Crtd 06-03-19 Lastedit 15-10-27

No problem to stand up saa moja. I do not even need an alarm clock. not even in a well darkened room. The saa moja bird sound is the same all around the lake, and the Hotel Triangle Annex architecture adds an echo to it that is seriously appreciated by the musicians.

Sunday, March 19
Philemon reports bad weather. We are waiting. I feel very weak this morning. It is not clearly malaria. May be only typhoid. My plan was to be off to Joseph now,  4 km down the road south of Masaka to the Tanzanian border, then to the right on dirt 500 m partly steep uphill. I extract from his flyer (with cadre in original colour)

Map: Maiden Voyage with a, courtesy Tanzanian Immigration
untested dhow with uncaulked deck. The route from Mwanza to Jinja. 250 miles.
At the sharp turn I step up to pilot my Tanzanian crew through Uganda waters.

Joseph is one hour by motorcycle from the intended meeting beach. But I wait a day to see what disease I have. Between Joseph and the beach you have only witchdoctors.

Gabriel was to make my anchor vessel as a traditional small boat, but courtesy the immigration of his country, Tanzania, he is out of that business. I had already bought the mninga wood, but mninga is hard to get in Uganda, so we'll take that to make the hatches. When I left Tanzania I called Gabriel to lock the wood. Of course to protect it from Daniel. Gabriel, however, decided to put it in Daniels store. When Philemon came to load it in the dhow, Daniel refused. That was up to Gabriel to decide, he said, knowing very well I bought it and it was mine. He also knew Gabriel was home, out of GSM coverage, so Daniel had some hope to be left with it by "defending his brother Gabriel". I called him, shouted through the telephone lete mbao wangu jahazini, kwa haraka! (Put my wood in the dhow, and fast!), and hang up. Feleshi and Philemon finally later that day succeeded to make Daniel give up his attempt to be left with my wood, and it was loaded. Daniel, I am sure, is far to stupid to understand the trouble in which he is maneuvering himself. Apart from that, imagine how many rich foreigners will ask me in the coming years who can make such a boat and what answer I now will have to give to them! ("Daniel, but you will need a machine gun").

In the afternoon Philemon reports clear weather, but the usual afternoon lake wind (head). This normally turns to land wind at night. We have to wait for 22:00 hrs. The moon is still pretty full, so there is some light. Explain my GPS by telephone? No way of course. These are excellent but completely traditional sailors with a completely traditional boat. No maps, just the moon and having been out there before. There is nothing I can do but trust the ancestors.

Monday, March 20, 2006
I have neither typhoid nor malaria. My weakness has gone. I park my car at 2 Friends Restaurant and prepare for my motorbike ride to Masaka. The phone rings, Philemon, he had left the beach and was now under the island of Ukerewe, the ship is fast, the sail could even have been larger, he thinks.
Into the African kamikaze traffic. Think of 11 year olds driving cars: they can do it, with great skill and agility even, but there is no awareness of risk, which is why in the West 11 year olds are not allowed to drive vehicles. I drive to Masaka prudently, I don't want to get killed before I have seen my dhow under sail. At sunset I miss the dirt road up to Joseph, but half an hour later I find it on return.

Photo: with Joseph, his staff Jane and a book from Joseph's library (other books: History of East Africa, Complete Speeches of Nyerere, Introduction To Economics).

Tuesday, March 21
No news from Philemon, his phone is off the network. I fight my boredom by refreshing my website through an internet caf� in Masaka. On half dial up speed - all you can get in Uganda for a fair price -  a time consuming job that had to be done anyway. I replace the index page by a blank. I do not think the monkeys check it, but before my dhow is out of the country they are "running" I take no chances. In the new set up the password protection is over. I am fed up with it. I have nothing to hide. If others wish to hide things, they should take care I do not get to know them. I want to die free and clean, even though I know very well that God hates to see such people at his gate. I do not care, after all, He created me as an unbeliever. Its not my business.

Wednesday, March 22
05:53 hrs. Philemon calls. He entered the Bukoba region of the lake. "We are going very fast". I notice that in my thoughts I had started calling him Cacambo, after Candide's servant, who brought him his Eldorado diamond sheep - that is, the not stolen, not robbed, not extorted remains in as far as not killed by disease - from wherever Candide was chased, banned or had to flee, in the end even bringing to him - over the Atlantic (!!!) - his beloved Cunegonda (who unfortunately meanwhile had gone ugly). I will give my Cacambo a lot. An English translation of Voltaire's Candide will be part of it.

Meanwhile Joseph tells me not to think that the Mwanza immigration monkeys consider themselves as bad people. According to Joseph, who agrees with me they are, they think "such things happen". Similarly for beggars, thieves, robbers, etc. It is allowed as long as you are not caught, you can even boost about it. But Africa does know morality and shame: a few weeks ago a man near the Backpacker's camp site was spotted fucking a goat. He has lost his face completely, has been expelled from his village, and his whereabouts are unknown.

Thursday March 23
10: 14 hrs. No news from Philemon. He might have been held by a rain storm. Anyway. No power here. Batteries for laptop and cell phone near down. I leave Joseph, go to Masaka town for a generator charge, a last internet session and a Ugandan SIM card for Philemon. Then head for the beach.