A place of pleasure

Ifakara, some 100 km along the Kilombero Valley, is a flourishing town, despite the poor condition of the connecting road. Rice is grown in the area and in front of the various mills huge sheets are covered in rice, drying in the sun.

Since my last visit 2 years ago, the main road through the town has been sealed and thankfully, this has reduced the dust. Bicycles are for hire everywhere for next to nothing. The one I used, mind you, had no front brakes, no tread on the tyres and a squealing, rather ineffective back brake. But it got me around. It's quite fun cycling along with lots of other cyclists weaving and swerving over the bumps and ruts in the roads and tracks away from the main road. A visit to the riverside impressed me because of the beautiful lettuces and spinach being grown in the fertile soil which could easily be watered from the brown, quite fast flowing water of the river.

The Nshanga Guest House, where I have stayed in the past, was full. I was disappointed, as the women there had alays been friendly and welcoming, washing clothes for me and providing whatever services I needed. I was disappointed that none of them were in evidence and the men seemed singularly unfriendly. They directed me to the newer but characterless Nshanga 2 Guest House across the road. The men there were also unfriendly but after a long argument, agreed to let me stay there for 10,000/= per night (= about 8 dollars), which is what I would have paid at the other place. For that I had a reasonable room with a big bed, intact mosquito net and a bathroom - basin, cold shower and lavatory. At least the water flowed.

In front of the old Nshanga is a bar area, with plastic tables and chairs under a kind of leafy pergola. Chicken and chips are cooked over a charcoal grill at the side. In the evening I went across to my old haunt and sat down and ordered a Serengeti beer. I did not recognise the two women who were serving drinks, but I started to make friends with one of them - not easy when she didn't seem to have one word of English.

I ordered chicken and chips. 5000/= she said - but no, I only wanted to pay 3000/=. A small one will do I said - 'kidogo". She went back to the man doing the grilling to explain what I wanted. He looked across and recognised me. He rushed to greet me like a long-lost friend, grinning broadly amd pumping my hand.

His English consisted of about ten words but I think he understood more than my new friend Zaida. I told him how sorry I was that the ladies that used to work there had left. The atmosphere was not the same. 'What's happened to Bahiti?' I asked. I didn't understand what he said, but he came back several times in the next hour or so, by which time I had eaten my chicken and chips and drunk another beer. Zaidi sat at my table in the dark night air watching the TV between serving customers. My friend came across to me again, excited. 'Bahiti is coming!' he said. He had her phone number on his mobile phone and had contacted her.

Half an hour later she arrived, looking beautiful and charming, fragrant in some exotic perfume and dressed in a pleasant long brown patterned skirt and neat top. She had glammed herself up especially. She embraced me like a lover. She told me she was now working in the local hospital. Her son was doing well at school. She was clearly happy to find me again. In a few seconds my evening had changed from one of disappointment to one of delight and promise.

That's Africa for you. One minute you feel it's all hopeless and a cloud of lonely despondency can descend on you. The next moment, the warmth of someone who cares can make the days and nights full of pleasure.