Our guide, Mr Leonard Magige, as he introduced himself, pointing out the features of Dodoma from the first station of Mlimwa. First station, I asked, trying not to sound too breathless. How many stations are there? Three, he answered, and then he laughed. The tuktuk driver consulted his cell phone, which was playing a fetching American R&B number that I would have Shazammed if I’d had the strength. Earlier in the day, in a guidebook, I saw Mlimwa disparagingly referred to as a “molehill”. From afar, maybe, yes. When you’re climbing it, believe me, it’s a mountain. “Pole pole,” said Mr Magige, charging ahead up the mountain, laughing. Slowly, slowly. How much further, I asked, and he turned around and spoke a Swahili phrase that once would have needed translation. “Hakuna matata.”

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