We arrived in Dodoma yesterday afternoon after another day of 97km on dirt roads. Heavy going. It has been six days of solid cycling and our reintroduction into the cycling regime has been a baptism of fire. The bikes and bodies are tired, but miraculously, both still fine. But we are now resting in Dodoma, managed to catch the Stormers game last night, and we are about to have a day of solid admin – Need to keep that cash flowing in!
As we arrived in yesterday we cycled straight into the Prime Minister’s office. We didn’t know where to stay, and Gareth figured that if anyone knew a good place to stay, the Prime Minister would. So we asked the guard if we could have an audience with the PM. The response was “Wait one moment, please.” Unfortunately, the Prime Minister is in Dar at the moment, but one of his economic advisors came out to meet us. Obey is currently doing his PhD in economics at the University of Cape Town. Within moments a couple of lecturers names were being bandied around. Good times. He’s pulling some strings with the PM’s personal assistant and seeing if we can meet the man on Monday. Craziness continues.
Dodoma is an interesting place. It is much like any African city and is about the size of Kokstad! Unlike most African cities, there appears to be a very small expat community here and, as a result, very few western comforts. We did find the new Dodoma hotel – way out of our budgetary range, but too bad an option to hang out, have some food and collapse into the lounge’s leather couches as I do now. I live for these moments on this trip - small moments when I can forget that I am in the thick of the chaos that is Africa, and that for a little glitch in time I am back in a world in which I am familiar, and most importantly, I am clean and comfortable. Perhaps it is cheating, perhaps I should be embracing the dirt more, but this is me, and I love a few small comforts every so often!
In the city there is the regular bustle of street vendors, doe-eyed children in pale blue saris and charismatic young men shouting a ‘Wassup’ in an attempt to be trendy… What always hits me hard though is that when one looks a little deeper beyond the life and colour, one can always find the devastating tales of the under layer: a man with debilitating leprosy; a woman sitting in the dirt breastfeeding a young child; a mangy kitten on its last legs… Again: this is Africa.
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