Walking

Viewed from our vehicle, the natural state of Africans is walking. Walking north, walking south, walking with a load, walking empty-handed, walking to school, walking home, walking alone, in groups, dressed in rags, dressed in a suit and tie, walking in the cool of the morning, the heat of the day and the blackness of night. 

Where they are going, why they are going there and what they do when they arrive is a mystery. We can be miles from any visible village and there are still people walking. Always along the roadside, oblivious to the the clouds of dust and diesel thrown up by the trucks or the tons of plastic water bottles that form a carpet at the roadside. 

One thing we are sure of is that they don’t walk from the love of it. If a bicycle is available or a bus or a motorbike or a tuk tuk they will all be preferred. But it’s a sign of how little money is around that we’ve only seen motorbikes and tuk tuks in Tanzania. 

Still, everyone loves an old car - there’s constant waving and cheering as we pass through the villages (and there are hundreds of villages). Well, nearly everyone loves an old car. Stones were thrown at us in one village, smashing a side widow on a Mustang and denting the door of one of the Fangios (bloody good shots but completely terrifying to us drivers and Navigators)

To be honest, if I had no choice but to walk everywhere everyday I might be tempted to throw the odd stone myself. We are lucky Africans are so accepting of their lot and beautifully good natured.