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Leaving Bujora

The bees are strangely silent this morning. Maybe their work is done and they have simply moved on. I am looking forward to doing the same. The sun rises a perfect orange behind the trees throwing them into silhouette. I can see it from where I lie in my hammock.

Edele turns up and parks herself in the sun. She wants to be alone with me to talk. I am being stalked. I have had enough. I have been polite and welcoming to this woman but I have given her no encouragement. I had been enjoying the fact that the hangers on had got bored and I had been left with Paulo, Sherega, Lau and Cos for company. This development is proving to be a nightmare. I pack my bags ready for the walk down to Bujora.

I apologies to Laurian for bringing this trouble to him but he shrugs his shoulders. “As for me no worries, I am at peace. But some people you know, they see you, they think maybe if they can be with you they can get money, maybe a ticket to Europe.”

It’s impossible not to love this funny peace loving man, the cadence of his voice moving fluidly between Sukuma, Swahili and English, sitting there in his official green CCM jacket, clowning around at his own expense. He cares about the people and values the way of life of his father and mother but I can’t help thinking he has given up something. There is much wisdom in how he lives but there is also a lot of drinking and lying around doing nothing.

I can’t live this life. I’m tired of the constant smoking, the nightly drinking, the total lack of privacy and the lack of a plan or vision that would make conditions here better. I have honored the memory of my first visit and found again the genuine friendship with which I was welcomed. But I am not the same person I was 15 years ago and neither is Laurian. I’m not exactly sure what I’m going to do next but I know I need to get out of here- to find another part of Tanzania and to find myself again. If Laurian is a mirror then I’m angry at the face in the mirror.

Laurian escaped back to Kisesa and Bujora where he could sit on the cool hill side listening to the bees that really own this secluded glade, humming their steady chant. After a while if fills you all up that hum.

He might have thought he could escape from the horrors of the world in his little corner of Usukumani but the world is heading straight towards him on the hard metal of the Musoma road and there’s nothing he can do to stop it.

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