All You Can Eat

There is a loud honk and we swerve onto the gravel “shoulder”. One, two, … five trucks rumble past and we get back on the road. It has definitely lived up to its reputation and we’re flirting with disaster by taking it. But there isn’t really another option. For about 100km we experience frequent adrenaline rushes but luckily nothing happens to us.

Later we’re told that just outside Mbeya, one day before we got there, a truck lost their brakes and 30 people died. With our nerves slightly frayed we make it into town and go directly to a nice cafe with enticing treats. We place an order for about half the menu. It’s time for Ben to pork up.

Our bellies full of veggie burger, fruit salad and milkshake we head up to Paul’s place. An incurable gossip and lovable know-it-all he has lived in Africa for over 50 years. He has opened his home to all the gypsies, vagabonds and other riffraff that come through southern Tanzania.

Paul is happy to drive us from one Mbeya tourist highlight to the next, starting at an Indian hairdresser who knows their way around white people’s hair and ending at a warehouse where we get to hold day-old chicks. For a moment we contemplate rescuing Alex von Humboldt and Cotton Tufts. They are too cute to be eaten in six weeks.

Our days in Mbeya are generally spent trying to get down as many tasty calories as possible. Whether that be through chocolate, local honey, pancakes, mashed potato, Indian food or yoghurt. We’re not picky. As on his hike through Europe, Ben starts to eat meat again. The latest episode of illness and antibiotics have left him even scrawnier than usual and he seems to be running a perpetual calorie/protein deficit. Sorry animals.

With Paul we swap life stories with the best of the Vietnam war playing in the background. Lina kicks Ben’s ass at pool (once). Our mouths wide open, we listen to the traveler stories of David and Kelly. David (a self proclaimed drunken Irish gypsy) left home when he was just 15 years old and traveled to Italy.

People say that we are crazy for cycling through Africa, but it’s all relative. Kelly and David have spent a few hours in a Kenyan jail and partied with the taliban. And these are just two little anecdotes from years and years on the road. We feel very conventional by comparison.

After a few days of rest Ben feels sufficiently restored and we say our goodbyes to Paul. We start a big climb into the hills before the border with Malawi. It’s pleasantly cool and even raining in the night. We get out our sweaters (probably for the last time) and snuggle into our sleeping bags. Down in the valley we can just about catch a glimpse of lake Malawi.

Aside from Ben’s prolonged illness we really enjoyed our month in Tanzania. For the first time we are tempted to say that we might come back some day. The people are friendly, but not as in-your-face as elsewhere we’ve been. We didn’t feel like everyone was trying to hustle us out of cash all the time and there was very little begging.

A third of a year, five countries and almost 5000km have slipped away under our tires. By now we are seasoned border crossing veterans and easily haggle over the black market rate from Tanzanian shillings to Malawian kwatcha (the best currency in name, if not in value). The excitement is rising, as is the temperature.