Arriving in Bukoba

On August 5 we flew from Arusha to Mwanza. Our flight to Bukoba was supposed to leave Mwanza at 1:45pm, and while our trip thus far had been fabulously smooth, our luck was not to hold. At 2pm, although our bags had been loaded, men were on top of the plane, screw drivers in hand tinkering away. I must admit that it did not exactly inspire confidence. By 3pm it had been announced that the plane could not fly that day - they had run into a bird on the last trip and dented one of the wings. Fortunately we were lucky and did not have to spend the night in Mwanza (Mom's stories of cockroaches leapt immediately to mind), and by 5pm we were finally on our way to Bukoba, 7hrs after we arrived in Mwanza. The flight to Bukoba was 45 minutes.

Seated in the front row of a 12 passenger plane was an experience. I have never been in such a small plane. The small window frames rattled and vibrated as the front propeller roared to life, and the whole tiny structure bobbed like its 3 wheels were on shock absorbers as it gained speed, moving down the runway towards the shore of a blue and vast Lake Victoria. I did have a moment's thought as to whether we were going to take off in time or really end up in the lake - I guess I have never been able to see the view of the pilot from the cockpit before - I could almost have been sitting next to him there was so little leg room. The boats on the water shrank in size as we climbed higher and higher, to a cruising altitude of 10,000 feet if I read the altitude off the dashboard correctly! The coast of the lake became a vast panoramic with islands and inlets and all the coves of the journey in view. Seen from the map, Lake Victoria appears to be a rather circular uninteresting spot of blue in a very large continent. But this view, from the small window of a 12 passenger plane, exposed all of its mystery without divulging its secrets.

As we approached Bukoba we left the lake and headed inland making a circle around the entire town. Banana trees, tons of them came into view, their large green oblong leaves contrasting sharply with the red dirt. We touched down at the Bukoba airport, a single landing strip and a small building that could be described as equivalent to a small New England train station. The runway is dirt, red dirt, and there are no lights on the landing strip.

I live at the school, on top of the ridge, overlooking the lake and the town. Driving up in the Land Rover I had forgotten how large the hill really is, and there was one point where I wondered whether we might end up going backwards as the gears shifted. The road was narrow, twisting and turning, and although the rock walls from England were missing, the inability to see if oncoming traffic was coming made me want to reach for the horn at every turn.

When we reached KEMPS, I met a crowd of smiling faces, a bit shy but eager, crowded around my door. They had even put a sign of welcome on my door. It said "Welcome Dear Aaron and Stephanie at KEMPS August 2010".