Road Trip Day 6
Dodoma to the Outpost
398 Klms, hours on the road – 9
The moon hung high and defiant for a long time after sun-up. I imagined she had borrowed the confidence from the spectacular show she’d delivered two nights previously: a lunar eclipse when a bruised and red shadow dragged across her surface and the stars hung extra bright all around, winking encouragement.
The sun came up in a sky stained turmeric and the rocks blushed at being caught so bare and the baobabs waggled their roots in silent greeting of a beautiful dawn. It wasn’t until almost nine that the last traces of the moon’s gauzy orb disappeared entirely, melting with the heat, vanishing into the blue.
The tobacco trucks are on the move. This year more than 5000 of them will haul the produce of 93 000 peasant farmers down this narrow alley to HQ. 103 million kilos. That’s a lot of smokes observes Husband. I’m not a smoker but I’m still glad about that.
We sneak a last mug of tea and I sip and drink in the view of Lake Chaya, its waters receding quickly so that lilies jostle greedily for space and the swamp grasses are recklessly green, a final fling before they wither and die. There are elephant prints here. And a shy bat-eared fox sunning himself atop his burrow; he is too quick for my lens though.
The last few hours are quiet. And we then we are home. To a car that needs unloading of the detritus of more than a week on the road – my sunshine bright everlasting flowers picked from our lonely church hillside are still sunshine bright – and two dogs delirious with delight at our return.
The thing about road trips – I reflect later – is the perspective they lend, in myriad ways: time to consider how lucky you are to see all this; time to enjoy evovling views, every corner offers a new one; time to think; time to enjoy being away and then the chance to feel pleased at getting home.