Editors note: Russel P. Participated in the HIV/AIDS Education and Prevention Program January 2008. Thanks for the post Russel!

It is Sunday morning March 9th and I have some free time. I am supposed to be on my way to the airport but my travel agent emailed me and said my plans had changed. my flight had been cancelled and rescheduled for Tuesday the 11th. Darn now I have to spend a couple more days in Africa while the folks back home are dealing with a snow storm. Chances are I would have gotten stuck in Washington D.C. As the locals say ”Hakuna Matata” I began to review the events of the last week and thought this would be a good time to write down a few things while they are still fresh in my mind. Dismas, my conterpart and translator was scheduled to return to Manyire where we had taught a class two weeks earlier. This time we were to conduct a class to a group of villagers in Massai Land. Our program coordinator thought it best if we stay in Manyire at night and travel to the massai village each day for flasses. There was little water in the Massai Village as it had to be carried in via 5 gallon buckets daily. Accomodations were also an issue as there was no place Dismas and I could share together. It was thought this might pose a problem with communication and possible safety. This is the same Massai Village that I visited a couple weeks ago with Norbert, a minister living in Manyire who helps coordinate setting up classes throught GSC. As the plan unfolded, I learned Norbert would be chauffeuring Dismas and I individually to the village from Manyire each day. I had travelled to the Massai Village on the back of Norbert’s motor bike before and fully knew what to expect, or so I though. As a time saving measure it was decided classes would be condensed from three days to two. Dismas and I arrived Monday morning by way of the GSC van and remained at the village while the van returned to Arusha.

Our first day of class went well. We had approximately 18 middle age men and women participating in the program, finishing up around 4:00 in the afternoon. Norbert suggested I ride back to Manyire first, at which time he would return and collect Dismas. Everything went as planned although the ride took about 40 minutes rather than the 20 minutes Norbert told our GSC coordinator.

Tuesday morning arrived. Norbert started the bike and it ran for about 5 minutes. After watching him fuss around with the bike for about a half an hour I walked over and offered some assistance. He was attempting to replace the old spark plug with a new plug he had in the tool kit which he carried on the bike. This wasn’t a bad idea except he did not have a spark plug wrench. I searched around and eventually produced an open ended wrench that kind of fit. It worked well enough to get the old plug out and the new one in place. I also took a few minutes to clean the air filter. You can’t believe the dust in Massai Land. It was so thick it quickly transformed me to look Massai, and the Massai to appear white. Better put we were all a similar shade of gray. Replacing the spark plug and cleaning the air filter seemed to work. The bike thundered to life. Well maybe I’m overstating things a little. We are speaking of a 125cc puddle jumper. It might be more accurate to say the bike “burped” back to life. I was looking forward to getting back to the Massai Village and thought we were finally ready to leave. Well first things first, we hadn’t eaten breakfast and that was a must.After a breakfast that included an egg, bread, and three orange slices I exited the hut where I observed a young man thoughtfully washing the motor bike. His intentions were noble but I wasn’t sure this was a good idea. He was splashing water everywhere. The covering of dust he was so vigorously removing would quickly be replaced with a fresh coating a couple clicks down the road. The wiring on the bike was intact, but exposed. My apprehensions were validated when the bike didn’t start. I figured the wires were all wet and I thought this might be causing the bike to short out. After drying the wires the bike started……for a minute. I ask Norbert about petrol. He assured me he had plenty as he turned the petcock to reserve. Sure enough the bike started and Dismas and Norbert were on there way. Two and a half hours later I got word they had broken down and I was going to be transported via bicycle. This might not have been such a bad plan except there was only one bicycle and I was to ride on the back of the bicycle. Against my better judgment I seated myself on the rear carrier of the bicycle. We traveled about half a mile down the road before tipping over. Fortunately no one was injured. I tried to explain to my driver, who spoke about as much English as I do Swahili, this plan was not working. I needed my own bike if this questionable plan had any possibilities of working. As I mentioned earlier, it took 40 minutes on motor bike and I figured it would take at least two hours on a bicycle. My driver said there was a small village just ahead and we could borrow another bicycle there. We started off again. Not far down the road Norbert rounded the corner on his motor bike. I was relieved to see him and we headed for the Massai Village arriving without incident. Dismas had everything set up and ready for class, so we began.

I learned during the peanut butter sandwich and soda break that Dismas had been given a bicycle when Norbert had broken down and was sent on his way to the village. Two flat tires later he finally arrived pushing the bicycle. Dismas was able to repair the first flat but not the second. Class went well and I sent Dismas and Norbert in the direction of Manyire at about 3:15. I wanted to remain in the village to play with the children. During my first visit the younger children would not come too close. Believe it or not, I was one of only a handful of white people they had ever seen. A couple of the older braver children approached me presenting the top of their heads to me. Dismas quietly instructed me to place the palm of my hand on the head of each child as they approached. In this way the children were showing respect for me as an elder. Giving a blessing demonstrated to the children I meant no harm. I found it enlightening to realize such a simple practice could have such a lasting impact. I will remember this as long as I walk the earth.

