For Stuff That Doesn't Fit Into 140 Characters Or Less
Today I climbed Lion Rock, not to be confused with Pride Rock, although I’m sure it frequently is, especially because it’s also known as Simba Hill. In Swahili, it’s Mlimwa, as I discovered when I tried to take a three-wheel tuktuk from the centre of Dodoma to Lion Rock and the driver had no idea what I was talking about, until I showed him a Google Image, and he said: “Mlimwa!” I don’t think he had taken anyone there before, because at the foot of the rock he stopped to talk to a wiry, distinguished-looking man who laughed a lot, especially when I said I wanted to hike to the top. “Good people come here,” he said, pointing at me, “and bad people come here too,” pointing in the general direction of everyone else. Then he offered to accompany me to the top for 10,000 Shillings. About R70. All right, 5,000, he said when I looked unsure. “You, me, and the driver,” he said. “Come. We safari.” That lovely Swahili word. It means: to journey with a purpose.