Friday night in Shangani

I wanted to write about the way in which this place feels different to London, but there are so many things, so many ways. Eventually I thought I may as well just describe one thing in a bit of detail. So, this is a typical Friday night:
This Friday just gone, unfortunately, Suze wasn’t at all well, so having spent all day cooking and nursing, I made sure she was OK for an hour or two and went to our local to unwind in the evening. Our local. The connection here is not fast enough for me to upload pictures at the moment so I will have to describe it. It looks like a car park. To be fair, by British standards it would be a fairly poorly maintained car park, in need of the shrubs trimming and the surface could be a lot flatter. And it probably only has room for 3 cars. Still, very few of the locals have cars, and those who do aren’t too precious about them so it’s fine. This was a busy night, with 2 cars there and 2 other tables occupied.
On one side of this car park is a container – a big metal box that would carry freight on a boat or truck. It has been whitewashed, and then someone has set about it with an angle grinder, hence creating a door, and a serving hatch. Inside are a few shelves baring whisky bottles and a local spirit called konyagi, and two large fridge/freezers, both full of beer. The main local beers are:
East Africa’s ubiquitous Tusker. Not very much flavour but hey, anything’s better than Budweiser. And as an old team mate Ed pointed out, actually doesn’t taste too bad warm if the fridge breaks or the power goes down.
Serengeti. Pretty bottle but not to my taste. Too much maize in with the malt.
Kilimanjaro. Now we’re talking. A decent lager of about 4.5% which, unusually for Africa, actually has noticeable hops. Refreshing, and two Kilimanjaro (or “Kili mbili” to a local) is a good default choice for you and a friend.
Ndovu. If you’re lucky they will have a bottle or two of Ndovu tucked away. It means elephant and this one is genuinely good. The label says something about using Czech hops and you can taste them. My favourite by far but you can’t always get it out here in the provinces.
On one shelf they also have some Stella Artois, but it may be just for display as I have never seen anybody drink one. The bar is staffed, on and off, by either of two large local ladies. They don’t speak any English, and they laugh at our primitive Swahili, but they are always smiling and seem friendlier than most of the bar staff around Leicester Square area. When they aren’t looking there’s a rat who comes out and sits on the crates of pepsi, and then scurries away again before they return. And if you’re thinking that sounds a tiny bit like Tom and Jerry, it is.
Beers cost TSH1300, which these days is just over 50p. That’s enough money for a taxi half way to town, 5 or 6 mangoes or about 500g of tomatoes, so not to be sniffed at, but you get a choice of 3-4 local beers and on a warm humid night they’re worth every shilling. It is fantastic. Sitting under a tree in the dusk, sipping ice cold Tusker from a chipped glass, reading a novel or just smiling at the locals and watching the occasional bicycle go past. There’s a sea breeze most evenings which also helps to cool you down at the end of a hot dusty day. There is no music and no bullshit and nobody cares in the slightest what you look like, but there are millipedes in the trees.
From now on, I want all my bars to have millipedes.