It didn’t take long for all the children to realize I was there to have a little fun once I presented 6 bags of marbles, three Frisbees and a couple jump ropes. So the games began. We all had a great time playing in the dirt. The children and younger adults joined in the activities. I was probably the coolest babu, (grandfather) they had ever seen. Usually older people don’t play children’s games in this particular culture. Oh well I guess they just figured I was crazy old Mzungu.

I also had the opportunity to revisit my adopted granddaughter Elizabeth. Elizabeth and I had met a couple weeks ago during my first visit to the village when I was handed the 4 month old child and ask to bless her. On my second visit I met the entire family. and Norbert was no where in sight. The sun was at about in the sky and I knew there was only about 2 hours of daylight remaining. I also knew something was no right when some of the young men of the village began to fuss with a cell phone and talk very quickly. As I continued to watch the sun melting away I began to mentally prepare myself for the prospect of spending the night in the village. It wouldn’t have bothered me to stay but I didn’t have anything to sleep on, a bed net, and all the skinny dogs I saw running about the village were host to their personal family of ticks. Word finally came via text message Norbert had broken down again. I decided if I am getting out of here I better move to plan “B”. Earlier in the afternoon I took noticed a couple of the men in the village riding dirt bikes and ask if one of them could help me out. Shortly thereafter I found myself on the back of a 350 Honda dirt bike. This machine was much better suited for dirt riding 2 up. My new chauffeur and I headed north. About five miles out this bike stopped. The spark plug wire had vibrated out of the coil. I was beginning to think the Gods wanted me to spend the night at the Village. This development did not faze my new driver as he quickly jammed the wire back into the coil and we were off. Apparently this was the standard operating procedure.

We caught up with Norbert a short while later along side the road and Dismas was no where to be seen. Norbert had been waiting along side the road for about an hour and a half. He had sent Dismas ahead on foot to hopefully make his way back to the village via dala dala. The dala dala line ends at the begins at the Nburma a short distance south of Ndurma. Norbert wanted me to check the spark plug again. I think he was impressed with my performance earlier in the day and had been waiting for me to “cure” the motor bike once again. Out of respect I humored him and checked the plug. During the process I noticed the petcock was still on reserve. After removing the fuel line and seeing NO petro trickling out, the problem was clear. Norbert had set on the side of the road for an hour and a half hours because he was out of gas AGAIN. Normally I would have popped a gasket, but I was more relieved to learn the problem wasn’t the condenser or points or something more serious problem. We drained a couple cups of gas from the second bike and put it into Norbert’s gas tank and were on our way. A short time later we arrived in Ndurma where we met up with Dismas. Norbert put a liter of gas in the tank and we continued Manyire where Norbert delivered me and hastily returned to collect Dismas.

I was hot, tired and dirty so I thought I’d take a bucket bath while waiting for Norbert and Dismas and before it grew completely dark. This plan sounded good until I discovered the well was low. This must be a common occurrence remembering all the activity had I witnessed around the well each morning. I was told the water supply for the village comes from the run off from Meru. The mountain replenishes the wells during the night, but there isn’t enough run off to sustain the well all day. Norbert’s wife saw me at the well and gave me a dry wall bucket of water. That was all she could spare and I was grateful to accept her kindness. I took my bath using only two and a half gallons of water, saving the other two and a half gallons for Dismas. Just after sun down Norbert and Dismas arrived. I was relieved because you do not travel at night around here. When I told Dismas I saved him some water he said thanks but decided a couple beers would be a better idea. I believe his day was a little more challenging than mine.

We walked into the village and chatted a couple hours over 3 beers each, then called it a night. Next morning we were kept from returning to as it had rained and the river was to high and swift to cross. March is the beginning of the rainy season and the water was dearly needed. When the van from GSC arrived to take Dismas and I back to Arusha I ask to stop by the dispensary in Ndumra where I donated the medical supplies I had brought and had not used.

The driver said this would be fine so Dismas and I jumped into the van and headed for Ndurma with Norbert following us on his motorcycle…..until he ran out of petrol.

I don’t know if you have ever seen a movie called “The Gods Must Be Crazy”. It is a III part movie about some life in adventures some people have experienced there. It is most humorous and I highly recommend taking the time to see all three sequels. I especially enjoyed part II. By the way keep an eye out because Dismas and I agreed to work on part IV.