From 25,000 feet the view of the Tanzanian coastline with its coral
reefs, long sandy bays and azure blue sea looks like a classic
glossy travel brochure. And the 15-minute drive from Mtwara airport
reveals tantalising glimpses of the Indian Ocean between the exotic
display of palm and baobab trees. But as we enter Mikindani village
I'm looking more carefully at the scenery – for me this
isn't an exotic holiday destination; this is to be my home.

I've already been advised that the first two weeks will be in
'Homestay' i.e. living with a local family, so I'm
interested to see what the local homes look like. I know that I
won't be staying in one of the daub and wattle huts, but in one
of the old stone houses. Sounds good. But the first stone houses
that we pass, although inhabited, appear to be in total ruin..?

Becky introduces me to my host, Mr Sijaona. He is a
small wiry man with a purposeful stride. He welcomes me into his
house. I gaze around at the crumbling walls and the total lack of
comfort. But then he says in halting English that his other house
is better, (two wives, therefore two houses) – so I pick up my
suitcase and follow him down the dusty street.

His other house is in a rather worse state of disrepair. The
ceiling of the front room is in a pile behind the door. I can't
see much detail, as the inside of the house is inky black after the
bright sunshine outside. He pulls aside an old piece of cloth to
show me to my quarters. I have arrived.

I can't deny that during that first evening I wonder what on
earth I'm doing. Waves of panic alternate with interest, and
frustration. I want to ask a hundred questions; which is your wife
and who are all the other girls, children and women; what are we
going to eat for dinner and how is it prepared, how does the family
get water, how many people live in this house,…. but I
can't seem to make myself understood, or at least the answers
in halting English don't match my questions. I'm clutching
my 'Teach Yourself Swahili' but at this stage it might as
well be 'Astrophysics for Beginners'.

By Day Four I'm beginning to make a bit more sense of my
surroundings. I've wandered around the Boma and its grounds,
visited a couple of schools, explored the village, the waterfront
and the yacht club, but more importantly had time to watch and chat
to local people. 'Chatting' takes the form of sign
language, my pathetic attempts at Swahili greetings, and local
people's various standards of English. Mr Sijaona and his
family are being wonderfully patient and helpful. I went with him
yesterday to water his garden and help him plant sweet potatoes.
Yesterday morning wife number 2 (you see, I am beginning to
find things out) sat with me for over an hour teaching me how to
plait grasses into a tape which forms the basis of a mat. And this
morning Mr Sijaona showed me how to weave a basket from palm
leaves.

They are delighted to teach me these things and are willing me to
absorb the Swahili they keep throwing my way. If only I could
absorb it all quickly. But it's “Pole pole catchy
monkey”. I'll get there!