dar es Salaam was scheduled to be 12-13 hours. I had bought some minor refreshments for the drive, but apparently not enough. The trip turned out much longer than anticipated and hunger gnawed at my insides before long. To make matters worse, being hungry always seemed to make me grumpy.

When I got on the bus, I was the only white face and one of few who apparently spoke English. One man began to chat with me, dancing between English and a native language that I knew nothing of. At first, I was happy to have someone to talk to, but quickly realized that perhaps I had picked the wrong person to speak with. He was loud and I felt like he was saying unkind things about me. The women around me tittered nervously and turned their heads away from my questioning stares. It became obvious that I was the brunt of some unpleasantness, so I turned inward from his taunts and focused my eyes out the window. I tried to ignore him, and soon enough he left me to my own devices.

The road was longer than anticipated though. When we reached the border, everyone got out of the bus to be processed. Again, I was singled out by the obnoxious man, but this time I had no place to turn. Women were having their shopping bags rifled through and border guards began to unpack the stowed luggage. I had been processed quickly, but now was at the mercy of the rest of the bus passenger's paperwork. To get away from my tormentor, I wandered into the bush to squat a pee (when I opened the outhouse door, I gagged, so thought better of it), then returned to an area further away from where he stood.

By the time we finally got on the bus,  a nice young man had quietly befriended me. English was not his first language, but he managed well enough for us to have a conversation. He confirmed that the other man was indeed besmirching my character and that the others were uncomfortable, but unwilling to stop the antics. I guess better me than them.

Once we got back on the bus, I shared a seat with my newest acquaintance. I managed to get some sleep when the bus driver pulled over to rest himself for a few hours. Our border crossing had delayed us so long that no one could keep their eyes open. By 6am, we finally pulled into Dar es Salaam and I was shown to a hostel by my seat mate. We dropped off my backpack and he took me for a delicious breakfast of chapatti and tea. My eyes were getting heavy though, so I returned to my hostel with a promise to meet up with him later. I quickly scribbled the account from my last few days in my journal and turned out the light to get some much needed rest. I would explore Dar es Salaam later.

Working for a Living

Life on the truck was still an uncertainty. I had been shown some paperwork, but wasn’t exactly feeling the love from Kylie and Angus. We were in Dar es Salaam and I had the dubious pleasure of sanding and painting equipment for the truck. All of our passengers had trundled off to Zanzibar. I would have loved to go, but was reminded that this was a working trip. There would be time in the future for fun again, but for right now, I was earning my keep.

Yes, I had the fun pleasure of varnishing a table in Chitemba, while the passengers went to climb Livingstonia. I scraped sand mats with a wire brush in Karonga, and painted truck pieces and stools. While it felt good to actually physically work, it also added to a feeling of loneliness that I couldn’t shake. No matter how much black and white paint I slopped around, I could not forget my former travelling companion Brett’s smiling face. Despite singing a little fast on my beleaguered walkman, Bob Marley’s crooning voice in my ear didn’t help either. My labours  left me  with too much time to reflect.

Before we arrived in Dar es Salaam, we got to see the beauty of the Tanzanian countryside though. As soon as we left the Malawian border behind, the scenery changed. We went from the lush beaches of Lake Malawi, to tea plantations that stretched to mountainous backgrounds. They were generously interspersed with stately banana palms. It made for gorgeous green valleys  that filled my vision as far as I could see.  

Shortly after entering Tanzania, we made our first bush camp of the five-week tour. It was mild enough to sleep outside and I woke to the stars. While it was wondrous to look up at them and watch the sky lighten, I could not stop the tear that slid off my cheek. Brett had been the one to appreciate sunrises. Without him by my side I felt adrift and oh so lonesome. My dream of living and working on the African continent seemed hollow without a friend in the world to share it with. My birthday steadily approached and a tiny flame of hope burned that perhaps I would bump into Brett again. The reality of the path I had taken made it unlikely though.

Our second day on the road in Tanzania, the landscape changed from vibrant green to dry yellow. Mealie patches and dry grasses dominated the landscape now and despite our proximity to the equator, you could tell that it was winter. The changing leaves were nothing in comparison to the brilliance of Canada’s Autumn displays, but we did not have the mud huts that leant the reminder that I was far from home. I was definitely in Africa.

The excitement of reaching Dar es Salaam, while great for the group, was less so for me. Once the gang was gone, we gathered supplies for the truck and ourselves, then set out for a camp outside of town called Silver Sands. Melancholy followed me, as a sad song by UB40 and the loss of a lover of a character in my book, left me in tears. I allowed the tears to come, as I missed friends and family, and even finally allowed some tears for my long-lost relationship from the beginning of my trip. There was no one to talk to about my loneliness though, so I shook it off and returned to the present. The present held more truck maintenance that saw me scraping paint off of cupboards till break time. I was then left to catch up in my journal and read.

The hours became painful though, and intermixed with a desire to explore the city of Dar es Salaam, I wished to see the only friendly faces I knew, that of our passengers. They would return in a few days. Our reunion would be short-lived though, as we would only explore the city for a day, before it would be time to head off to Arusha. From there, they would go to the Serengeti. I would be headed for Nairobi though and the end of my training trip.  The word was that I had a trip lined up for another 5-week Overland from Nairobi to Harare. I still had to get my evaluation though. That would happen in Nairobi.