1/21 BORN Free!

Been on the move a lot, haven’t had much journal time. Where were we? Oh yeah, back in Arusha.

My clothes stunk. Decided to splurge and have my filthies laundered before safari. I put the stuff together on the bed and heard a knock on the door. The laundry woman swept in and picked up my clothes and was off in a shot. Right after she left, I realized she also took my pants, which had 30,000 Tshillings in the pocket. I asked the front desk if they had found “anything” in my pants. I was intentionally vague, as I didn’t want anyone fired because of a simple error. So, instead of pressing it, I cut my losses (about 30 bucks) and took satisfaction in the fact that on that day, ‘Washerwoman Wins Lotto!’

The following morning, Maggie and I met Jordan, Iris and their son and went to Catholic mass in Arusha. The mass was in English and contained 3,421 hymns, of which exactly one was singable—because it was to the tune of ‘Eidelweiss’. Not quite sure why church hymns seem so atonal and syncopated to me. I’m a good singer, but get me in a church, and I turn into Eeyore the Tone Deaf Mule. And why would God want to hear the word praise sung as “pray- yayyy- yayyyy-aaaiii- ssss” covering 4 1⁄2 octaves?

After church, we stopped by Scandinavian Bus Lines (not a Swede in sight) to pick up my bus ticket to Kampala- a 17-hour journey via Nairobi, aka Nai-robbery to many travelers. So post-safari, I’ll be at the Catholic Diocese overnight and off to Kampala at 2PM.

Four of the six people on our safari are headed to Zanzibar after--it’s the usual Tanzanian tourist circuit. They were feeling sort of apprehensive, as a traveler’s advisory had been put in effect for Zanzibar by the US & UK State Departments.

I have to say, I hate the fact that radical Islam has made many suspicious of any Islam. Islam, like Christianity, Buddhism, Judaism, is about love and the Golden Rule.

Being blasted out of bed at 5AM for a call to prayer in India—‘Allah Akbar…Allah akbar…’-I used to find it really magical. Now, and I’m angry with myself for thinking it, I think of Mohammed Atta and crew’s last words as they took down planes on 9/11.

(Interjection- it was unsettling to see a car go buy in Arusha with an Osama Bin Laden sticker on the back.)

I’m angry with the media, the hysteria, the radicals for making me suspicious of a noble religion. I ask myself why I don’t feel the same suspicions toward radical Christians, some who kill doctors, blow up clinics and celebrate AIDS deaths and beatings.

But radical Islam and Christianity are bedfellows—they share fear and hatred as core values. I feel pity for them, when they meet their god and realize they just got it all wrong. All are one. As the Beatles knew, “Love Is All You Need.”