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Thursday 16th August - Tanzania - Musoma (Day 2)
Tembo Camp has a little beach on the lake and it would be a nice place to hang out especially if the weather was dry. Unfortunately we woke today to pouring rain. Joerg and Corinna decided just to drive on into the Serengeti, but we chose to stay put for another night. The last couple of days have been long driving days and so we thought it would be better to have a rest day today.

The girls spent a bit of time this morning doing their scrapbooks. These books were given to us by friends at church back home. The girls have enjoyed doing them very much, drawing pictures and sticking in bits and pieces from each of the countries weve visited. Theyre good mementoes of what weve seen and experienced.

We took a taxi into town this morning to visit the supermarket and bank. The taxi driver was obviously finding it difficult to make sense of our family arrangements. At one point I was waiting in the car with the girls while Andrew and Alasdair were in the bank. The driver took this opportunity to work out who was who.
Driver ( pointing to the girls): Are these your babies?
Me: Yes
Driver: Both?
Me: Yes thats Keziah and this is Naomi.
Driver (pointing out the car to Alasdair and Andrew): The light haired one is Naomis papa? The dark haired one is the others papa?
Me: No! No
What a strange family holiday that would be! As far as I know Ive never been suspected of polyandry before.

This evening I made a start at cooking as usual. I soon spotted that the gas had stopped and I couldnt restart it. Despite Andrews assumption of incompetence on my part, he wasnt able to restart it either. Turns out that weve run out of gas. There is nowhere close by to refill the gas bottle and buying a new bottle would create lots of other problems relating to adaptors etc.etc. This could prove a real problem over the next couple of days as we go through the Serengeti and Ngorongoro.

For this evening we got past the problem by me taking the food into the restaurant kitchen at Tembo Camp. All the restaurant cooking is done over charcoal like a big barbecue made out of an oil-drum thats been cut lengthways. I asked if I could get a bit of space and happily they let me in. On the floor beside the barbecue there was a bundle of chickens, tied together by the legs. I assumed they were all dead until a man came in with a big bowl and slit their necks over it, while the remaining birds squawked in terror. Someone in the restaurant must have ordered chicken. At least the meat was fresh.

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