Sunset sunset burning bright

Last night's sunset was a show stopper. It burned bright and fast, then bled into a more typical pastel palate.

I missed the chance to photograph the first phase - peach and pink - but I was able to snap these shots, which were taken within a surprisingly short period of time (perhaps 10-15 minutes).

Lovely lizards

A friend came to get me today, to show me a monitor lizard hovering around the canteen where we eat lunch. The lizard was separated from us by a set of bars, which may be responsible for his sense of security; he let us get the best close-up look of a monitor I have had to date.

I do not have my camera with me today, but it made me think that I should share a couple photos taken earlier this year, of a few monitor lizards I saw in Katavi National Park.

This lizard climbed out of the water and onto a log as we were driving by. He posed perfectly for this profile shot and scaly close-ups.

This monitor was peeking out of a tree as we drove by. Can you spot it?

I affectionately call this photo "Dinosaurs in love." In truth, these late-Jurassic gems seemed more akin to the early animation of Godzilla than the agile creatures of Spielberg's Jurassic films. It was humorous watching them dance, with herky-jerky claymation movements: lean-on-left-foot, lean-on-right-foot, open-jaws, breathe-fire (well, almost).

With nothing on the immediate horizon to give away the scale, this scene seemed - at least through my camera lens - like watching giant dinosaurs dance in the distance.

Everything works out in the end

This is an old entry, which I had meant to post at the end of August. It is equally relevant today.

I remember well what it was like back home to send an important document from one end of the country to the next. You put the document in a yellow envelope and seal it, and a guy in a yellow shirt comes to pick it up, put it in his yellow van and give it to another yellow-dressed person, who will ensure it gets to your destination by the specified time.

If at any point along the way you wonder where said document is, you can log onto a yellow website and see that your package was scanned into Collierville, TN at 10:43am, and that it weighs 1.0 lbs.

It all seems so easy!

So in August, I had a plane ticket which I needed for an upcoming flight (the original one shipped to me from the US never arrived, so another was issued and shipped to Dar es Salaam - approx. 800 miles from where I live).

A colleague of mine agreed to help send that ticket to me. The method: go to the airport, meet a stranger who was taking that day's flight to Kigoma, and ask that person to carry it for me.

They assured me that it was more reliable than a courier. And after all, couriers in the US are strangers, too.

I received a phone call on the appointed day. "She goes by the name of 'Mama,'" I was told, a moniker assigned to nearly every woman my age or older. "She has your number."

I sent a friend to the airport with a sign (I was all day in a workshop), hoping to get the ticket before Mama disappeared into the countryside. Somehow my friend did not cross paths with Mama, and I envisioned my plane ticket bumping its way down the road to Kasulu.

Then a mysterious tip: a woman in a white Land Rover (a common vehicle here) was in front of the bank, asking about my boss - whose name was on the envelope.

I ran. And once I arrived, I approached every white Land Rover I could find: "Excuse me, is there a Mama here?"

And finally I saw her. Exiting the market. Somehow I just knew. Maybe it's because she was wearing yellow.

"Mama?" I asked.

"Yes," she replied.

And soon we were hugging and I was holding the envelope in my sweaty hands.

My friends and I have a saying: in Tanzania, everything works out in the end. There may not be a website to track status, or a yellow van to chase, but the systems here generally work - and are often cheaper by comparison.

Just when you think there's no hope, you get a phone call, and a stranger helps make the impossible happen. It seems like a pretty good system to me.

Just in time

I was in Oregon last month for a wonderful combination of work and play. When I left my family's home in the early morning hours, one of the last things I noticed was Orion hovering above and tipped on his side, as though frozen mid-stride - running somewhere, perhaps late for a plane as I was.

And when I returned last week, I looked to the sky to see if he was still running, but he was nowhere to be found. Instead Hercules was there, reclining on his back, sinking into the west - his season expiring - seemingly exhausted from several days of travel, sleeping upright and airline meals. I soon sank into a similar pose, this time in the east. It felt good to be back.

Now, one week later, a blanket of clouds has been pulled over the constellations holding court above - the gods and demigods hidden from view, but still there, somewhere.

The rainy season has begun. And with it, the sky is disappearing, bugs are reappearing, orange blossoms are in bloom and fragrances abound.

This is a magical time of year in Kigoma, complete with fanfare (cicadas by day and fruit bats by night). Nature seems to be rejoicing the return of the rains; I am excited for their return, too.