I’ve arrived in Karatu. The drive here took 12 hours: Colin, Paff, Carolyn, Enoch, Lisa, Megan, and I boarded the bus, each with our mkuu, at 6am in Dar. One by one each pair jumped ship and dove into a life in their respective villages. Going to Karatu I was among the last to arrive. The ride was beautiful, passing through highlands in Kilimanjaro region then passing Mt. Kili herself, stopping in the beautiful, clean, and green city of Moshi, then on through Arusha where we got a glimpse of Mt. Meru, Tanzania’s second highest peak and one I plan to frequent. The journey continued as we drove through grassy plains and fertile, rolling hills laden with sisal, palm, and camels, through highlands and valleys. Through the Rift Valley, past Lake Manyara, and finally, we arrive in Karatu.
Karatu. A small town with a beautiful backdrop. Walk to the top of the hill and you can see for miles, past the only paved road in the area, past the rows of shops and crumbling buildings, to the fields and hills in the distance. The drive into my village is heavily peppered with farms, plots of land full of pigeon peas and banana trees, we pass herds of goats, cows, sheep, young boys steering cattle-pulled rickshaws filled with buckets of water, followed by donkeys with jugs of water draped across their backs. One moment I feel like I’m in a rainforest, the dirt is red and and trees high, dense groups of sisal line the road, and before I know it we’ve emerged onto a savannah, covered in short grass for livestock to munch on and sparsely populated with trees.
The road is unpaved and for 23 kilometers I grasp the “oh shit” bar by the window, clench my muscles and step on an imaginary brake as we cruise head on at full speed towards herds of cattle crossing the road. They’ll move, my mkuu assures me, but that dog resting in the middle of the road looks quite content where he’s sitting, staring at us without a care in the world and just as the car approaches, not two meters from where he sits he gets up and strolls away. We trudge on.
Up and up the road goes, then down again and back up, not up a mountain but to the highlands of this part of Karatu. We emerge from another rainforest-like grove, drive on muddy, brown dirt, and I see the school ahead. We make a U-turn, drive through the school grounds, through the perimeter of classrooms and past the new laboratory, still under construction and looking quite nice. Through the stick fence we pass four houses, the last being my own. Finally, I am home.
