Since I had no Internet for most of my time in Africa I have decided to write a retrospective diary from notes and memories jogged by my photographs.
Arriving in Mwanza alone by plane was eventful. As I landed the heavens opened up to a great African rain. It happened there about once a day at different times of day and caused everything to be put on hold for about 1/2 an hour and just as they come they are over in no time. I waited about 1 hour for warren's plane (Warren is a pharmacist from Nova Scotia on his 8th or 9th mission.) Then we were met by the Bishop. He deserves his own blog entry. Mwanza airfield is amongst paddy fields that are populated by egrets and those ugly looking Maribou storks. The road into town has deep gutters on either side so that the torrential rain flows off. The road is full of commerce. Bikes, carts and anything that moves being taken along for trade. Lots being carried on the head. No wonder the commonest complaint is Neck and back pain.
Mwanza is called the city of rocks because of the amazing granite formations. The metamorphic rock has been stripped of any sedimentary rock around and has left huge sculptures rather like Henry Moore's. They dominate the scenery around the harbour and all the slopes around the town. Large number of water birds and birds of prey circulate in the hot air coming from the sun on these rocks. The power of the updraughts is incredible. winds can pick up very quickly and oh that Dust. Not the same red dust as Kilema but eye irritating and with a taste that is hard to forget. It is still on many of the things I brought back.
