Gorillas, Gypsies and a twist in the tale

We stayed in a really great Hotel in Kigali after the sorry events of the One Love Club. The Gorilla Hotel made for a very welcome and comfortable evening with real hot water, real food and real beds. As Paul reminded me in his own diplomatic way 'we have been living like gypsies since we came to Africa lets give ourselves a treat!'
Hotel Gorillas Kigali...nice!

We decided to treat ourselves before the rigors of N Tanzania. We hoped to reach the target town in Tanzania by making an early start at 7.30 and getting some miles in. We could find no evidence of hotels or guest houses at Kahoma so we got some rice and curry sauce from the supermarket and stocked up on water.
One hour into the ride we stopped for petrol, we were making great progress through beautiful hills and valleys of Rwanda. We went to leave the petrol station and guess who's bike would not start...only one guess required. One very sweaty hour later the spark plugs had been removed and re-set in the hope that it was just flooded. It started and we were off!

We needed to get a Jerry can because we thought fuel may be scarce on the next leg. As we neared the border we came through Jerry Cannesville. The side of the road was bright yellow with them. mmmm we thought, maybe the rest of the world needs them for their journey through N Tanzania as well!

Just in case you are not familiar with them here is a reference for you!



All the Jerry cans were full of veggie oil so we decided to try again later, Onto the bikes and GUESS WHO's BIKE WOULD NOT START!

We were surrounded on the roadside by dozens of Rwandans. The vehicles passing by honked their horns as the road filled with the small crowd. A mechanic arrived telling us to check our spark plugs...er...just done that! They pushed Martin for a bump start Paul towed Martin with a tow rope for higher speed bump start...no dice.

There on the roadside we had to make a decision. Mart's bike probably wouldn't start because the timing chain had slipped a couple of links and the timing was out. A legacy of the previous problem. There was no time to get the timing chain from Kampala to Kigali even if we could get it fitted and no guarantee this really was the problem, 'Dakar I' was out of the race.

During those stir crazy waiting days in Kampala Paul had said he would not give up the journey as long as his bike was going. Who could blame him.

In the midst of the crowd we made the decision. Martin heads back to Kigali and tries to repatriate the bike overland to Mombasa.

Paul travels on.

Neither one happy, both understanding the frustration of the other.

We waved down a likely looking truck and he wanted $200 to take Martin and Dakar I back 50 km's so we waited for another one!

Yussef arrived a while later minding his own business but he was driving a pick up!

He wanted $50...he had a deal,

We hastily checked luggage and that Paul had all he needed for the road ahead. The crowd magiced the bike onto the pick up and we tied it down. A man-hug in the middle of the road and Paul surrounded by now by his own crowd set off for Tanzania. 'Are you sure Helen will be OK with this' Martin asked. 'Of course' came the reply. And he was off. In the whole time we have been travelling I have never known Paul linger...

I was then told by one of the ring leaders in the crowd that I should give money to everyone who had helped get the bike onto the pick up...what all 20 of you! I dispensed a fistful of pens.

Yusseff and I got into the car and he drove about 2 miles then pulled off the road into a market area. I discovered this was where his shop was. He disappeared into the shop without saying anything to me, not that I would have understood! Eventually I found him talking to John his nephew who was to drive me to Kigali to the Tearfund compound. He told me the price had gone up, I told him Yussef was a man of his word and so was I and the price was the same and to get in the car and drive (that last bit was more in my mind!).

John drove me very very slowly to Kigali and the bike was duly taken off the pick up by a mustered team of men from the area around the compound. Rose and Emmanuel greeted me sympathetically and warmly and the horrible truth started to sink in. This was the end of the road and I had a week before we flew from Mombasa. Humphrey from Kenya the master fixer put me in touch with his sister company to sort out transit and that all looks like it will be OK.

MEANWHILE...Paul motored on through the Tanzanian border to within 100 miles of our southern most point Singida. Good going indeed, almost made me think I could try to fix Dakar I and catch up.

BUT...Paul's top box had fallen off his bike at some stage and in it were his shoes, his tools, and worst of all his Carnet De Douane. This is THE document to get through borders and to satisfy customs on the bike's retuen in order to get back the huge deposit we had to leave with the Carnet Issuer. Paul's Carnet is somewhere amongst the strewn contents of his top box up to 100 mile behind. This is a big problemo so he is re tracing his tracks tomorrow and I am seeing how I can help from this send.

The saga continues, now on two fronts....