Journey into the bush

Some beers after the bus journey from town and before the dusty road and walk into the bush

This was the bar

Pylons and cables track through the open countryside

Some goats wandering around, grazing

Carrying water

Sunset

The dusty road

I got invited over the the rasta guy's house and accepted since it meant saving money on staying somewhere dirty and basic in town. It was a Sunday afternoon so it seemed like a good idea to take the bus and get out of town for the rest of the day. The bus took ages, we had gone quite travelled quite far and left the city well and truly behind. We stopped for a couple of beers before we started our walk through open fields to his house. The first bar was packed out with men watching a football game so we went somewhere smaller and quieter. A lot smaller. It was just a shop that had a couple of seats outside so you could sit down and drink. The bar/shop front was barred with a metal grill, the small assortment of sodas, beers and conyagui for sale was on display on a simple shelf inside.

We sat and chatted, listened to some music whilst the sun started to set. I was unfortunately placed near an ant trail, they kept crawling all over me and making me very itchy.

The walk to the house was long and once we left the main dirt road we were making our way through maize fields and countryside on dusty, narrow and winding paths, crossing small streams and trudging through boggy mud. We arrived just as it was getting dark, but I could see that the house was still under construction. I was hoping for better, but having seen some of the places we had passed by and knowing how remote we were, I had been fearing the worst. The front door steps were still bare breeze blocks and dust. The doorway was open with no sign of a door or means of locking up for safety. The 'living room' area was empty aside from an old motorbike that looked like it no longer worked and bags of concrete. It looked like a building site, not a home. The windows were open, unglazed. There was no sign of a kitchen, just a bedroom, the only area that was 'homely' and habitable. There was no electricity but they had a flat car battery and a few electrical items. A foam mattress bed (uncomfortable) and mosquito net with loads of cigarette burn holes. There were burnt down candles and items of clothes, a kanga covering the window as a curtain. He seemed slightly embarrassed me and asked me what I thought and kept repeating that I should make myself comfortable but it wasn't exactly a comfortable place to be as far as I was concerned. I didn't want to see judgemental and snobby so I smiled and said I liked it.

Some friends were lingering outside, we all sat out on the patio, the moon high in the sky. Someone was sent out to go and pick up some chips mayai (chips and egg) from somewhere close by. I sat on a deck chair that had be upholstered with an old raffia sack. We all listened to reggae. It was nice, peaceful, relaxing but at the same time I was concerned about where I was and registering that what I was doing was a little bit odd. The kind of thing that people advise you not to do when you are travelling. Don't hang out with strangers, in remote places. I don't know any of his friends and I only met him recently so it's not like I have a lot to go by.

The toilet and shower cubicle was a hut outside. A hole in the ground, use a bucket sort of a thing. Terrifying. It was clean, but I really can't get used the the idea of standing naked and washing right next to an open hole like that.  He could see that I was a little shocked at the very basic living standards but his place really was beyond simple and I couldn't imagine how frustrating it would be living like that all the time. Cold water bucket showers every day. Washing clothes by hand, living by candle light, sitting outside in the dark, being eaten alive by mosquitoes. I need creature comforts, a few nice things, a home. It was incredibly eye opening but as experiences go it wasn't particularly rich and exciting. I've been in similar(ish) situations on the past but still found that on the whole the emersion into others ways of living was valuable and fun. All we did was sit around briefly and eat and drink. It was lacklustre to say the least and when the time came for us to retire to our room the open windows and possibility of others lingering outside the open windows was slightly off-putting. I would have been happier sitting out and looking up at the stars for longer, getting warm and cosy and musing over the cosmos. But maybe even that's a luxury. I don't know spending time with this guy really makes me think a lot about development problems in Africa and the profound effect that lack of so many things has on them in comparison to us.