The wind has really picked up, and the mornings and evenings are starting to get chilly.
“I came to Africa to be hot, not cold!” says Armorel.
We headed into the clinic for another day, well half day for me. The Friday football is happening at 1pm today so I need to leave work early.
I spent the morning helping to count money for the end of the month pay packets. You forget that hardly anyone has a bank account, so it is all cash in hand.
It was soon late morning and I was heading home on my bike. Armorel was out and about visiting all the familia moja patients, and had a few ‘wazungus’ from the church with her.
She felt like an uncomfortable tour guide, with the whites taking photos of the poor black people.
We are being challenged daily.
No kids for football!
There was some problem at the shelter, so after a short wait, I headed home. However, I managed to get my exercise on the way back.
As I was cycling along I saw a train of 7 men on their bikes. Young, manual labourers heading home for the day, who seemed to be racing /showing macho strength in their cycling power.
They were flying along and I thought it would be good to join in.
I soon caught the last mans wheel, but then the road started up a hill. I changed gear. Fatal mistake, I started going backwards. The only gear to keep up with them was my lowest (of my total 4 gears) and my legs were burning.
The hill is over 1km, and though not hugely steep, it feels it with the sun beating down on you.
I was still in touch at the top of the hill and managed to pass 2 on the top. It might be because one slowed to answer his mobile and the other waited for him, but I was not last.
However, the rest of the group pulled a 30m gap and held it. These were strong men. Why there are no Tanzanian cyclists in the Tour de France, I just don’t know.
Hotel Rwanda, chapatti and beans served as our evening entertainment.
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