16 Aug Tanzania: the Ol Doinyo Lengai

After shepherding 17 women (and two uncles to compensate) for a few days in Kenya and Tanzania, his departure left such a huge void that I had to apply shock measures to repair the broken soul.

In these cases, the first thing that comes to mind is to fill the void with a gin and tonic, and to toast to the peace that has been regained, but as this solution only has temporary effects, I prefer (apart from the ball, of course) to do something special to alleviate my pain.

And that's how I decided to get off the truck in Mto Wa Mbo, ready to go down that road that would lead me to that special place that had been running for years in my head (I admit that sometimes the strangest things make me run...).

The little birds that nested in my head when I was a child insisted on the need to climb another active volcano, Ol Doinyo Lengai, the sacred mountain of the Maasai. And I, like President Maduro, listen to the little birds that come to tell me things...

According to the Maasai, their god Engai, the husband of the moon, lives at the top, and I wanted to take advantage of the fact that I was passing by to ask him how he manages to keep the flame alive in such a long-distance relationship, because I've always been terrible at it.

At the foot of the volcano lies Lake Natron, another place of serene beauty that stirs your soul and brings out your feelings and, as you can see in these lines, also makes you a little tender and cuddly.

Lake Natron together with Lake Nakuru in Kenya have one of the most important colonies of flamingos in Africa. Also, the alkaline waters of the Natron have the highest ph in the world, 10.5, but I don't know what it is for, but I'll leave that fact there. I have read something about the ph in the shampoo bottles when I forget to take my mobile phone to the bathroom, but I will continue documenting on the subject...

This photo is so beautiful that I have left it with more resolution in case there is someone (human) who wants to make a poster, cover a folder, what do I know?

Let's go back to the volcano, I'm getting lost. One of the cheapest (and unfortunately not usually the most comfortable) ways to get there is to take the bus from Mto Wa Mbo and for 10,000 Tanzanian pichicles it drops you off in the village of Ngare Sero, on the shores of the lake.

This journey will also bring your feelings to the surface, because at the end of it you will feel your whole body ache, even deep inside. Even so, the heat, the dust, the smell, the boats, the state of the road and the "high occupancy density" of every corner of the bus did not stop me from enjoying the landscape that was appearing on the other side of the dusty window.

And so, enjoying the baobabs, acacias, Maasai villages, extinct craters, zebras, hyenas and jackals along the way... the almost 5 hours it took to cover the 60km to Ngare Sero flew by (just saying).

By the way, the boys in the photo above are Maasai who have just finished the circumcision ceremony by which they pass from childhood to the warrior or moran stage. This ceremony takes place every 4 or 5 years so it is lucky to be able to see them. After the ceremony, they spend four days locked up in a hut and when they come out, their faces are painted white and sometimes they are given ostrich feathers. In Spain to pass from childhood to the warrior stage you had to pass the selectividad, and if you didn't pass you were locked up at home for more than four days, tell me which system seems more cruel to you... (Anyway, these are just reflections out loud).

And speaking of childhood, I'm taking a break here to remember a mathematical problem from that time.

Statement: Three buses leave at the same time from three different locations and travel along lonely roads.

Question: How likely are they to crash into each other at the worst place of the three routes?

Answer: It seems to be all probabilities. You can't see the third bus but there was one, I just got caught ducking out and had to pretend to be helping to pull it out of the wadi, so I couldn't document it.

Returning to the volcano, due to the extreme heat of the area, the climb up the volcano is done all night and descended at dawn. My big concern was that at sunset the mountain was hidden behind a thick layer of clouds and there was a good chance of spending the night in white so that I could see nothing. Faced with these conditions I spent the hours hesitating about whether or not to go up there. In the end, as always, I reflected deeply, I thought it was the best thing to do and I did the opposite, which is very typical of me and which has got me into a lot of trouble but has given me so much satisfaction.

Besides, I had to go up, I knew that up there was the place where dreams that others wouldn't understand come true.

And to make a long story short, which I have already seen that I'm too much of a messThat night at 12 o'clock sharp, with that punctuality that characterises me and after gulping down two glasses of wine, I set off from Moivaro's tented camp (who, as a Kananga guide, made me a great offer) in the direction of the volcano. It took me almost six hours to climb the 2,900m of elevation gain, as my nautical shoes, still wet from the waterfall I had gone to see that afternoon, made it difficult for me to climb.

Unfortunately, when I went to take the first picture at dawn, in the thick fog, the camera's hp ran out of battery. After uttering a sonorous gasp, I resigned myself to enjoy the view. No matter the photos, this was a trip to the interior, one more chapter of that permanent search of my self that forces me to wander wandering to find myself... (so this time the photo I put here is not mine, but you can imagine what I saw in the fog).

I didn't take any photos upstairs, but the little I saw will remain forever in my memory, until that German guy who has been hiding things from me lately comes along and formats my memory for good. In the meantime, I was very happy there and I still am when I remember those moments. That's why I'm telling you about it.