What an amazing new year. After fleeing Mzuzu (see posting when added) we happened to pull into a carpark in Karonga, next to a bank and lo and behold there were our intrepid german friends going for an afternoon walk. Flash forward to New Years Eve and we decide to head from Dar es Salaam to Kigamboni beach just outside of Dar for a bit of sun worshipping over the new year. We jogged onto the back of the ferry as it pulled away from the wharf, doing our best to emulate the complacent style of the locals (though we didn't have big bundles of fish/bags of coconuts on our heads).
Once there we did the rounds of the hotels and to our shock found they were booked (New Years Eve must be a big deal over here). Our helpful taxi driver came through with a last alternative once we managed to convince him that we were capable of staying in a 'local' hotel. So that is how we arrived at Ngonda village camp. Literally on the beach (white sand, turquoise water) we settled into our airy thatched bungalows, Renu and I in "London" and Irmi and Hubert in "Rome". The bathroom facilities were almost exactly like those 5 star exotic hotels in the tropics. That is they were outside right by the beach, surrounded by only a thatched fence and surrounded by palm trees. The only difference was that rather than a pebbled floor and plumbed facilities there was a hole in the ground and a 44 gallon drum of water with a half platic bottle floating in it. All in all pretty good for $10 for a full night. Especially when you consider the security.
On exploring we found that adjacent was a massive local pub/restaurant which was gearing up for a big New Years celebration with a stage and a stack of speakers powerful enough to call someone to dinner from the moon.
This was as local as it gets and so was the smell of our clothes, so we enquired about getting some laundry done.
"No problem! Just wait I'll call Masai"
5 minutes later our host returned with a Masai warrior!?! A real Masai warrior. An authentic fully kitted out Masai warrior who grinned eagerly at us in anticipation of receiving our laundry as if he had travelled from the Masai Mara specifically for that purpose.
The only modern element of Masai's attire was a pair of red board shorts under his gown which bore the insignia of Tuggerah Westfield Shopping Centre (very strange!). This was the second encounter with clothes from home we have had travelling through Africa. The other was when we met someone drinking at the bar in Malawi wearing an authentic St. Aloysius' College Cadet unit camouflage shirt. Unfortunately in that instance the first name of the original owner had worn off the tag but "Chan" was clearly discerible (further investigation perhaps of the DNA variety will be required to facilitate a re-union of doner and recipient).
Well if one thing can be said for the Masai, it is that they can wash clothes. Our clothes were so clean after the Masai treatment I started to imagine a laundry powder and advertising campaign built wholely around Masai. We were happy to be informed that Masai was our security, in fact we were enthusiasticly told "No problem, no worry, Masai security" so many times that we started to worry and contemplate what sort of environment necessitated a fully armed Masai warrior as security.
As the day progressed so did the insanity of our host who took to obsessively sweeping and re-sweeping and arranging and re-arranging the seats out the front of our bungalow. His ramblings became so malarial at times that we often would have to feign a language barrier and a need to be somewhere else. This was becoming inconvenient as he generally camped himself outside our front door and remained there nearly all of New Years Eve day and night and into New Years Day.
And so it was with much happiness, many 500ml, $1 beers, a little horrible south african wine and far too much drunken Australian and German free form dancing that we hailed in the New Year. It was an absolute blast!!! The music was loud, the beers were cold and the locals were friendly. In fact given the number of people, the age distribution, amount of alcohol not to mention the usual funtion of our lodgings (Renu and I really should write a guide book to African Brothels on our return) it was a very well behaved evening. Much less seedy that an Australian equivalent. I wonder how much of this had to do with the presence of Masai.
Masai was neither tall or particularly thick set but he was the most impressive and scary security I have ever seen. The silhoutte he cast moving sharply through the half light which dappled the revellers was striking and sobering. The ratio of party go-ers to Masai was impressive. Unfortunately Masai declined a photo this day.
Speaking of sobreity I declined (with some little trepidation) Masai's request for a second Kilamanjaro beer. Being unsure of his normal drinking habits, I was loathe to facilitate the reduction of his inhibitions any further lest he take to his security duties with too much gusto and his unsheathed knife.
Thankfully the night ended well and we were confidently walked back to our bungalow by an unstumbling Masai at around 4 in the morning and there would be no slashing that night.
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