I was glad to be back in Kisesa after my sojourn in Mwanza. Laurian had taken the day off work and had already headed up to Bujora and was sitting enjoying the cool air on the hill while he and Cos prepared fish and rice. I had brought a pineapple with me and some ginger so we ate the pineapple and I prepared some ginger and chilli for the fish and tomato sauce. We sat a

Saturday night finds me back in the comfort of St Dominic's after my first foray into Sukuma country. I haven't told many people this but last time I was in Mwanza, two days after meeting Baba Lau I changed all my travelers cheques into dollars and lent them him to buy a Landrover. I suppose many people would call me crazy but I had no doubt that I could trust him and sure enough the money was returned to me in full a week later.

The first time I travelled the road to Kisesa I was carrying a rucksack and clinging onto the back of a Landrover with three toes supporting my weight on a footboard. The road was a broken tarmac track full of pot holes and we often had to steer onto the opposite side of the road to avoid the larger ones.

Today the road is made anew. Two lanes of clear metal run to Musoma lined with power cables and Duka's and a steady stream of Daladalas cramped with people runs back and forth.

I confess I was beginning to get blasé about the ease of access to the so essential accoutrements of modern life. I am bought sharply back to reality when 30 seconds before I press send on a very long email the electricity supply for the entire district goes out with a bang taking my email and the computer I am using with it. Uhuru Street is plunged into darkness broken only by the succession of candles that stutter into action in the small Dukas along the street.

It really is very comfortable at the St Dominic Pastoral centre where I am staying and I am disinclined to move on although it is stretching my budget a little. Still I am feeling more and more at home walking around and making friends. I had my first meal of Ugali today and very nice it was too. Ugali is the local stable made from corn and casava usually, a sort of playdoh dumpling that you eat with your hands, dipping it in meat sauce or spinach or beans usually. I am also testing out all the local internet cafe's to find the one's with the fastest access and most amiable service.

Dar es Salam is hot busy and wet. I take my time at the airport and pay a reasonable price for Papa Ibrahim to take me to the Jambo hotel. I don't may much attention to my surroundings I'm just glad to find a place to stay and get out of my 36 hours old clothes.

Finally there comes a point in all the preparations where you say, enough, that's it. There is no more I can do. Glorious letting go.

The first leg of my journey to Dar passes off without incident although I am a little annoyed that after they have got us into the air, fed us and plied us with alcohol the next thing they do is close all the windows, switch off the lights and say nighty night. Don't get me wrong, there is nothing that happens on a plane that isn't improved by sleeping through it.