That's Africa, Baby

I am pretty surprised, and HUGELY complimented, at the number of people who do not know me but read this anyway. Special shout out to MP's pal!

Earlier this summer I went to Africa. Tanzania and Rwanda to be precise with a little Kenya tossed in for good measure. Given that it was one of the most profound experiences of my life, I wanted to write about it.

This is my first hour in Africa. I am totally not exaggerating. But no worries, from there it absolutely got better. Sometimes the moment even bordered on divine.

I have not even left the airport and the following happens: I get shaken down for a bribe to, get this, bring in soccer shoes for orphans. Talk about some bad juju! The hideous GOVERNMENT OFFICIAL demands that I bribe him so that I may bring in shoes for kiddoes that have no parents. Sadly, I even had to bargain on the price and since I got "such a good price, no receipt." Seriously.

While I was rummaging for money, the ass steals my laptop...seriously. With a lot of baby pictures on it. And, because I am me, no back up. Aarrgh!

So onto the minibus we go. We are screaming down a pothole filled road (and, as a little aside, Tanzanian potholes, if they get filled in at all, get filled in with sharp rocks and dirt. Yes, this works as well as you might imagine). Not surprisingly, we blow a tire. And I mean BLOW. This was no slow leak where you end up hearing that thump, thump. This was an earth-shattering kaboom!

The driver does not bother to stop stating that he fixed a flat on the way to pick us up and he does not have another spare. Now I realize that I am not a mechanic but, in my limited experience, I concluded that tires were not disposable and that carrying a half dozen would be unnecessary. Blowing a tire an hour did not seem unreasonable to him.

And having five tires rather than six does not dampen our need for speed. We are still flying. Flying, that is, until we hit a snafu. Not traffic per se. We got caught in a riot. And this is not like animal rights activists shouting outside of Bloomies about the evils of fur. This is a no-shit, full-blown, looks like it was shot in Hollywood African riot. Clubs, machetes and all.

Granted, I am a riot virgin but I am thinking that this can not be good. There are thousands of armed people swarming and shouting. Stupidly I ask - "why are they upset?" Have I mentioned that I am a riot virgin? I assumed it had been organized, a text had been sent out, a meeting point had been arranged in advance and a press release had been sent to the major news outlets. That is how the Junior League would run a riot at least (and then thank you notes would have been sent out in a timely manner, thank you very much).

Our driver does not know why the riot is happening so, wait for it, HE STOPS THE BUS AND ASKS! I hope that I have established that I am not an expert on the proper protocol of riots but even I know this is a bad idea. Note to self: Do not ask an angry, got-nothing-to-lose 14 year old why he is pissed. Furthermore, do not ask the aforementioned angry, got-nothing-to-lose 14 year old ANYTHING when he is running to a riot and armed with both a machete and a malatov cocktail. I am not making this up, I have been in Africa for less than an hour and I am five feet away with a hormonal, pissed rioter wielding a machete and toting a plastic bottle full of kerosene. This can not be good, grasshopper.

Amazingly enough, he answers us and we all move on our merry little ways.

Less than five minutes later we are tear-gassed by the government. Oh seriously, things have got to get better or this will be the longest and hardest two weeks of my life.