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Wednesday morning I sorted things out for going to Musoma, did some more text editing on the website and went to SWIWSCO. I came back home and sat outside with Witness. Suddenly I heard the noise of a chicken. I looked around and found a chicken had appeared from inside a carrier bag on the floor, its legs were bound. Our neighbour came out shortly afterwards and prepared to kill the chicken…

After lunch I again tried to go to the internet cafe, but it was closed today too. I came home and started to pack. I persuaded Witness to help me make Mandazi so I could take them with me for lunch the next day. Had another good session at KCMC with the frisbee team. After I had dinner, the power went yet again. I was hoping to Skype, but this was not just a local cut but all of Moshi. I went to SWIWSCO for a while and it was slightly mental with no power. I returned home and there was still no power, so I finished packing by torch-light and went to bed.

Omario came round to get me at 7:45. I was worried as we were held up by a broken down truck and they said ensure you don’t arrive after 8. I should have realised this wouldn’t be a problem and as the shuttle didn’t leave till 8:30 – the Precision Air shuttle is also 10,000ts (£4/$6.20). As I started to queue for check-in we were informed that their systems had just crashed… Luckily this crash didn’t last long. I signed up to be a frequent flyer with Precision Air and this meant I got to the front of the line.

I tried to buy some ear plugs at the airport but the few shops are just filled with over priced tourist stuff. I was surprised that we boarded the plane, which was under half full. I have been on quiet a lot of planes, and this was definitely the oldest commercial plane I’d ever been on. The flight was only 1 hour 15, we passed Mt Meru, which is 4,565m, and we were flying under the height of the peak!

The airport in Mwanza is brilliant. On the decent to the airport there is a wonderful view of Lake Victoria. Once we landed we boarded an old bus to take us to the ‘terminal’ and a seriously old tractor took our luggage. We waited in a small room for our bags. The room is raised up from the runway, a wooden hatched is opened at floor level and the bags were unceremoniously thrown in.

I grabbed an empty Dala Dala and jumped in the front seat, which was great as I had room even with my bag at my feet. The driver spoke reasonable English and told me I would be able to get the 1 Dala Dala all the way to Buzuruga bus station. The Dala Dala took forever. We were first held up, by what looked like a 3 man cycling race. Then we stopped for over 20 mins near a market with lots of other Dala Dala’s. All the conducts were trying desperately to fill their bus. They would grab passes by to try to get them in their Dala Dala. I even saw a few times a passenger being pulled by two different conducts at the same time.

When we finally made it a guy attached himself to me and showed me where to buy water and which bus to get. The bus was quite nice, with a cushioned-ish seat and even a TV. It took nearly 4 hours to make the journey from Mwanza to Musoma an I arrived just 4:30. The countryside was so different; With the lake, rolling hills and large Granite rocks everywhere.

I had arranged my trip with Arthur my trip to Musoma. Arthur is the link officer between Mara Diocese and Wakefield Diocese, as well as being head of the education department. After picking me up he apologised for not coming to get me from Mwanza and followed this up by saying correctly he knew nothing much about me. He took me to the offices, where I was surprised to learn 64 people work there. He introduced me to Cannon Francis, who is the assistant secretary for the diocese and Martha who is head of the Women’s Institute in Tanzania and the Bishops wife.

After receiving many warms welcomes we went to my room in the Anglican hostel, which is just behind the offices and the Cathedral. Arthur flew away to visit another village before the end of this day. I unpacked and walked around the beautiful grounds. A lot of noise was coming from outside. Hundreds of Piki Piki’s were flying down the street with flags. They were followed by hundreds of people on foot surrounding a car, which had their MP in, Vincent Nyerer (who is Julius Nyerer son). He is in the opposition party, which is the movement for change, so many of the people in the North support this party.

I sat outside reading my book when Cannon Francis came to join me. He arranged for us to get some lovely fish and rice. Arthur came to pick me up shortly afterwards to take me to his home for a second dinner. Arthur lives with his wife, eldest son, youngest daughter and Grace, who is a girl that they have helped through her final part of her education. I was treated like a king. The food was wonderful and Arthur’s family was so welcoming, to this stranger who had just arrived in their town. Arthur dropped me off at 9:30, before going home to do another 2 hours work.

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