Death Toll:
One Goat
Five Ducks (three by the hand of Dan...but one got away!)
One Cow
Two Vultures
Myriads of Mosquitoes
An Unidentified Bird (cut down midair by piki piki)

And so Dan leaves the Rukwa Valley...

Today Abel the Victorious (can anyone tell I've been hanging out with a certain Lord of Destruction, Colton "Coltonius" Rabenold?) and I mounted our trusty Honda XL125S and piki piki'd our way up several thousand feet of "escrapment" and out of the Rukwa Valley. It was a harrowing journey over massively rutted "roads" complete with mudholes, large rocks, washboarding, and suicidal cows. To say we drove, or perhaps rode, out would be overly generous to the Tanzanian road system. I think bounced and slid and whined would do better credit to the road and the pretentious little mutt of a dirtbike that brought us all those dusty miles. One of the hairiest, and most exhilirating rides of my life. That I have no (new) wounds is a testament to the white-knuckled panache of good man Abel, who put in a good six hours of intense riding to haul my butt out of the valley.

So here I sit in an Internet Cafe, serenaded by trashy American rap as usual, thinking "How can a valley become a home so quickly?" It's sad to pack up and leave another familiar place, especially the Rukwa. It's a rough and ready and rollicking place, like that grizzled uncle you never thought you'd warm to until you finally lived with him for a while. Sure it's burning hot in the day, but a quick plunge into the swimming pool and an exhilirating starlit open-air shower, powered by all the pressure of a clear mountain waterfall, and it's totally worth it. The roads are bad, and for it all the more enjoyable on dirt bikes.

I think what really got me was the people. First, the Rabenolds, with intensity and joy for any guests that dare apply. Then Abel and Samara and Bryan and the other guests, joining in enthusiastically. Then the locals, as ready to laugh with you as at you, to offer their hospitality and then pull you aside and ask for your shoes. They really made Rukwa happen for me, challenging me to stop maintaining the distance of a student, passing through, looking for information and good experiences. To open up and try to connect even a little with people I will never see after this week. To learn people's names anyway. I gave the people of Rukwa a chance to be people...and they gave me a chance to feel at home.

So, Rukwa: I'll miss you and your friendly, forward people. We watched the Jesus movie, together this time, and it was new for both of us. My one prayer is that someone will come and tell that story for the first time to the Wasukuma, for whom it is still a story of the Wafipa and the Europeans. That someone will come to sit under a tree and wave a stick and tell it so it hits your heart and becomes your story, just like it is becoming mine.

In the meantime...the main events, for the people at home:
-helped clear and airstrip; watched an AIM Air puddle jumped come into our wilderness valley
-went babboon hunting. couldn't find any babboons. headed off to the lakes. killed ducks with shotguns.
-killed and ate a cow. and a goat. ate the ducks too. except for the one that flew away...after being shot and having his neck wrung by one very inexperienced young man and two very seasoned hunters. chased unsuccessfully by one angry young man.
-showed the Jesus film in Kiswahili, while conversing with lauging wasukuma and drunk village people.
-was told by said village people that I do not know how to play the drums. or dance. or speak kiswahili. but had fun at the outreach anyway.