Tanzania - Back in Africa!

My first sight of the African night sky was from the small airport wheelchair as I was being lowered down the three tiers of steps from the Boeing 747 onto the tarmac of Nairobi airport. The four Kenyans who lifted the chair argued constantly about the best way to carry out the procedure and I ended up going headfirst, upside-down looking through my knees at the stars. The goods lift down to the arrivals hall was 'temporarily' out of operation (and probably still is) so I was wheeled back through customs, out onto the runway and out of the airport altogether via a small gate which was manned by a spear-wielding Masai warrior who never asked to see my passport.

This was my first return to the continent where I broke my neck two years previously and although I had spent some time working there prior to my injury I did not really know what to expect. I should have realised that nothing would have changed, chaos and confusion still reign no matter what you try to do and this is only enhanced by the complications of being in a wheelchair!

Lost luggage
This was no package holiday; we had booked flights to Nairobi and then organised a Land Rover journey from the Kenyan capital south into Tanzania to the base of Mount Kilimanjaro. Admittedly, we did have a first night in Nairobi in the plush but boring grandeur of the Nairobi Hilton, courtesy of British Airways air miles... we thought that this might take the sting out of any major disasters that happened as we arrived and in fact it did help to make up for the fact that one of our bags did not arrive until the next day, having been left in Amsterdam.

Pressure relief
At the Tanzanian border post, after the transfer of vehicles and the customary struggle to ignore the insistent attempts of old Masai women to sell beads and jewellery to us at inflated prices (any sign of interest from us in their products would have resulted in hours of haggling), we had our passports stamped and continued south through open acacia woodland plains into Tanzania. Despite being totally absorbed in this area and trying to spot the odd zebra or giraffe in the bushes, I was trying to remember the important things I had been taught in the spinal unit about protecting my skin. I explained to the driver why I was constantly leaning forward and moving around on the hard seat of the minibus (not designed as a pressure-relieving cushion). I am, however, quite sure he just thought that I was desperate for the toilet - when I eventually got to that stage, he really did not know what was going on and didn't ask too many more questions!

We reached Marangu after dark, almost 1500 metres up the slopes of Mount Kilimanjaro, which was to be our base for the next two weeks. There was the usual confusion from the local people as to why I was part of the luggage and not helping but this was quickly accepted and I was possibly even admired by the men for sitting around doing nothing while women did all the work as is typical African tradition!
The Marangu hotel was originally a farm and is set in huge gardens with small, whitewashed rondavels situated amongst plum, orange and guava trees for guest accommodation. My worries about the accessibility of our accommodation were immediately dispelled. It was perfect, not by design but by luck. There was plenty of room to manoeuvre and by removing the cushion cover I could even get into the shower in my normal wheelchair. It only needed fifteen minutes in the sunshine to dry and probably has never been cleaner!

Publicly indecent?
In the Western world, of course able-bodied people who have no experience of disability are curious and interested and sometimes a bit awkward when they see people in wheelchairs. They tend to watch from a distance or glance surreptitiously as they walk past. In Africa, this is not the case. There is no shame in standing ten metres away and just watching and wondering. Our first visit to the local market was an instance of this. As soon as the wheelchair and sliding board were produced, a crowd gathered and everybody forgot what they were there to do. For a short time I was the centre of attention and was grateful that the waistband my trousers stayed above the hip-level, which is all too often not the case during car transfers! Very soon, the intensity of their interest changed to a mixture of curiosity, sympathy and even in some cases - to my disappointment - disinterest. A good, involuntary muscle spasm soon reminded them that I was something worth watching.

Bull elephant!
Occasionally since my accident, my lack of physical ability has been frustrating and annoying - but never terrifying. Not being able to change the TV channel to avoid watching 'Neighbours' does not compare with sitting in the passenger seat of a small car in Tarangire game reserve within touching distance of a fully grown bull elephant wondering if he is going to carry on walking, turn the car upside-down or if he has even noticed that you're there. This moment - which felt like an hour - was probably the highlight of our trip and left the two of us temporarily speechless. We spent the night in the game reserve, in a tent, which actually had a completely accessible wet floor shower (again more by accident than design). Of course, it was much more sensible to spend valuable game viewing time in the car than in the shower!

Africa was just as I had remembered, absorbing, entertaining, exciting and welcoming. Much to my surprise the whole trip went without one major problem. Before we left home, I had imagined all the worst possible scenarios that could have happened and as it turned out, my biggest problem was that I did not want to go home.