Rum

Where we had decided to bed down in Iringa was a rum choice. One of those guesthouses where the sound acoustics are so bad that you can only rest and sleep after the last person has gone to bed and before the first one has risen. The kind of place where there is guaranteed hollering and screeching from 5am.

The mega bonus of an unexpected night in Iringa is that it’s where my friend Claire lives, for her work on vulture conservation. She was up early sweeping up dead termites so we met for breakfast, and she always provides an understanding ear to whatever is thrown at her.

By mid-afternoon we made it to Songea where accommodation was hard to come by because of a large national gathering relating to HIV. My colleague Deo expertly secured me a room at one of the popular guesthouses.