Usa River. Arusha. Monduli.

December 19^th – 20^th.

Finally – our departure date had arrived. Our petsitters – Sherri and Gerri Gallant, from Prince Edward Island, Canada – had arrived safely, been introduced to Pickle and our lovely neighbour Nicky  and were safely established at home.

I had rushed off to school in the early morning, seeing my class off into assembly and the end of term house music competition before jumping into Nicky’s car to get to the airport. All rather a rush, but, thankfully, not panicked as sometimes it has been. I had been assembling our packing for a couple of months and, in the end, it was just a matter of carefully putting everything into a suitcase and a couple of bags – all meticulously weighed and measured to comply with airline rules.

We were off to Gatwick, resigned to a coach trip to Heathrow after our Gatwick flight had been cancelled and changed to Heathrow. That change, which had been a minor annoyance, proved to be a major blessing after Gatwick airport was closed shortly after we left. A drone had invaded the airspace and caused major disruption to flights, many of which were cancelled.  We would not have been where we are now....

...in Usa River, Tanzania! Our Qatar Airline flight took us first to Doha (Airbus 330, good entertainment and food, relatively comfortable seats) and then, after a short transit time in the large, state of the art terminal, on to Kilimanjaro Airport outside Arusha (Airbus 320, no entertainment, less good food and more uncomfortable seating – we were tired by that time).

A relief to get out of the plane, successfully obtain our tourist visas and endure immigration (passports checked, photos and fingerprints taken – I wasn’t very good at the latter so Tanzania now has 3 sets of my left hand) to then find Jonny waiting for us outside.

Back in Africa. Familiar yet unfamiliar – it had been nearly four decades since either of us had travelled the road from the airport towards Arusha. Tiny shops and ‘hotellis’ lining the highway, the bright orangey-red of the flamboyant trees – yes, their name IS flamboyant, or Delonix Regia officially and, in Tanzania, the ‘Christmas tree’. Other names include flame tree and royal Poinciana.

Over Kenya, looking north towards the Highlands.

Descending over Arusha

Another wonderfully red tree is the Erythrina family. Erythrina Lysistemon, Erythrina abyssinica, often referred to, vaguely, as the Lucky Bean tree. Over 100 varieties around the world...It is the trees and plants which fascinate, along with the bird life.

In their little garden surrounding their house on the school compound, Jonny has created a beautiful space filled with flowers and trees. In less than eighteen months, pawpaw trees are several feet tall, bananas towering up to the roof. The veranda is surrounded with bird of paradise, canna lilies, protea; the flowerbeds full of bright  blooms, most familiar; a lemon geranium in a large clay pot scents the air.

Mount Meru towering above the house.

Mount Kilimanjaro in the distant haze.

We sit, rediscovering birds with delight. A vulture soars high above us, Mount Meru peeping hazily out of the clouds – it is the short rainy season and it has recently rained. A pair of Wahlberg’s eagles sit in the tall silky oak – Grevillea robusta, we remember – calling a distinctive chittering to each other. Reichenhow’s weavers flit busily in and out of their complicated nests. A small sunbird dives in and out of the bougainvillea; a white-browed coucal flaps lazily over the hedge. We hear a boo-boo shrike’s echoing call; the red-chested cuckoo calls, “It will rain! It will rain!” Von Der Dekkens hornbill; lilac-breasted roller; fiscal shrike; speckled mousebirds, surprisingly large... so many dry-country species dear to our hearts, every one with an associated memory....

Arrow Marked Babblers

Wahlberg's Eagles

The school is lovely: well-built brick buildings with a huge amount of space for the children to play. Simple classrooms. A  wonderful, wooden-floored library, with nooks for reading in. A soft play room full of bean bags for romping on. Tree house, jungle gym, ropes and slide. A good-sized swimming pool, warm in the hot sun.

We sing along with George Ezra...”I am riding shotgun, underneath the hot sun...”

It is good to be here.

We had a day at Jonny and Adele's house, then it was time to make our way to Byron and Lisa's house for Christmas.

Leaving Usa River to drive through Arusha, making our way through the sea of vehicles which Jonny navigates with calm efficiency as motorbikes pass us on all sides, weaving in and out of traffic with inches to spare, we head out for a few days with the Bordens.

Monduli Mountain

The start of the coffee farm

Arriving at Byron and Lisa's home on Monduli Estate outside Arusha is like coming home. Wherever she lives, Lisa creates beauty. African artefacts nestle next to hand-created azure pottery, David Shepherd animal prints with local art.

Her Christmas tree is a sisal branch, adorned with beaded ornaments, made by a bead project in the Loita Hills in Kenya. Also once the Bordens' home.

Nativity sets and a Swedish Christmas star reminds of Christmas. Adele and I contribute pepparkakor, traditional Swedish spicy biscuits, my own Christmas tradition.

This home is an African oasis. Perched on the side of a hill, the garden is filled with bougainvillea and hisbiscus, sisal and all manner of lilies. Lavender lines the paths, scenting the air along with the purple, mauve and white blossoms of the yesterday, today and tomorrow bush. All so, so familiar.

We rejoice in decades of deep and valued friendship; of shared experiences, memories bubbling up one after the other. Lives joined despite years and thousand miles of separation.

We talk, too, of this: of the disconnect between who we were, and are, and of how the places we live affect our identity. Of the feeling of desperately wanting to feel at home in close community, to feel at peace with who we are, where we are. Of how, at the deepest level, this craving stems from God and can only be truly satisfied in relationship with God.

Complicated.

Meanwhile, we enjoy the peace of this place, the beauty of the physical and the emotional reconnection with such dear friends.

Birds delight. Flycatchers perch on a branch in front of us. Yellow-vented bulbuls fly between bushes. At a sudden sound, a flock of speckled mousebirds skeeter from a bush to swoop across the lawn. Reichenhows weavers come to the bird table.

We walk through the coffee plantation, bushes just over flowering, the faint scent of the blossoms still lingering on the air. An African black kite soars overhead, wheeling and diving the thermals with precision as it journeys beside our path.

Sundowner drives up the hill give us views across the Rift Valley - Lake Manyara, Serengeti lie beyond the folded hills. Mount Meru hides in clouds; terraced fields stretch out; acacia thorn trees are dotted wherever we look.

Monduli on the left and Mount Meru behind the tree.

Contentment.